Extracts from Issue XIII
When Blue Rains Fall
Stretching clawed toes, I wake from a dream -
about my Mother and a race redeemed.
Tears still damp glisten
as I pause to listen
to a deep, maternal heartbeat;Within the bosom of my retreat.
So long now, waiting in solitude -
only my memories to intrude.
A chance to fight
for a Mother's plight
before her final tragedy;
at the hands of humans who don't see.Once, they loved her and all her Beings-
they knew not to fear my outstretched wings.
The tie was torn
and legend was born
painting me as monstrosity;I've no place in their technology.
My sisters, Gryphon, and sweet Pegasus -
beloved winged guardians so caged in myths.
The time will come
Lies shall be undone
They will feel my burning desire -
as raging rains fall down in blue fire.Then we shall see who's outdone by greed -
those who were sure treasure was my need.
Will lose all worth
in the Truth's rebirth
Mother will again have glory -
and the lovers will write new stories.Until I hear her call, I'm cradled -
deep inside cavernous heart as fabled.
In time I'll rise
my heat searing skies
From the ashes, she'll be born anew -
Mother Earth, my lost green and blue jewel.Susan Gerson
I
The world will maim you,
will burn you
will curse and cure you
will lick your wounds with salted tongue
will suffocate you with her days
and terrorise the night you rest.The age of Kali Yuga spawns
killers stalking daylight playgrounds,
gliding boulevards and avenues
like sharks.Her world will knife you
will garrotte you
will hack and hate and love you
one dark hand reaching for your sex
and the other holds the knife.Horror in the headline
as blossoms in the rain
explode across the slab
you gasped.
Sanctioned killers move.
The chorus of Kali
sings through bullet wounds
and the severed throats
of innocents.
She stretches her caress,
seduction of sex and death
her eight pointed star
glistens blood.II
She is a process set by the age she stains,
she is a whirlpool, sucking up the tribes,
infecting the blood with teeth and fangs
rabid, raging, psychotic.In our headlong plunge into the swirling night
civilisation will become a dream recounted
by awestruck children during the cannibals feast.Dave Migman
The lands of space and plenty
The beauty and music that went with them
The language, waiting to re-merge in its new forms
A fusion of sounds and colours and movements.In a game of show and tell, buy and sell.
Displaced, playing with lives not theirs.
Then there was no-one, free
The wind howling through the trees and empty ruins,
A song of the dead and departed,
Being elsewhere, gone, and left their past behind.Through pestilence and famine and war.
Power, envy, greed and devastation
The consequences to the perpetrators yet untold,
To unfold, in the darkness of their art.Those gone but not forgotten
In the music it still plays.Sam Mondrian
