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compared with the one they’d been living in

compared with the one they’d been living in
/ Jim Wittenberg

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a vision

by anonymous

i have a vision of a new world there will be no more war, oppression, poverty, injustice, alienation, aggression, inequality, or waste there will be no races or sexes, so no racism or sexism every human will be the same age and the same height - 1.645 meters and weigh exactly the same - 50 kilograms every human will have their own space - 4.5 meters by 4.5 meters by 3 meters and get the same amount of protein every day - 36 grams and the same amount of oxygen every day - 555 liters and the same amount of water every day - 2 liters and the same amount of sleep every day - 7.6 hours out of 24 on a mattress 2 meters long and half a meter high and listen to 4 hours of music every day, at 75 decibels and watch 2 hours of educational videos every day and meditate 4 or 5 hours a day and run 2 hours a day and practice yoga 1 or 2 hours a day every human will have 2.4 hours a day to do as they please, without intruding on anyone else’s space there will be no false information religion, philosophy, and language will be abolished truth will reign supreme, and set everybody free the energy to maintain the levels of oxygen, water, and protein will be drawn from the sun and when the sun is exhausted, the next star in the galaxy will be tapped, and then the next star after that and when the galaxy is exhausted, the next galaxy and so on… it might not go on forever but forever is a long time

my treat

by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

i was walking down the street i stopped and sat down on a park bench behind me i heard somebody say all i want is to be treated like a human being what does that mean, i wondered to be treated like a human being how about you? are you treated like a human being? do you treat other people like human beings? what about cats and dogs and reptiles and bugs? do you treat them like human beings? i started thinking about human beings do you remember saddam hussein? or qaddafi? they were human beings how were they treated? they both started out well they thought they were doing pretty good saddam ended up living in a hole in the ground and then he was hanged qaddafi was murdered in the street how did you treat sadden hussein? how did he treat you? if you are a little older you might remember ronald reagan and margaret thatcher and o j simpson they were human beings too how did you treat them and how did they treat you? and if you are a real old timer you might remember khruschev and marilyn monroe and general douglas macarthur or you could go to the library and read books about people even further back, like hitler and florence nightingale and mary queen of scots and cleopatra and confucius human beings, every one of them how were they treated? there have been a lot of human beings it gets hard to keep track them all you know what i'm saying? it just goes to show you

you

you were there when i was born you didn’t even say hello when i went outside you followed when i spoke you were always behind me in broad daylight and when the sun went down into classrooms and churches supermarkets and pizza shops job interviews bars and movie theaters i traveled the earth trying to lose you by plane, by bus by foot on dusty roads by boat, on subways on roller coasters and ferris wheels once, in a canoe which did not overturn you heard my every conversation interrupted my every thought when i “met” someone on line you always showed up “in real life” i don’t know what i was thinking i give up you win here let me buy you a drink

morning glory

by samantha monday sternwall

little flower outside my window shaking in the breeze i heard a story about you tell me if you please all these years i thought you were the same every day but now i am told different this is what they say that every night you die and in the morning are replaced by another little flower with the same smiling face every night i go to sleep and every night i dream and in the morning i wake up having floated down night’s stream am i the same or different every morn? have there been 10,000 mes since i was born? o little flower let us face the day are we, or they, or anything real? who are we to say?

a walk in the rain

i decided to do something different and went for a walk in the rain and looked for signs in puddles the mystery of life to explain i met a cat with a serious face and a dog that was wagging its tail they passed me by with a look in their eye that said wisdom was not for sale i passed a bag lady drinking a fanta with the daily news spread on her head a taxi splashed me with muddy water i wished i was home in bed i entered a store of convenience a lottery ticket to buy the drawing was not until tuesday i returned to the street with a sigh i saw a man in a doorway and thought i knew his name but i passed him by without asking he might know my secret shame i wish it would rain forever and nothing ever get dry i would meet myself at the river and look myself in the eye

another day, another song

by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

if you make up a story as you go along it might turn into a happy song or it might turn into a cry of despair you will never if you are not there start with a girl who is down on her luck and a guy driving a pickup truck he stops and asks her if she wants a ride she says no and he starts to cry this story could go in a lot of directions you could cut it up in little sections he could just drive way and she could live for another day she could become a tv star and he could sit in a lonely bar and look up and see her face on the screen and wonder what it all means or he could look through a dark lens and vow eternal revenge on the whole female species while she gets a tan on sunny beaches or they could both go down the road dreaming in a secret code that unlocks the key to these universes of solitude, despair, and curses

at dusk

by corinne delmonico

samuel was a spider felicia was a fly kenneth was a dragon with a twinkle in his eye leonard was a lion boris was a bat amanda was a little girl who thought the earth was flat they all got together in the old house at dusk pamela was the parlor maid who never had much lusk jenkins was the lawyer who was to read the will but he had a spot of bother and was nabbed by old bill out in the distance a train whistle cries carrying away the prophets who thought they were so wise they all sat in the parlor waiting for their tea they can wait there forever if it were only up to me

in the end

by corinne delmonico

everything comes out right in the end the sun comes out and the children dance in the streets st george defeats the dragon and the villagers go back to their homes clint eastwood guns down judas on the main street of jerusalem as jezebel and salome watch from the window of king herod’s palace anne frank takes down hitler with a few kung fu chops on the streets of leningrad as king richard the lion-hearted and his troops enter the city errol flynn and shirley temple are married by christpher columbus on the deck of old ironsides as genghis khan surrenders his sword to george washington sherlock holmes arrests omar khayyam just as he is about to slip poison into the teacup of florence nightingale bob hope is telling jokes to the troops when albert einstein announces a new cure for old age and death cinderella’s sisters give her a new car and a new washing machine and tell her they were always just kidding mother teresa and mae west wave from balconies as the troops come marching home from the war against the galactic empire mayor frank james and sheriff jesse james welcome billy the kid home from the war and treat him to a free strawberry ice cream sundae. billy gets to sleep in his own little bed again so do saladin and montezuma and andy jackson and nat turner and john brown and geronimo and john wayne thomas edison and charles lindbergh build a space ship and the whole human race gets into it and flies to heaven forever in the end

the accused

by anonymous

ah, most miserable of creatures, why must i confront you every day in the mirror? in the reflections of windows as i pass through the cold and windy streets of the bleak and evil city? my condition is an unfortunate one, though not, perhaps, one to inspire much pity, or even comprehension, among my fellows. for i am haunted - yes, haunted - not by a ghost, and not by guilt for anything i have done or not done. nor am i pursued, or feel myself to be pursued, as so many do, by a double - someone who will commit some horrid crime, or espouse some atrocious cause, for which i will then be blamed. nor have i been accused of any specific crime, which i could then deny and attempt to bring proof out innocence or hunted by a specific accuser - an accuser with a face or name, that i could confront. no , i am haunted by the certainty that somehow, some way, i will be accused - of some as yet undreamed of deed, unspeakably monstrous, by a hidden and nameless accuser, who might accost me at any time, as i turn a corner, as i enter a cafe, who might emerge from under the staircase as i repair at night to my miserable fourth floor lodgings… and cry - you! you! you are the one! and i will be dumb… and i will have no defense… oh accuser, come forth! spare me this endless torment, such as no one has ever suffered before! reader, as you walk the street, as you gaze from your window, perhaps even as you enjoy the warmth go a cozy hearth, or the happy voices of some boon companions, have you ever felt this same fear, even for a fleeting moment? or is this torment reserved for myself alone? alone among all? alone!

emily mae

by huck chatterton

hey, remember emily mae? no, jerry we don’t remember her what a woman! what a body! the biggest boobs the greatest ass the longest legs west of the mississippi you read about her in some book, jerry she used to come in here every night she was a pal always good for a laugh nothing shocked her you could say anything to her and she’d just laugh because she believed in sexual freedom just like you and me she always had a smile not like these stuck up bitches and feminazis today don’t start, jerry please and if a guy was broke she was always good for a touch or at least buy you a drink and what a body! what an ass! you must remember her ass at least come on, guys you must remember emily mae only you, jerry only you she must have been you own special girl nobody ever saw her but you and some of us have been coming here twenty, thirty years do the math

song for the end times

by corinne delmonico

humans were born to be free but are enslaved by society rounded up from meadows and fields and to kings and priests forced to kneel this has gone on for thousands of years as the priests feed the flames of fear and kings wave the flags of hate until now it is almost too late o humans rise up from the dust and the pit into which you have been thrust the earth has been looted and despoiled and now your bones will be boiled the masters are preparing their ships with smiles on their lying lips they are ready to blast off into space to destroy some other unsuspecting race the universe is vast and cold but the story is getting old and the trail of desolation you can not put a happy face on if you dispute the truth of my rhyme and only wish to have a good time the saints be with you my friend and my song is at an end

the dead wear white hats on the devil's birthday

don’t talk to me about love and hate i know all about love and hate i used to wait on the corner for the school bus cars went by in the wind and rain there was a police lady who directed traffic she had red hair and a blue uniform with a blue cap and i loved her and there was a newsstand run by an old man and he was ugly and i hated him so don’t tell me i don’t know about love and hate i learned early

i already saw this movie more than once

i have walked this way before likewise, seen that moonlit shore this deserted garden looks familiar and oh those distant hills, yeah it’s a dirty shame but it all looks the same every night i return to this street but never learn who is looking down on me from that bridge above the sea from that ship in the night as it floats away from sight and the light that briefly shines through the lonesome pines as the car runs out of gas yes, this way we all must pass and the house on the hill i should get there, but never will i walk and walk and walk there are no numbers on the clock

murder

a found poem

my god she said in a quivering voice he’s dead murdered as you can see who - who could have done it? i’ve no idea, i just got here the window was open and i just walked in he was lying there we have to call the police but first i have an announcement to make helen and i are engaged oh peter that’s wonderful what a shame this had to happen just now look here maurice drawled why call the damned police at all? why not sort it out ourselves the police are only our servants after all yes yes helen and peter cried eagerly there is plenty of room in the garden to bury him whoever he may be and that was how it all began

the traveler

a weary traveler walks down a lonely road to a deserted garden. where are you going, o traveler, and why are you so weary? i am weary because i have traveled a long way, and because i am lonely. why are you lonely, o traveler? i see a light in the distance. perhaps it an inn or a pub, you could retreat to its cozy warmth and rub elbows with your fellow creatures, consume a warm or cold beverage as your fancy suits you, perhaps share your thoughts on politics or art or philosophy or religion. such things are not for me, i walk alone. alone, always alone. night is falling, o traveler, are you not afraid of losing your way? i have already lost my way, a long time ago. the moon is rising, o traveler, perhaps it will light your way. i have no way - no way except to doom. look at this deserted garden, traveler, does it remind you of happier days? no, not of happier days, but of all i ever loved. and what might that have been? the flowers. ah, the flowers, always the flowers. yes, the flowers that bloomed, the flowers that never bloomed, the flowers that were cut and placed in vases, that were displayed in lit windows, the flowers that blew away, that blew away in the dust, even as i…. ah, poor traveler, i will delay you no longer. the flowers that blew away, that blew away in the dust, even as i….

respect

all i want is to be free nobody is forcing you to do anything i want respect whatever happened to wanting to be free? you are the problem, you know that? everybody is the problem there wouldn't be any problem if everybody just showed a little respect i am sorry, but i can’t use you let’s keep in line there you two, keep the noise down yes, sir, thank you for your concern the security guard gives them a long hard look so’s your old man because there are no solutions

the stranger

by manfred corrington sternwall

i was born to rule the earth but nobody noticed it at first and treated me as just another anonymous little earthly brother my early years were filled with woe i had no place much to go it should come as no surprise my brain was streamed with endless lies how i waited for the day when i could stand up and say i have had enough - hereafter you shall be pupils - i shall be master the years went by- i was assigned my place in society’s waiting line i expected as i grew older for the world to tap me on the shoulder and say, you should not be here there is some mistake, i fear you are not number 21,876,943,501 you are the child of the sun the years disappear in the breeze but somehow nobody sees will they never learn? must again and again i return?