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Saddam's neck

  • 01 July 2008

East End miles davis thru stereo speakers brasy honeyed jazz tho muted morose leached of potency only a treacly syrupy glibber of notes those saxy lines swelling upward from a coupé's dark low-wound window butting the balcony like raunchy baubles bumping off into the ozone on a fuzz of glamour girl champagne. Thom Sullivan Praying Praying near some long grass I saw what I had looked at and not seen — a praying mantis. Chlorophyll-green, it glowed the same way as a grass stalk when the sun shone through its body Even its structure — one blade emerging from another. Having been seen it stayed so still it took my breath away disappearing back into the grass it had already become. Cathy Altmann Middle age Everyone his own Hamlet when young. Struggling, but sure power dwells within; a river of nobility to drown the unjust who would poison our ears. Tourniquet of rapt youth dissolves any stinging venom. Hamlet never made it to be fat and forty, crucified by relentless, quivering justice. Falstaffs on Harleys, hoggishly free we chuckle and clown, farting over hills, helmeted by our thicker, stretching skins. P. S. Cottier Immortality A small boy sits on a tea-towel. The sky is the colour of wet cement and just as cold. Perhaps, he thinks, I could scratch my name in it. Michele Peterie Magi And when at last we braved the ways Of that cold, insisting star, And came to the stable, We paused at the brink Of that warm and breathing place, Where embassies of birds Were roosting in their pious eaves, And the scent of snow Was rumoured on the music of the wind; And fell upon our kingly knees, Discomposed of kingliness, In this place of small entireties, Before a child Whose eyes so vastly knew The light of royal possibilities Within the dusk of every heart. Grant Fraser Body Language I hang my head Between my knees As a crutch to support me So I won't see reality. My arms, like a protective mother Shield me from biting love And getting attacked by savage lust … Stops those coming to me As a woman. Wanting me Because I sit as a child. Although my brain beats With head breaking sadness, I am encompassed by a dome of withdrawal. Yet love is shining its eye Through the crevices of my body Making sure I don't drift too faraway Kerry Ridgway mining, the moon and whisky along a lonely stretch of river smoke escapes from a short chimney overhanging rock shadows the dusty quarry hills stained with rust and scars chipped deep wounds long dark tunnels blokes under the light of moons bruised here tarnished there warped with dents cracked and peeling in corners long cold nights same old company whisky makes it worth their while Jodie Hawthorn sun in the just past the mid afternoon sun which struck your face you were able to close your eyes & breathe it a crocheted rug pulled to your chin Rory Harris Kabul concealed in her skin, the girl does not belong where marriages are revoked the decency of the burqa covers her — but ---all day ---men glimpse ---her silver nails ---and understand Ann L. Healey Saddam's Neck