Poem by Dr. Alok Kumar Ray – Let not give me Sermon! January 3, 2023
Posted by vscorpiozine in poems, poetry, Uncategorized, Veteran Poets.Tags: Dr. Alok Kumar Ray, poems, poetry, poets from India
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Let not give me Sermon!
Don’t you know, my soulmate
I am neither a habitual offender of casual type
Nor an escapist with utmost hype!
You know a little bit but very well
About me, my sense of both seriousness and humour,
My outer side that dazzles day in and day out.
My inner self that hides its face under the veil of dark paramount.
Gone are those days when though being matured by age,
I was also a novice of cent percentage.
Knew not I the prevailing atmosphere of selfishness at the core but philanthropic at the front galore.
You left me on the way,
Whether to perish or flourish,
The reasons you know the better,
How I can guess , what was the matter?
But your unprovoked indifference, being a silver lining
Gave me a lesson to learn
Don’t tell me like my grandmother,
Now everyday, at each moment of every journey I meet persons and events novel and unforeseen.
I very well know where exists the deadly manhole and also the footpath that resists the turmoil,
When to overtake at which juncture and when to say someone good bye with kind gesture,
Where the speed needs to be augmented and where the rumblers are sharp enough haunted.
The ups and downs of this road have opened up my eyes for good,
Now it’s hard for someone to deceive me in plentitude.
Even now you are not the right person for me to sermoning,
May be one of my well-wishers whom I still love and beckoning.
Dr. Alok Kumar Ray
Bio-Note: Dr.Ray is a professor of Political Science and a bilingual poet who hails from Kendrapara district of Odisha in India..He has authored two poetry books in solo i.e. Sillage (in English) and Meghapanata (in Odia). He has edited one international bilingual poetry anthology named as Trouvaille. By profession he is an academician, but by passion he is a poet.
Poem by John Sweet – with broken wings, with bruised hearts December 29, 2022
Posted by vscorpiozine in John Sweet, poems, poetry, Veteran Poets.Tags: John Sweet, poems, poetry, veteran poets
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with broken wings, with bruised hearts
& the future is prisons, you see,
and the future is loss
let go of yr house, of yr
children, but hang onto the hatred
that defines you
give up christ
give up all those pretty songs
your mother used to sing
close in on holiness
like a soldier taking aim
Read more of John’s poetry at The Bleeding Horse, Avenged
Poem by Sushant Thapa – Beautiful Melancholy December 10, 2022
Posted by vscorpiozine in poems, poetry, Sushant Thapa.Tags: poems, poetry, Sushant Thapa
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Beautiful Melancholy
Finding Lana Del Rey’s song
“Summertime Sadness” beautiful,
I spill my happiness.
My gates of misery
Are closed forever.
I have the spinning world
Under my feet.
The stars that miss the sun
Have awakened in the morning sky;
They are only unseen to your eyes.
My pure passionate heart
Has seen troubled arts
And have got drunk in
Their expressive happiness.
I get carried away by their
True expressions.
The cup of life,
Sugar-coated self
Is far untrue than a true sky
That pours melancholic rain.
Each time I turn the page
Love gets misread
In the unshared room of life.
I wait to dream again.
A drop of heaven
In liquefied and poured melancholy
Is what I read.
When the Himalaya misread my signs
I built a road to mount on it.
In shards of love, a poem
I shared wayback, I express
How melancholic a lover is
And at times how happy he is.
A mixture of imagination
And whistling wind
Carries the message of love
And scripts “Melancholic, but true.”
Freedom battles with melancholia
And reaches the soaring height of
Blue without pain.
Bio of the poet: Sushant Thapa is a Nepalese poet from Biratnagar, Nepal who holds a
Master’s degree in English literature from Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi,
India.
He has published three books of poetry namely: The Poetic Burden and Other Poems
(Authorspress, New Delhi, 2020), Abstraction and Other Poems (Impspired, UK, 2021)
and Minutes of Merit (Haoajan, Kolkata, 2021).
Sushant has been published in places like The Gorkha Times, The Kathmandu Post,
The Poet Magazine, The Piker Press, Trouvaille Review, Lothlorien Poetry Journal,
Impspired, Harbinger Asylum, New York Parrot, Pratik Magazine, The Beatnik
Cowboy, The Dope Fiend Daily, Atunis Poetry, EKL Review, The Quiver Review,
Dissident Voice, As It Ought To Be Magazine and International Times, among many.
He has also been anthologized in national and International anthologies. His poem is
also included in the Paragon English book for Grade 6 students in Nepal. He teaches
Business English to undergraduate level students of BBA and BIT at Nepal Business
College, Biratnagar, Nepal.
Poems by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozabal – The Finding and Heavy Baggage August 20, 2022
Posted by vscorpiozine in Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, poems, poetry.Tags: Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, poems, poetry
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The Finding
It is all in the finding.
It is in unearthing what
is lost. It is a matter of
luck to find peace in
this world. Go on about
it. Go do what you will.
I am opening veins. I
will not let the pain get
in the way. It is all about
coming out of the hole.
It is in the way you fight.
Leave the past behind.
Bury the past if you must.
It is a lot to take in. Let
this finding commence.
Heavy Baggage
I leave the heavy baggage at home.
It will remain there when I go back.
I leave it there in hope that someday
there is a positive metamorphosis.
The baggage will be gone and I will
no longer carry it around with me.
I want to feel light as a feather.
The weight has been dragging me down.
It will take a lot of luck and work.
My baggage is an anchor on my soul.
It is nothing to take lightly.
I only have so much time left.
Bio:
Luis lives in California and works in the mental health field in Los Angeles. His poetry and artwork has appeared in Art:Mag, Medusa’s Kitchen, Nerve Cowboy, Rogue Wolf Press, and Venus in Scorpio Poetry E-Zine.
Poem by Jade Blackmore – A Man of Some Renown July 24, 2022
Posted by vscorpiozine in Jade Blackmore, poems, poetry, Veteran Poets.Tags: Jade Blackmore, poems, poetry, veteran poets
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He was a man of some renown in certain circles. All the crusty bohemians, naïve wanna-bes, and adjuncts to the rich and famous crossed paths with him. You’d find him at blueblood soirees, art galleries, and biker bars.
“I met this guy in the Village,” someone would say, and drop his name, with no description or story attached. And their friends would chime in with unbridled enthusiasm. “Yeah, I know, he’s an asshole” “He owes me money!” or “A girl I work with is his mistress. He treats her like shit.”
But when he died, everybody was ready with a sound bite.
“He was an outstanding guy, a real trailblazer” they all agreed, “We’ll miss him.
Poem by Sushant Thapa – Third Heart of Love February 15, 2022
Posted by vscorpiozine in poems, poetry, Sushant Thapa.add a comment
This winter
You came with warm hugs.
I have always kept you close
To feel every season touch me gently.
Escape not like a trespasser
Make me a castle of your address.
I am a metaphor man
Make me lyrical enough to smile.
When you pranked me in April and wrote
“I Love You”
I was a fool to not accept it.
They say love is short lived.
Bring me the forever living time
And make me timeless.
Let’s build a third heart
After yours and mine.
I keep collecting you in my art
Nothing feels new
My mind has become your memory.
The dew that dried knew our love.
The snow that melted traced our love.
Author’s bio: Sushant Thapa is a Nepalese poet from Biratnagar, Nepal who holds a Master’s degree in English literature from Jawaharlal Nehru University, New Delhi, India. His poems have been published in places like Vscorpiozine’s Blog, Trouvaille Review, The Quiver Review, EKL Review, New York Parrot, Ponder Savant, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Harbinger Asylum, The Kathmandu Post, My Republica, Bharath Vision, Visible Magazine, Sindh Courier, International Times, The Piker Press, Synchronized Chaos Magazine, Pratik Magazine, Impspired, Dumpster Fire Press, The Beatnik Cowboy and As It Ought To Be Magazine. He has also published three books of poetry.
Poems and Artwork by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal – Night Be Mine and How Good You Have It November 18, 2021
Posted by vscorpiozine in Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, poems, poetry, Southern California poets.Tags: Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, poems, poetry, Southern California poets
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Night Be Mine
Night be mine.
All its darkness.
The moon. A
Wall of stars.
Night of dreams.
The moonlight.
The punctual train.
And dark shadow.
Because night
Beats life into
My wings. I
Dream of night
And its stars
And dark shadow.
How Good You Have It
You do not know how
good you have it until
you have been Haldol’ed.
If I had gone into the
family practice and learned
math, I would have been ok.
Just send me home, where
I can continue to dance
to my own music and beat.
When is the pizza coming?
I don’t need to work. Call
a cop or call a copycat.
I cannot hear you. My ears
stopped working years ago.
Blame it on Schizophrenia.
Call a cab for me or put me
on a bus to Neptune or Mars.
I want to get out of this place.
I am sticking to my story
and you stick to yours and
I’ll catch you outside one day.
BIO: Born in Mexico, Luis lives in California and works in Los Angeles. His latest book, Make the Water Laugh, was published by Rogue Wolf Press and can be purchased through Amazon. His poetry has appeared in Blue Collar Review, Kendra Steiner Editions, Mad Swirl, Unlikely Stories, and Venus in Scorpio Poetry E-Zine.
Poem by John Grey – The Loud Honk September 27, 2021
Posted by vscorpiozine in John Grey, poems, poetry.Tags: John Grey, poems, poetry
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THE LOUD HONK
Traffic near stalled.
The car in front of me
continued to occupy
the place I wanted to be
more than any other.
But, as the vehicle inched forward,
so did that place.
I could see the back of the head
of the woman driving.
It didn’t matter who she was,
what she looked like
or whether her personality
was frothy beer or iced tea.
I couldn’t tell if it
was her selfishness,
or just plain luck,
that saw her edge by
Greg’s liquor store
moments ahead of me.
or stop for some guy
in the crosswalk
when that was a role
I could only see myself in.
I finally pressed my finger
on the horn
because I wanted her to know
that, though she was already
crossing Elm street
and it looked like
I wouldn’t make the light,
that tomorrow could well
be a different story.
That was the sound you all heard.
Not my impatience.
My ultimate vindication.
BIO: John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Penumbra, Poetry Salzburg Review and Hollins Critic. His latest books, “Leaves On Pages” and “Memory Outside The Head” are available through Amazon. He has work upcoming in Lana Turner and International Poetry Review.
Poem by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal – Too Long June 15, 2021
Posted by vscorpiozine in Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal, New Poets, poems, poetry, Uncategorized.add a comment
Too Long
Could you spare
some sunlight
and blue skies?
This evening
has gone on
for too long.
It is not
even close
to midnight,
but I have
to ask, bring
on the day.
I would not
mind losing
out on sleep.
I do not
need to go
straight to bed.
I am not
in the mood for
stars tonight.
Bring on the
sun burning
hot as hell.
This is the
night you say
goodbye to
me. This is
the night that
ended us.
Bio: Luis lives in California and works in the mental health field in Los Angeles. His latest poetry book, Make the Water Laugh, was published by Rogue Wolf Press in 2021. His poems have appeared in Blue Collar Review, Kendra Steiner Editions, Mad Swirl, Unlikely Stories, and Venus in Scorpio Poetry E-Zine.
Poems by John Sweet- “in these cupped hands holding nothing” and “theme for the eternal now” April 29, 2021
Posted by vscorpiozine in John Sweet, poems, poetry, Veteran Poets.Tags: John Sweet, poems, poetry
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in these cupped hands holding nothing
a sound like christ
denying the pain
a cold sunlit morning filled
with junkie priests and shadow kings
the lie that all of these wars are
different and not tied together by the
same ropes of ignorance
and greed
and it was a mistake
i made once, not numbering
myself among the cowards
it was my father who
showed me the light
knew we might not all be nowhere
but we are all still nothing
we are all the flesh of god left
rotting at the freeway’s edge
can’t spend our lives being afraid
to dig for the humor buried
down underneath
all of that blood-soaked pain
theme for the eternal now
let our blood be a gift,
a song
let peace be
the obvious answer
not picasso, but chagall
not pollock, but tobey
see?
it only ends up being a
lifetime of distance between us
it only ends up being a
mistake followed
by a missed opportunity
a phone call that
no one answers
a letter written but
never sent
and are you someone who
would apologize to
empty space?
are you a better god?
it’s not answers i’m after
here, but actions
it’s an admission of regret,
but then what?
time is the enemy
the future holds the end
you can only admit to
love or deny it
you can only accept
the answer
is this why we spend our
whole lives afraid?
Read more of John’s poetry at The Bleeding Horse, Avenged
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