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Ugly Truth

The ugly truth, the shadow that wonders alone,
It’s the dark space in the corner of the room where love isn’t shown,
The ignored people whose personality is ignored and unknown,
It’s the face in the mirror that cracks on sight,
The same mirror where society reflects beauty and glamour where self loathing ignites,
Anorexia, plastic surgeries, implants, anabolic steroids, self destruction, and despite,
The natural beauty of humankind destroyed by artificial cosmetics,
Similar to drugs that induces the nonexistent pain from anesthetics,
It’s the poisonous salt induced in self healing known as tartar emetic,
Invisible, pain underlined the surface to project beauty from self destruction inside to route the beauty out,
But the ugly truth is, cosmetics is the bud in plants that doesn’t sprout,
It’s the mirror that humanity looks into every day with doubt,
The doubt that induces perfection from the outside,
It’s the disease inducing shallow emotions from humans worldwide,
Victimized is the people who will never know the pleasure of someday being a groom or bride,
It’s that same cracked mirror that reflects self loathing and the tears we cry,
It’s the anxiety induced from outside the mirror in the room where in the corner we hide,
The smile that is looked as a broken masterpiece from the finest art,
The ugly truth, where beauty from inside the heart is ignored from the start,
It’s the puzzle of human life, where natural beauty of personality is ripped apart,

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poem by Kurt Kacich
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Le Flacon (The Perfume Flask)

II est de forts parfums pour qui toute matière
Est poreuse. On dirait qu'ils pénètrent le verre.
En ouvrant un coffret venu de l'Orient
Dont la serrure grince et rechigne en criant,

Ou dans une maison déserte quelque armoire
Pleine de l'âcre odeur des temps, poudreuse et noire,
Parfois on trouve un vieux flacon qui se souvient,
D'où jaillit toute vive une âme qui revient.

Mille pensers dormaient, chrysalides funèbres,
Frémissant doucement dans les lourdes ténèbres,
Qui dégagent leur aile et prennent leur essor,
Teintés d'azur, glacés de rose, lamés d'or.

Voilà le souvenir enivrant qui voltige
Dans l'air troublé; les yeux se ferment; le Vertige
Saisit l'âme vaincue et la pousse à deux mains
Vers un gouffre obscurci de miasmes humains;

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poem by Charles Baudelaire
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Junk The Magic Dragon

Mellow yellow acid kiss
Warhol painted callio-trips
Spining, spining, spin again
Coke, tar, crystal methane thrill
Cash in dime for a ride
My brain like eggs is cracked and fried
Cash in dime for a ride
My brain like eggs is cracked and fried
Junk the magic dragon
Lives, in my pain
Junk the magic dragon, yeah
Love will always end, it ends in pain
(?)
Bones are pulled so tight on skin
Like canvas tent poles or something
I need smiles on my lips
Oh, but it gives incentives
Cash in dime for a ride
My brain like eggs is cracked and fried
Cash in dime for a ride

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song performed by Marilyn Manson
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Abject Ones, Six Falling—Nightingale Confesses Into Straighter Teeth

The term Abjection literally means 'the state of being cast off.' In usage it has connotations of degradation, baseness and abasement of spirit.

'...descend and of the curveship lend a myth to God.' - from 'To Brooklyn Bridge'

The boys, six falling: Tyler Clementi, Raymond Chase, Asher Brown, Billy Lucas, Seth Walsh, Justin Aaberg

'What does a man come to with his virility gone? ' - Walt Whitman

'He sought for his beautiful body
and encountered his opened blood
Do not ask me to see it! ' - Federico Garcia Lorca*

My Dearest Valdosta,

Even the pigeons on my stoop are silent now.

One mourning dove coos tenderly for these who have taken their own lives publicly on our behalf, for untold scores gone before them with broken hearts enraged, no more to engage the unpersuaded world which, one of them, one of the public ones, in spite of murmuring wharves, in spite of amorous dark alleys bitter in the pitch in the hateful American Twentieth Century, Hart Crane, wrote before his leap from the ship beside the phallic curve where Cuba meets the lisping sea, took his tongue away which sang to us of chill dawns breaking upon bridges whose spans still freely splinter light returning hungover from night wharves' grottoes and denim grasps, World Wars' industrial embraces crushing every man, and now another one abandons his fingers and fiddling, o scattering light, takes flight from ledges to edge close to an embrace no longer forbidden—

And so it was I entered the broken world to trace the visionary company of love... - Hart Crane

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poem by Warren Falcon
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Of Ancient Mastodon, Sleepy Bee & Young Men Who Leap Too Soon From Bridges - Nightingale Confesses Into Straighter Teeth

'...descend, and of the curveship lend a myth to God.' - Hart Crane

Pueri aeterna, septem cadens
Etiam plures ad

The boys eternal, seven falling
Too many more to come

Jamey Rodemayer
Tyler Clementi
Raymond Chase
Asher Brown
Billy Lucas
Seth Walsh
Justin Aaberg

Sub olivae, pacem
Ut vos omnes adoremus orientatio

Under the olive trees, peace

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poem by Warren Falcon
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A Fable For Critics

Phoebus, sitting one day in a laurel-tree's shade,
Was reminded of Daphne, of whom it was made,
For the god being one day too warm in his wooing,
She took to the tree to escape his pursuing;
Be the cause what it might, from his offers she shrunk,
And, Ginevra-like, shut herself up in a trunk;
And, though 'twas a step into which he had driven her,
He somehow or other had never forgiven her;
Her memory he nursed as a kind of a tonic,
Something bitter to chew when he'd play the Byronic,
And I can't count the obstinate nymphs that he brought over
By a strange kind of smile he put on when he thought of her.
'My case is like Dido's,' he sometimes remarked;
'When I last saw my love, she was fairly embarked
In a laurel, as _she_ thought-but (ah, how Fate mocks!)
She has found it by this time a very bad box;
Let hunters from me take this saw when they need it,-
You're not always sure of your game when you've treed it.
Just conceive such a change taking place in one's mistress!
What romance would be left?-who can flatter or kiss trees?

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poem by James Russell Lowell
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Cracked Lips My First winter

first winter
my lips
crack

with a pair
cracked lips
i greet my first winter

cracked lips
that's how i greeted
my first winter

or rather that's how
my first winter
greeted me

(tokyo,1988)

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Those Who Sat In Worship Of That

Their values are gone and their minds have cracked.
Every belief taught that they've had...
Has unraveled with the dollar,
And that's a fact.
Their foundations were based on things to entrap.
And those things are now worthless...
To those who sat in worship of that!
Now they carry sadness and remorse on their backs.
Their values are gone and their minds have cracked.

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Tablets

The tablet stood on the counter,
Pulling us aside like a trap;
The door cracked afterwards,
Like Saturn’s rings or eggs.
Only a year turned us upside down,
Left the door locked, at the end.
I grabbed the door before the floor
Collapsed and this ringing started.
The door cracked again, repetitively,
Once it broke, the door collapsed.
I pulled the refuse onto the counter
To await sleep and the medicine.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Cracked

Piped and smacking munchies.
Cracked while passing lit delights.
Strung out to numb...
Any thoughts,
Of making decisions that come!

Relaxed and cracked.
Listening to rap tracks.
Fizzled minds gaining nothing learned!
Burning generations to crispy creatures.

As elders watch...
With wise eyes fixed on their demise,
And realizing much too late...
The tick tocking of a clock that's heard,
Does not wait...
For belated actions to solve their fates,
In debates to delay the doom that awaits.
Or flaws to be corrected in the laws all break!

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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