TO THOREAU AWAY SOCIETY

David was right

To Thoreau away society,

Step Rhythmed distance

Within his life as art,

Reflecting beauty's intuition,

The voice of which...

Few hear.

Henry did not keep pace with his companions,

His Waldon Pond mirror reflected,

A measure of life few grasped.

BIO: Douglas H. Melloy. I am a musician. I play congas and bongos. I teach Martial arts. I have a black belt in kenpo karate. I have wirtten nine books, seven of which are in print. I enjoy dancing, playing live music, cooking, walking my dog, and drinking wines. I am 53 years young and single.

THE FICKLE NATURE OF OUR KIND

The fickle nature of our kind is not satiated without a looming air of irony; for we are unnatural. To peer out of a glass window pane and see nothing more than structures that don't grow, buckles the soul into insignificance. The makeup of whatever is made up ascertains the fact that we are creative beings. "God-like" if you will. Whether you like it or not, we are indubitably gods of our own worlds. If we weren't, our visual system wouldn't utilize the process of projection. We create our own realities with astounding precision; only to blame others for what we're responsible for. Eternally, will fortune wax and wane; and time only waits for the patient.

BIO: Carl Woods, II is a native of the state of Virginia, U.S.A. and retained a passion for the written word at a very young age. With such an understanding, he has come to realize that words have little to no power to describe the intricacies of what actually is. While studying quantum mechanics, he's become a beacon of unbridled significance to whoever reads his work. @iambecomepi on Twitter

Understanding: To Ponder the Puzzle and Wonder

To wonder less is to have more time for peace.

To have more time for peace gives more time to think.

To have more time to think creates opportunity for enjoying a good meal.

To have more good meals gives way to weight gain.

To have more weight gain leads one to energize and exercise.

To have more exercise gives more time for sightseeing.

To have more sightseeing leads one to ponder about amazing things.

To ponder about amazing things leads of course to “I wonder”

I wonder what this means.

BIO: Michael Hartzell www.michaelhartzell.com If man was meant to only sit and think without action, God would have designed the head as a barnacle. Michael Hartzell 1953-_____

INVALUABLE

He came to the decision that living outside society was his best chance for survival – the best chance for his mental survival. His job at the call center wasn’t recession-proof. Now someone in India is performing his job – a job he performed well and enjoyed doing – for a fraction of his wages.

His job gave him value, and his employer deemed him too valuable to work there. So his job was given to someone the company valued less. That’s what money does: places value upon objects and people.

Without employment, his house was too valuable for him. The bank foreclosed on his house, he was evicted, and the house sold at a lesser value – a value he could afford.

He walks to the city limits valueless to society because he has no money. But he is invaluable to himself because he is human.


BIO: A. Jarrell Hayes is a fantasy novelist and award-winning poet. His most recent works are the fantasy novel The Larorian Conflict and the poetry collection Just Another Angry Black Man. He invites you to visit his website at www.ajhayes.com. Words = Life.

The Goodbye Kiss

The Goodbye Kiss by Paul D. Brazill

The Salutation Bar was stiflingly hot and cluttered with the usual hodge podge of misfits, waifs and strays. Walter sat at a table by the window watching the streamers of steam rise from his muddy coffee. Beside him, a gangling scarecrow of a man slurped his beer with all the enthusiasm of an ex-con in a bordello. Each sip was like leaky tap drip, drip, dripping throughout a sleepless night.

Outside, the cloak of darkness had draped itself over the city, and the moon bit into the sky like a fang. The night was suddenly filled the crackle of exploding fireworks as Lena oozed into the bar like mercury. She stood before Walter and a chill of recognition sliced through him. She nodded and he stood.

The next day a church bell echoed through the granite autumn morning as Walter lay slumped against a gravestone. On his forehead, a smear of lipstick and a perfect bloody circle were all that remained of Lena’s goodbye kiss.

Bio: Paul D. Brazill was born in Hartlepool, England and is on the lam in Bydgoszcz, Poland. He has had stories in A Twist Of Noir, Six Sentences, Powder Burn Flash, Thrillers Killers n Chillers, Beat To A Pulp and other such classy joints. He can be found stalking ‘you would say that, wouldn’t you?’ at http://pdbrazill.blogspot.com/

MY FACE

My face is your face, and yours is mine,
for the likeness is obvious to me.
Who are you I ask as I stare deeply
into the mirror of my own self.

I am not afraid of you because I’m
black like charcoal and the ashes of ember.
One tarnished by the heat of the blazing
sun, even that of dried basil and such.

There can be no greater love for you in
that I cherish you with such divine
reason, and reject the notion our color
in any way, shape, or fashion degrades our

blackness. A hew so fine my heart swoons
when I behold the face of my own self.

Emmett Wheatfall is an aspiring poet living in Portland, Oregon. He is a talented writer and someone committed to respecting the art and craft of poetry. He has produced two digital recordings of his poetry: I Speak, a compilation of original poems and When I Was Young is a recording of both lyrical and non-lyrical poetry. Emmet also writes at http://pentenscribes.ning.com/

BEAUTY TO DIE FOR

Mark considers the words dressed carefully as he stands naked only a few feet from his sleeping wife.

He analyzes the purpose of clothing and tries to place today's occasion: funeral, appointment, party, every day, or rare special event?

Occasions are just another way of saying, I have a point to make or a lie to tell, I am good enough or better than you, and upon that last thought clearing his fettered mind, Mark chooses a special-occasion piece from the closet.

"Envy," he whispers softly to avoid waking his wife.

Mark imagines the fuss women make over appearance when only a little rouge and lipstick should do it, that and perhaps a gentle drag of a soft applicator over closed eyes, mascara, then a glide through moist clouds of Dior J'adore squeezed from an atomizer bulb, its shape very much like the female ovary.

He struggles to discern between hiding and enhancing at the image of stuffing a lacy brassie're, and decides man's fate is to devolve to a blunder of lies in a world that can't agree on what is beautiful.

He reaches for the Smith & Wesson hidden at the top of his closet and admires the alloy frame and the understated matte finish of the stainless steel slide. He loads the double stack magazine and adjusts the manual thumb safety before gauging his choice of attire.

After appraising his final image in the mirror, Mark glides toward his sleeping wife and places the four-inch barrel near her always beautiful face; he jumps at the sharp clack of gunfire.

He hums to dull the high-pitched ringing in his ears while remembering the beauty of his image in the mirror - the silk Versace covered in steady flashes of exploding sequins, then he eases the hot alloy into a Chanel Red pout.

Teresa Cortez is a freelance writer living in Sugar Land, Texas. She's written for the Houston Chronicle's Among Friends and Texas Magazine as well as several poetry anthologies. She writes random thoughts and stories athttp://wabisabiwords.blogspot.com

tlcortez@earthlink.net

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