Limerick regarding the current American Debt Crisis and Impending Global Crisis, by TravelinMaam
The Empty Place of Eddie, by Majid Naficy
Here we stand, by Aryn Youngless
Where Silence Becomes Light, by Humberto Gómez Sequeira-HuGóS
Xavier, by Mary Getlein
Saturday, November 17, by Roger Houston
Limerick regarding the current American Debt Crisis and Impending Global Crisis: 
Once there was a dog named Maxwell
Who lived in a country that didn’t tax well
So Max wondered if
There was a fiscal cliff
And how he missed his president who played sax well
Je vous prie de croire,
We are the words
The Empty Place of Eddie
by Majid Naficy
Today the rain washes your blood
And wipes it from the pavement
There remains only your sunny smile,
Your tall baseball bat
Leaning against the wall,
And your backpack full of books
Waiting for your shoulders.
Curse the hand that made the gun
Curse the hand that put it in the shop
And curse the hand that pulled the trigger!
I am cold and empty
Like the shell of a bullet
Because I know that your mother
Will not pass another school again
And will not sit on bleachers
In another baseball game
And will not open her empty oven
To heat fragrant tortillas
For your dinner.
March 3, 2006
Eddie Lopez a Santa Monica High School student was gunned down on Tuesday February
28, 2006 at the 26th St. and Pico Blvd.
Here we stand
By Aryn Youngless
& she said
She didn’t like
The words
The sounds
& the
They seem a waste
She said
They seem contrived
She said
Yet here we stand
I probably agreed
Out loud, that is
To avoid
The words
I didn’t want
To hear
I don’t get it
I nodded
I don’t like it
I nodded
Yet here we stand
They shroud me
Like a
Fog, the words, I mean
They warm me
They’re just scribbles
They are my soul
I say
My blood
I say
My cliché
My rhythm
My me
Yet here we stand
Where Silence Becomes Light
For Carmen Gómez, my niece.
Carmen, you are a woman according to nature. It gave you the power of the tree of life. Your equality is not an extrinsic condition controlled by the self-designated men of god—preachers, politicians, pimps, bankers, and soldiers—that you must suffer to attain. It is the intrinsic property of your being that makes you an agency of the vibratory fertility of the universal mind.
I am here,
where silence
becomes light.
how the images that populate perception
fade away
after the conductors of their meaning
burn out
in the open air.
breathing the dream
that keeps my mind impressed
to the life stimulated
by fantastic sensations
—Humberto Gómez Sequeira-HuGóS
that little boy looked up at me
and crawled into my heart
he said: i like your brown hair
it’s so brown
it was awfully good of him not to mention
all the wrinkles on my face
this was after he announced
in a matter of fact way
that his mother was dead
i knew this but hearing him say it was so hard
he’s only five
and technically he’s not supposed to understand
but i think he’s figured it out:
she’s not coming back
but he’s alive in that jumping way
young boys have:
bouncing around the room and on other objects
including his sister.
he’s a cuddler and pushes me over on the couch
so there is room for him
to squeeze in together.
“we have the best family,” he announced
i couldn’t help but agree
“yes, you have the best family,” i said.
– Mary Getlein
01:36 Saturday, November 17th, 2012, Adullam ….. Templar of regions subterranean. Stick to the script. Likewise, stick to the plan. The sky is legend. Haven’t really seen. I’ve heard it’s up there. We are in between.
Imagine, I, what wonders may exist, To grasp within my fist. Likewise insist:There must be something just beyond the dome, The round enclosure that we all call home. I quietly await what may persist, In subtle hesitation. I resist The urge to open up the threshold’s keen, Impenetrable door. Yet to be seen. The subterranean claims me, its man. One day, I’ll not be subterranean …..Roger Houston