Jim Smith
Mark Lipman
Hillary Kaye
Mary Getlein
Ron McKinley
Roger Houston
Humberto Gómez Sequeira-HuGóS
NOPD, NOPD, a thousand times NOPD
By Jim Smith
Venice is a beach town
Not a highfalutin suit-and-tie town
The waves come and go ’cause they’re free,
and, yes indeed, so are we.
It’s a pleasure to live by the ocean blue
but that don’t mean you can’t come too.
Our friends drop by when they please
there’s no need to R-S-V-P
Come on down and you shall see
Venice, the greatest place there’ll ever be
It’s goin’ on now, and 24/7
in our little piece of heaven
We’ll make new friends every single day
if we just loosen up and share the right-of-way
Dear neighbors don’t hide behind fences ever so high
Don’t drive away Venetians and visitors between 2 and five.
So visit often and bring your board, or kids,
a picnic lunch, your drum, and a little fizz
Come escape that summer nighttime inner-city heat
Swing shift workers head for the beach, what a treat
Watch that late night Moon over Venice sink into the sea
Sit on the sand while the stars shine oh so bright, whoopee!
Come one, come all, rich and poor, beautiful people of the rainbow,
LBGT and otherly abled, come see Venice before it’s just a fable
We like it all, that’s true, but let me make it very clear
NOPD, We don’t need no stinkin’ OPD permits around here
That dumb old Pay to Park
Just makes me want to barf.
By Mark Lipman
First they take the seed
the fetus of our food chain
and modify it genetically
splicing it with poisons
and things that should never be
like scorpion genes
and all things unholy.
They change the nucleus
the very center of all life
to be resistant
to the most toxic pollutants
they can round up.
Yet, contrary to their advertisement,
resistant is not immune
mutations begin to bloom
and laboratory human rats
limp with tumors to their tombs,
while judges and lawmakers
sanction all this gloom upon us,
forcing farmers to plant these deadly crops
that have untold consequences to our DNA.
and so too must we go,
the way of the honey bee.
Taking down trade barriers,
while erecting walls
between human beings
and their humanity,
I wanna talk
about illegal immigration.
Open up the history books
to Columbus and Cortez
to John Smith,
the Doctrine of Discovery,
(as if Native Americans
  did not already know that they exist).
Stealing as they go,
destroying any trace of our native culture.
Bulldozer in tow, they take what we sow,
and pervert mother earth for their greedy purpose.
Now they export their killer corn across all borders
while impoverishing local farmers
and entire countries.
The poor denied the human right to travel freely
denied their right to self-determination.
Who gave Monsanto the right
to immigrate into my body?
to pattern my blood cells?
to change my genetic structure?
Is this what you call Free Trade?
As if the theft were not enough
the abuse of modern technology
to gain the ill-begotten
to steal the land, the water, the air
to destroy our food supply
Here’s comes something to really make your skin peal
brought direct to you from the makers of Napalm:
The private army,
the Z/Blackwater para-military,
C.I.A. trained mercenaries
and their puppet governments
to do the bidding of the highest bidder
to hold a gun to your head
while they force feed you
genetically altered tofu and mutant fish
all approved by the CEO-FDA
It’s all connected
from bullets to butter.
Did you know that someone makes a buck off it
every time a drone strikes?
I want that person arrested.
And oh, my God,
I’m here to contest this
assertion of the corporate person
and assumption of privilege
of some company having more rights than me
of playing god with our lives and ecology
of pushing humanity to the very brink of extinction.
Their money is a fiction
to keep us enslaved
to keep us in chains
and it’s high time that we break ‘em.
Memorial Day
we will live on mars
someday if we are lucky
and the palm trees illuminated by the azure sky
i know how life is stolen
I know the darkness that invades the soul
before suicide
think on these soliders today
their cursed lives eaten….. their flesh consumed by imperial dictators
held hostage by their own small hopes
killers in three piece suits drag their young bodies to be choked
by dreams of empire
we will live on mars if we are lucky
this planet will be eaten by bugs.
hillary kaye
Going Home
maybe it’s time for me to walk somewhere else
there is so much more than this
these fights year after year
for mere survival
maybe it’s time to hear something else
than the endless discussion of us and them
who are we against this year?
who are we for?
are we for the Earth or against it?
are we for our Mother Earth, our Mother Ocean?
or are we content to keep the cruelty going
the killing off of species, including our own
why will we do this?
we want so much money
not realizing the money will do us no good
when we shiver with fear behind the gates
of our gated community
by deciding not to act in a human-like fashion
we are just machines of rage and cruelty
we condemn our children to a future filled with nothing
no trees, no birds, no animals, no love
just endless miles of concrete
with no shade from the burning sun
we cut down all the trees and burned them for fire
in the global chaos that is surely coming
who will survive
when water costs more than oil
what will we drink?
meanwhile the green sea turtles are swimming slowly
slowly slowly they travel home
to a beautiful blue-green island
a beautiful home! they don’t know what concrete
feels like
they are swimming slowly slowly they are home
– Mary Getlein
Face The
By Ronald K. McKinley
Face the mask that looks like a face
The soft that is hard
Face the high that is low
The righteous that is godless
Face the wit that is dull
The mannered that is unpretentious
Face the facts that are facts
The cooled constant wind of synthesized hate
Face the about face
The lack of grace
Face the countenance of character
The mote in God’s eye
Face the time
The place
Face the immovable
The actual
Face the fate
The experienced but unskilled emotions
Face the first
The last
01:05 Wednesday, May 15th, 2013, Adullam ….. One hundred twenty-seven years
have passed, Since you took leave to leave, to breathe your last. So many
winters left their chilling mark While other eyes took notice. All the work
Enscribed in pencil by your noble hand, Would gradually see daylight. It would
send A letter to the world at your request. Recipient am I, here in the west.
But what’s a century? As friend to friend, I sense that you still breathe. I
feel the wind, While other ears heard voices in the dark. Was that your ghostly
touch, creating spark? Your “Complete Poems” lingers, to attest That you are
welcome here, an honored guest ….. Roger Houston, for Emily Dickinson.
The Sensation of Being
Everyone, seduced by illusion,
devises a self impersonation
with face and proud intonation.
Beware of the pitiful conclusion,
when death numbs the sensation
of being an object of excitation.
—Humberto Gómez Sequeira-HuGóS
Los Angeles, 20 May 2013