| Featured Poet |
| Lynn Aron a.k.a. Scorpinao X |
| DREAM In a dream you come on a whisper of mist to be with me once again because I am your favorite enfolded in your arms I feel safe and warm and loved like I haven't since you went afraid to wake up and lose you again not knowing when you will return once more in my dream you are still beautiful and remember my name I can smell your perfume as you kiss my brow and images blur to another time when I was loved best but like all good dreams this one will end I will lie in bed hoping for a last glimpse so I don't forget and you slowly evaporate into that other world and dreams of grandma are forgotten ScorpianaX copyright 2006 |
| A SOUL DESTROYED entrenched in the bowels of darkness clarity reigns in sparkling grace shining upon the slaughter of soul desperately reaching for quiet oblivion ** senseless we run toward higher planes of self-destruction heedless of the casualties left to sweep scattered debris ** hope forgotten, crushed in palm crying in tender fragility life has become a disaster area but red cross wont be sending a package ** someone blew up the bridge to Nirvana and Samsara has been closed for repair paradise drips with the blood of it's children rocked for eternity in grandfathers arms ** Shangri-La is burning and no one gives a damn ScorpianaX copyright 2006 |
| DEVESTATION Shades of green cloud my horizon prolific jealousies dance to the tune of an overindulged consumer obsession voyeuristic tendencies fueled by my lack of adequate material possessions in a world where overextension is the latest vogue my inability to stay in the fashion of shallow obsessions pushes me to the edge of societal destruction red haze functions to mar viewed perfections the beginnings of my rage the end of my rope in this mental invasion of my neurotic devastation . My soul has been sold for a longer line of credit ScorpianaX copyright 2006 |
| OLD BROWN SHOE Cracked leather forlorn in the corner ignored in dust covered neglect it stands lost, it's mate long gone remembering better times a feeling of purpose, use brown polish lovingly applied in tender ministrations places visited, concrete explored now old, without use the days of journeys have come to end relegated to a patch of carpet not even deemed worthy of the Salvation Army bag it's tears go unnoticed ScorpianaX copyright 2006 |