Jamaican Idol

by Terese Svoboda

Walking backward from the sea,
scales shedding, you seek the cave.

This is why the French door admits
only ocean. You stare into the louver

and forget how to get out. Lull
is the word, or loll. The sea returns,

completing your pulse, the waves live,
each breath of yours worship.

Crabs in a Barrel

It’s dark.
The air is thick.
It reeks of musk and envy.
Every once in awhile,
the faint smell of rotten flesh
tells me another has given up.
Cynicism breeds rapidly
and it’s time to get out.
But each night is the same.
I muster up the strength,
prepare for the climb.
As I draw closer to the top
one latches on,
parasite-like, and then another
and another.
I’m a fighter.
I’m strong.
Pessimistic and defeatist thoughts
I dismiss.
But the sheer weight
defeats my vigor.
Some laugh,
consider me foolhardy
for trying.
“Foolish dreamer,” they say.
But, I can see the moon.
And when I try
really hard,
I can smell the salt water.
Elevation is in my reach.
So, I will never give up.
Even it means gnawing off
each limb.
I won’t be held back.

Taken

By AJ Strong

Breathe in slowly deeply and now exhale …do you feel it?
Now do it again… but this time close your eyes and smirk, not a smile but a smirk.
A small sense of pride felt by a twisted choice.
I feel glad no sad no glad wait stop!
Ok well truth is I like it a lot.
Did you know that it would be like this?
I didn’t want to do it, I tried not to, really I did, but gosh when I did it felt so good so right.

One day I woke up and all the sudden it was gone, I searched and searched and searched some more but damn it was gone.
I looked in my heart, I looked in my soul and last I looked in my head.

Frantically I continued to search, panicked I reached for help, I got nothing.

And then it there it was, I erupted, short sudden breaths over and over again, breathing quickly, heavily, crazy uncontrollable tears began to flow, no wait gush like a fierce river, the kind of cry you can only cry when change is in your face.
I cried, I cried so hard my head hurt, its throbbing, so hard my eye were burning, so hard my body was shaking, my cheeks were flushed.
I had no control, its grip was so tight, I assume feeling similar to large, warm hands wrapped around ones neck without permission.
I could feel the wetness on the bed, I could hear the voice in my head.

None of it mattered.

It stopped and then I arose, strangely in a feather like state.
A lack of weight that was present and mine, mine to have, to feel, to own.

Breathe in slowly deeply and now exhale … do you feel it?

Freedom is present.

Bleed

My new favorite song by Hot Chelle Rae; the lyrics really resonate me - I have bled my heart out on paper a many of times.

Why do you wear such dark glasses?

A single strip, two-inch wide,
buttery-golden highlight
radiates from her blue black
curly tresses
curly tresses that behave
in the humidity
and bounce
when she laughs
I bet
when she’s not laughing
she’s smiling
her lips marmalade
red -- candy apple -- not blood red
tinted glasses
cover her ebony eyes
not the trendy kind
but, the concealing kind
I did see her eyes – once
ebony, not nefarious,
melancholy, after asking,
“Why do you wear such dark glasses?
To mask the pain?
Disguise your sadness?”
“Perhaps...if I wanted to keep eye readers at bay,”
she spoke softly
the voice of angel
she reached for her glasses
and then hesitated
as if she changed her mind
she tilted her head
and peered at me
over her glasses:
“I refuse to look death in the eye.
And when death comes a knocking,
I won’t answer.”