Friday, March 22, 2019

Vitaliy Mashchenko paints

Without an Address

 

Rizwan Saleem writes


Blankets

Blankets,
Multi colored, used blankets
That’s what they brought them in
Wrapped and ensconced
Almost as if they were asleep
In a way they were weren’t they?
Small bundles, medium size bundles
And some large ones too
All shapes and all colors
Never knew they could come in such varieties
Now they placed these on the ground
And the mob gathered, rushed to them
As if it contained treasures
Well almost, they were treasures
Or at least used to be
The reactions were different when the folds were opened
Stunned silence, wails and sobs
And of course the obligatory calls to almighty
(Ignored)
The dusty roads threw up dust, which heralded the coming
Of another vehicle bearing gifts
And those of us standing empty handed and in wait
Knew, that very soon we’d be on the receiving end.
Wails, mourns, tears, blankets!
So very useful indeed
So there were two pick ups
And they came to a screeching halt
Just before the gathered crowd,
It had hardly stopped when some immediately reached into the rear
And then bundles in blankets, lots of them
For all of us!
Saw a turquoise blue one this time
Very artsy with embroidery
Wondering if mine was wrapped in it
Took steps towards the truck 
And the guy standing in the rear was hollering
To come quickly as if he was distributing free food or some boon
Feet seemed stuck to the ground as if tied to ball and chain
But had to get there, someone was waiting
If to find solace in the craziest of things
It was the blue one after all
And in it was folded something else too, an answer 
A whole life of prayer and obedience
And one day
You’ll be made to receive the body of your child
From the back of a rusty pickup truck
Wrapped in a turquoise embroidered blanket 

[Last year in August, a bus carrying school children in Yemen was hit by a missile mistaking them for rebels. This poem is about its aftermath.] 
Image result for dead babies in blankets paintings--Saul Martinez





Ian Fletcher writes


Reckoning

Remember once when it was
as if you possessed angel’s wings
and could fly, fly to anywhere
to worlds real, worlds imagined
such was the buoyancy of youth
with time’s unlimited currency?

Yet now comes the reckoning
so find a temple and prostrate
yourself and pray, pray to any
god that will heed your pleas
as that final destination is nigh
for all those that live must die.
Image result for dreams of wings paintings
Icarus. The wings of dreams -- Stas Sugint

Benny Billet writes


Look at one STAR
to conquer TIME
Feel the infinite infinite
of infinity
Realize

No Matter how far Away
We are all in the same moment
the same time
Even though what we see
is actually what we saw
Eons Ago.

Time is a Mobius Strip?
The outside is the inside
Both sides the same side
We can't figure it out.

The present side is the past side
Both times are the same time
We can't figure it out.

The present side is the past side
Both times are the same time
We can't figure it out.

Future Side Inside Our Brain-side
We see side present side
Will be instant Now-Side
inside our eye-side
Becoming the blind side
of the past side
Remembered in our past side.
People walking on mobius strip
People walking on mobius strip -- Todd Davidson