Poetry Corner: “Too many apples and grapes later”

Too many apples and grapes later

A gasp
thunderous deafening roar
burning acrid gas
hot molten lava
slides down the precipice

A sigh like the spring wind
and the disaster is sucked down into the bowels of the earth
only
the warm human smell remains

Robert K. Stephen

Poetry Corner: Mama Bravo strikes again or how not to love Boeing Super Max!


Mama Bravo strikes again or how not to love Boeing Super Max

Laughing gaily they take their seats
out of the hostile freeze into the cheap tequila and sun of Mexico
the plane hurtles down the runway
passengers waiting for those free holiday cocktails
BUT
LURCH
snap, crackle and pop
like steel rice Krispies

No time for screams
What’s left of the bodies
lies steaming on the runway and looks like Mama Bravo’s dropped from the Empire State Building
on a cold winter’s day

Robert K. Stephen

Poetry Corner: “Dedication to a bus driver that will never know”

A dedication to a bus driver that will never know

blank paper makes as much sense
as the music of turnstiles
constant inflow and outflow
eddies of confusion
fail to distract the frustration
and the odious comfort of mesmerized pacing
brings little solace
as
insanity clasps the narrow ledge
of its opposite sister
masses of flesh ooze their way
to compartmentalized hopelessness
a man makes love to his whisky bottle
amidst the red eyed concert crowd who mumble by the greedy chocolate smeared faces of wretches
who annoy mimic telescreened adventures

Eros remains helpless
joylessly suffocating
while Thanatos
gleefully offers an exit
and
frustrated young poets
sit in buses
unable to meet the 5 Year Plan of literature
futilely attempting to explain all

Robert K. Stephen