Middle Class Poets

A tolerant democracy 
allows self-full, bloated poets 
to hide in a university 
sneering at the workings of the world,
secure in the protective cloak of tenure.
Once poets' voices raised the call 
for freedom, other great causes.
Now most wallow in comforts 
mumbling impotent objections 
to current events 
beyond their comprehension.

- Gary Beck

Tennis-playing, ditch-digging, salvage-diving writer with a penchant for poetry. Explore his impressive repetoire of poems, short stories, novels, plays, and other musings at garycbeck.com

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The Window to Our Souls

Davey by Shannon Lee

Eyes. Four letters. One meaning. The windows to our souls. Help us detect an unnoticed  lie and an obvious truth. Let us see light against dark. An advantage and a burden. One body part. Liberates right from wrong. Keeps us in place but can help us fall in depth. Controls our thinking and lets us escape reality. Eyes closed. Have our imaginations take over and leave the world behind. Another world. Eyes wide open. Lets us find out who we are. Why we choose to be the person we are today. A scary thought. A miracle. Eyes.

- Reza Moreno

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Lacus Mortis

Death smiles upon the barren and the lost, 

Death pries on the souls of the hopeless. 

Death waits upon those who appreciate, 

Who realise the truth of fate. 

With grief, walk the souls, 

With anguish, they swim, 

Across the Lake of the Death 

They burn, within. 

Above, there lies, 

The sea of cold, 

Where even the most lustrous hearts 

Fail to glow. 

Below the flowing basaltic lava 

Below the wails of the dead 

is a place like none other 

is the place for those who dread 

The Truth, the Reality : Death!

-Asma Sohail

Aspiring Neurologist. Book Freak, Cat Lover.

PS- Lacus Mortis refers to "the lake of death, one of the many 'lakes' found on the moon", says Asma.

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