Decoration Day

Touch the Sky  — Photographer Rachel Baran

 

Decoration Day
10 Words Only


What’s done is done. Therein lies the rub, the truth.

 

“Only the dead have seen the end of war.”
― Plato

Leonard Cohen recites “In Flanders Fields by John McCrae.   Blank

 

In Flanders Fields
by John McCrae

In Flanders fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row,
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

 

Ether

Playing With Fire — Photography by Eleanor

 

Ether


Lit my last cigarette
With a match
That could never be
Struck again.
I stood as black carbon
Final indifference —
Kerosene and gasoline;
Fanning the flames
Hiding high crimes
All the while
Whitewashing ugly pretty.

Now Mesmerized:
Once paralyzed
I had memorized
Sermons from the book,
“Unwritten Rules”.
Blank be the pages
From whence they came;
Ink knows no shade
Shame never names names
Silent, stands forever.

Hindsight realized:
Rulers lie.
Never wake
Holders of landmines;

Best they go off
In their sleep.
Lithium chloride
Fueled the carmine fire;
Char licked misery
A scorched mystery;
North winds flared
Caring innocence
Far away.

 

“There may be a great fire in our soul, yet no one ever comes to warm himself at it, and the passers-by see only a wisp of smoke.”      Dream
― Vincent van Gogh     Saga

 Hozier — “Arsonist’s Lullabye”

SCARLET

Photographer Kristamas Klousch

 

SCARLET


Just be — Broken heart
Yet so loud, blind like fury
Scorned and foul tempered
Cloaked by the blackest of light
Only stillness stops the beat

Each cell’s potential
Conductivity repels
Bleeding black and blue
Clutching bouquets of cacti
Longing for a scarlet rose

 

“Nobody dies a virgin… Life fucks us all.”
― Kurt Cobain
      Healthy

Paloma Faith — “Just Be”

Torch Singer

Oubliettes  — Ellen Rogers

 

Torch Singer
10 Words Only


Give me a brilliant mind over a warm body anytime.

 

“Yes, my consuming desire is to mingle with road crews, sailors and soldiers, barroom regulars—to be a part of a scene, anonymous, listening, recording—all this is spoiled by the fact that I am a girl, a female always supposedly in danger of assault and battery. My consuming interest in men and their lives is often misconstrued as a desire to seduce them, or as an invitation to intimacy. Yes, God, I want to talk to everybody as deeply as I can. I want to be able to sleep in an open field, to travel west, to walk freely at night…”      Vision
― Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath

Lana Del Rey – “Burning Desire”

Enola Leaves

Photography by Ellen Rogers

 

Enola Leaves


At every turn, push away
Saving grace
Alleviating some pain;
A blessed yoyo wafer,
At every yank
Pull back again.
Things would be easier
If hate played its hand.
Stares that look secure,
Aren’t.
They’re made of sand;
Burying deep
Coveting — eternal sleep.

Lamenting zodiac’s sign
Making us stutter
Dare we, address it by name;
Ca-Ca-Ca-Cancer:
A rogue cell killing machine.
Checking obituaries piously
Horrors cope religiously
Every mourning captured in print:
Today’s your lucky day
Ink lies, as does the page.
The unwelcome prognosis
Stains — beguiled by sage.

In the mean time
Is a Mean Time.
Musical chairs play
The Staying Game,
To a familiar tune
The Crying Game,
With an overture
The Waiting Game.
We’re on the sign-up sheet
For the last dance;
Will we find redemption
When the fat lady sings?

 

Is there a state of being which is less painful than the perpetual state of breathing?      Chaos
— M. L. Lurie, The Lost Journals
      Sacrifice

Lana Del Rey — Born To Die”

Immaculate Voyeur

Photographer Rimel Neffati

 

Immaculate Voyeur


Stares pierce amber air
Looking for some sort of bright;
Glaring politeness
Waved past, all Hope’s drab is lost
Faded by direct sunlight

If the shade were pulled
Private would not be Public;
Look — Lewd’s clamoring
Always delighted to see
Naked indelicacies

 

“In order to know virtue, we must first acquaint ourselves with vice.”     Music
― Marquis de Sade    Scars

Meg Myers — “Desire”