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OFFERING TO MY FELLOW POETS
by Albert Russo


a scathing review
should not cast you in a trance
tho your blood cries out

are you stuck with words?
then string them around your neck
they will set you free

whatever they say
remember Kipling's advice
about self-control

a drop of honey
a taste of eternity
wrapped in syllables

thanks to the haiku
you can recreate the world
or leave not a trace

before man could speak
he knew poetry
by intuition

foreign relations
is the language one uses
when love has no place

like ships in the night
like clouds shredding in the blue
like your closing heart

the boat is sinking
but who thinks of the havoc
wrought in the ocean

travel to the stars
with your bag of memories
and earth's illusions

in desperation
let dreams carry you away
they'll color your pain


CREATIVE MOODS
A Haiku sequence
by Albert Russo


the act of writing
is like a plunge in the void
or a muffled sigh


when you’re inspired
it is smooth as a pebble
swept by clear water


a storm breaks out
in the middle of the sentence
and the world is ablur


the room reeks of death
the stench is unbearable
dried rust-colored ink


it’s been so long since
my fingers held a pen
they act arthritic


screen and computer
have replaced dad’s Underwood
I hear his heartbeats


too much idleness
numbs the imagination
wind of a glacier


LOST IDENTITY
by Albert Russo


tell me what to do
tell me where to go
am I losing my bearings?
why are you still by my side?
I don’t recognize you anymore
I can’t remember the good times
they seem to have dissolved
into a slipstream
give me your hand
I want to feel its pulse
I’m suddenly so cold inside
and terribly spare
because it is not you
I’ve become a stranger to
but myself


ECHOES OF THE FLESH
by Albert Russo


Do you hear that sound
the clicking in your entrails
like the distant rumble of war?
Picture the battles being waged
inside your body
the blood cells colliding
in the midst of a snow storm
Is it Napoleon’s troops
falling like pegs
at the gates of Moscow
or the last German battalions
being decimated
in the deadliest of a Russian winter?
The echo grows louder
until it fills every inch
of your bones
You try to move a leg
a gesture repeated
a million times by rote
but suddenly your limbs
refuse to obey
history has a way
of taking its revenge
some call it karma


THE WEIGHT OF THINGS
by Albert Russo


How much can one endure?
what amount of pain
can a person take
before s/he collapses?

see the little girl
whose heart broke
as she watched her ragdoll
fall into the lake

or the street urchin
who swore he would never
go back home after
the last beating
his drunken father gave him

remember the haggard looks
on those emaciated faces
behind the barbed wire
of a concentration camp

or Marilyn Monroe
shrieking in the middle 
of the desert, in The Misfits
when one of the men
began lassoing a mustang
with all his might

how much can one endure,
yes, how much?


LOVE TENUOUS
by Albert Russo


I hate to see myself
being hurt by his careless quips
and in turn having to retaliate
which I do, unwillingly
sorry, he moans, so sorry
I really didn’t mean it
you know how I blurt out things
I just can’t help myself sometimes
but you also know
how much you count for me
WITHOUT YOU I am NOTHING
those words make you bleed inside
bleed to the point of
becoming blind to his new pain,
self-inflicted, and well deserved, you insist
he then rests his hand
on your shoulder
but you push it violently aside
afraid that one more of his quips
will dampen your love forever


EMOTIONALLY TRASHED
by Albert Russo

he’s my brother
blood thicker than water
adolescent, he rebelled
against kith, kin and society
he embraced bohemia for a while
rebelled again
and closed shut like a clam
women and sex were now taboo
and I became his nemesis
to please my folks
I closed an eye
he aimed at the other eye
and we clashed like never
he lost all interest in life
and dedicated himself
to our beloved widowed mother
so I closed both eyes
but then my blood rebelled
he has been diagnosed
with prostate cancer
the news spilled over my face
like incandescent lava
and how he resents me!
Am I not guilty of his sickness?
blood like poisoned water

Imprint

Publication Date: 09-21-2011

All Rights Reserved

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