ANCIENT HISTORY – Gonzalinho da Costa

ANCIENT HISTORY

The Egyptians invented toothpaste, consisting of ashes, burnt eggshells, and ground ox hoofs. At the time the most popular brand was Toothankhamun.

The Sumerians originated the cuneiform system of writing. When asked why they didn’t use sheepskin or papyrus, or chisel hieroglyphs into limestone or sandstone, they said that pressing a stylus was the best way to make a point.

The Book of Exodus tells us that Moses was so enraged when he beheld the golden idol of the Israelites that he burned it in fire, ground it into powder, mixed it with water, and forced the people to drink it, which caused asthma attacks all around. This incident is remembered today by Jews as “The Golden Cough.”

The Assyrians are notable in history for building a great empire, but if you look closely at their images in bas-relief, their real legacy to humanity are their hair curlers.

According to archaeologists, the legendary Tower of Babel is located in the city of Babylon. In the legend the people who built the Tower of Babel couldn’t understand each other, and no, the Babylonians didn’t invent politics.

The Persians loved honesty, and they loved wine because drinking it made the drinker tell the truth, but it didn’t work if they were snoring.

The Chinese invented chopsticks when they discovered it was easier to pick up pork spare ribs with two sticks than to stab it with one.

Confucius is considered the greatest sage of traditional China. When he purportedly said, “It does not matter how slowly you go as long as you do not stop,” he was not talking about breakfast.

Hinduism, the oldest religion in the world, developed in India. Hindus believe that all religions that cultivate a virtuous life lead to the Ultimate Reality or what some call God, so Hindus have no beef with most other religions.

Buddha discovered that suffering is caused not by desire but rather by sitting down for long periods of time under a Bodhi tree, in his case for nearly two months. Once he decided to stop sitting around and do something constructive, he came to be known as the Enlightened One.

Greek physicians would diagnose their patients by tasting their ear wax. Needless to say, medical school enrollments jumped after this practice was discontinued.

Reportedly, Plato believed in reincarnation. He recollected that in his past life he had been a dog, and when asked what it was like, he said, “Rough, rough.”

Aristotle said that the purpose of watching a Greek tragedy is katharsis or purgation of emotions, resulting in cleansing and renewal. Reason the audience suffered emotional distress was because they had to endure hard stone seats and popcorn was never served.

The Romans who used public toilets to relieve themselves would clean up by passing around a shared sponge mounted on a stick and rinsed with salt water. Tourists, learning of this practice, didn’t as the Romans do.

Paul the Apostle was not very successful evangelizing the Persians. They read his letters and said, “It sounds like Greek to me.”

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IN THE DARK – SPIKE CARR

IN THE DARK

In a moment there’s the buzzing of my phone.
The screen lights up. I can see my tear-spotted cheeks and grass-high eyes lit up against the wall.
His name is glowing on the screen.
Not a thought runs through my rattled mind before I grab the device.
“What does he want?”
I snarl to no one. My hands are shaking. My head suddenly hurts. My eyes are tired.
It’s like my heart drops when what he says becomes clear through the tears.
‘I miss you.’
I could feel my heart snap.
My body trembles and a sob I can’t control echoes from my larynx.
The tears now burn.
Barely anything conscious forms when I start typing.
It’s all gibberish.
So many times I go back and retype the message.
‘Get lost.’
‘Go away.’
‘I don’t care.’
‘That’s your own fault.’
Go away, go away, go away.
I want him to leave, so this pain will stop.
So these tears will stop.
So everything falls back to normal.
I so badly want him back.
But my hands are moving on their own now.
‘You shouldn’t have left if you miss me. I don’t miss you.’

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COLEMAN HAWKINS – JOHN DOYLE

Coleman Hawkins

1:33 a.m. Tuesday night;

playing on my cable T.V.

it’s like we were destined to be entwined,

Coleman and me,

so basically, nothing ever happened in-between –

no J.F.K. boning half of Jersey

to get his mind off Bays with Pigs in them,

no Flock of Seagulls or gas shortages

for Austin Powers to mull upon,

just Coleman Hawkins finding his way to me –

commercial break,

first fade to black,

1:38am.

I’ve grabbed my spacesuit and enthusiastically attach it,

there is much for Coleman and I to catch up on when he returns

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FALLING ASLEEP – DS Maolalai

Falling asleep.

love;

lethal as any fire. burning

quietly to smolder

and the flashpoint

which happens when, feeling safe,

you open something up. then

explosions. kids

screaming somewhere. people outside. property

gone. handfuls of ash

clasped afterwards

in a display of some sort

of significance. collapsed up lungs

from falling asleep

too relaxed with a cigarette.

or lighting a candle, even. they’re deadly,

too. electric wires – a slight sign

of comfort.

a spark

which lights fires

and kills her

and kills you

and kills you

and goes out.

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4 POEMS – DAVE SLAGLE

Forecast

Another rain prediction
while the alfalfa turns blue.
Hurricane moving toward Baja.
Fronts shifting.

I found more photos
showing what I missed.
But none of divorces
or the miscarriage
or the two bouts with lymphoma.
Just beautiful Marianna
with her smile owning
the light and everyone.

Albums arrayed as they were.
My worries now
from the future,
while I feel the tug
of an anchor’s rope.

Cardboard Box

I’m careful with the sides,
coming unglued,
and the warped shape,
water damaged and
no longer perfect.

It holds the twigs
that start my late fire
to which I add bigger wood
keeping the box well away
as flames absorb grief
venting into summer.

If only these feelings would
recycle back to those evenings
when we were teens in Tucson
smoking and talking
on the edge of change.

It was a time like this box,
in need of care.
And I left it out
in August rain.
Wet cardboard
never again smooth and virgin.

Shop Tree

A weather measure
comes from clouds
behind the big shop tree.
Where are they going?
Are they fast or heavy?

One has to stare
because today they are slow
and not going
yesterday’s way.
A soft mantras

calming and true.
Keep looking,
be patient,
and from distraction,
their new form

will carry you
into the future
the sweetness here now
the surprises
you’ll never guess.

Meteors

Would this meteor shower
make me cry?
Because it will be so beautiful
and really far away.

Finding some kleenex
in Marianna’s purse,
breathing in the closeness.
And remembering through decades

to a time, on my bicycle
riding home
after Marianna
and more than i deserved,
stunned by a celestial
streak that wouldn’t end.

Amazement light years away.
My bicycle noisy in desert dirt.
Elevating my heart
to an unfortunate level
I’d never forget.

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KEEPING MY APPOINTMENT… – Deborah L. Wymbs

KEEPING MY APPOINTMENT WITH MY ATTORNEY ON A GORGEOUS DAY

School is in session,
Time for another life lesson on the living of life:
Small trees bend from the pressures of an invisible partner,
The wind takes the lead during an unrehearsed tango—
A day of bouquet beauty.

Two young men skate board warriors with tattoo armor
Scroll down the steep asphalt city hill.

I look to the pastel blue sky.
Am I looking at it or looking through it?
Its beauty is my bookmark.

I chose my attorney by the appearance of his desk,
The picture story relief, an atlas of events carved into wood,
Tree rings of life beneath layers of dark stained beginnings.

When will this fiasco end? I ask
And the answer he knew I wanted to hear,
Soon, with hopefully attached loosely.

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3 POEMS – SIMON PERCHIK

*

Even the night was made from wood

has sheets, a gown, the kind

brides wear only once

though you pace in front the bed

the way mathematicians mull over chalk

scraping it against something black

that could be pulling the room apart

with the faint sound from dust

coming by for what’s left

and the corners –vaguely you can hear

her lips breathing into yours

setting on fire the stars

that would sweeten your mouth

with the never ending hum

emptied from wells and springs

for smoke, no longer knows how to talk

how to glow when side by side

as planks and weeds and this pillow.

*

And though this door is locked

it leans into the evenings

that hollowed out the place

for its marble and grass

where you still hide, afraid

make the dead go first

–they already know what to do

when the corners are no longer enough

and with your finger become

the sudden breeze filled with moonlight

and distances opening the sea

holding it over the fires –pilings

are useless here, these great walls

cringe from the cries rain gives off

where a morning used to be

and you are following it alone

as if there was a light in the window

waiting for you to come by.

*

This fish is still gathering the smoke

left over from when the sea went back

to face some crackling beach grass

–side by side you too are warmed

by salt and standing naked

you can see a woman is striking a match

though when you are dead

the glaze on this dinner plate

will afterward heat your eyes

–they will never close, this fish

is looking for tears to fit in its mouth

tell you eat! bite into its eyes

though nothing will cool or be at home

where you keep the ashes warm

by collecting the bones and sand.

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