Local Poetry Of The Mat-Su

Abaddon’s Locusts

Contributed by Robert Lyons

Techno emperor with raw palm power,
The end of my finger makes people cower,
Showering the masses with chemical bliss,
Social fission is risky business,
Deity since the end of TV,
Cryptic, apocalyptic keystrokes to make all believe,
Whatever I want I lie to achieve,
With a spread of my hand, gone your identity,
Fountains of fibs, you covet these goods,
I put in your head different attitudes,
Malignant web of information thank you,
While ruining these nations give me patience,
To finish this deed even though its purpose,
Is greed, a self-righteous parasitic need,
Good is not what this is all about, hah!
When my tendrils spread doubt all about,
Created to funnel resource and knowledge, 
To the top of a pyramid, below the whole world crawling,
Download now and agree to my terms,
A viral infection somewhat like a germ,
When the fusion is done you are the device,
I am the programmer, your my toy my delight,
The leap from machine to mankind's mind is done,
This app has made humans just drones,
Just in time, my marble is worn,
Why the programmer deserves only the best,
My gardens need to be vibrant and fresh
Now I can build that wing on my home,
My palatial estate in the style of Rome,
These deeds must be done right away!
And that thing with the people,
 Do that today...

A Madrigal For Spring

Contributed by Nan Potts

(Madrigal — A lyric poem suitable to be set to music, fashionable in the 17th and 18th centuries.)

‘Tis time for merry making,
One’s reverence forsaking.

The springtime we’re bemusing,
Our hearts’ delight confusing.
La, tra-la-la-la.

If true love you are seeking,
Your secret not be speaking.
(First chorus)

When meet a virile laddie
Not time to tell your daddy!
(Second chorus)

The birds rejoice with fervor,
Their voices ring in favor.
(First chorus)

Bees too, respond in ardor,
Assembling their larder.
(Second chorus)

This month of May, rejoicing,
Nine months from now, thee voicing —
(First chorus)

New life in all its splendor,
Doth proved of sweet surrender.
(Second chorus, finis).

The Art An’ The Artist

Contributed by Charles Dean Walker

I know somewhere an' artist resides.
An' though he writes.
He rarely speaks.
For what would the others think?
Those of today, try to define.
Yet, it's the artist that's the most defined.
Those that scatter to watch or read.
They say what the poet wrote.
They say as if they know for certain, that it I prosecutor who knows them more.
It's I that tells you who you are.

Silly fool, the artist knows who or what they are.
It's them that defines themselves.
You can only speculate.
You can only theorize.
Yet, if you let what is be.
Then you'll truly know the artist.

Simply separate the art an' artist, then you know two things.
First is the inspiration of the art.
Second who the person is in heart.


Contributed by Robert Lyons

Pretty petals lapping up towards the sun, sapping power,
Swelling with moist light, ferocious red brightness speckled with dew, 
Hoisted from the bush with hope and luck for you,
Prismed reflections of green on the scene, a love clean,
This living thing cannot be consigned to a trove, our lives betrothed,
Intertwined like the vine providing the wine colored petal inspiring these lines,
Our love is divine, the dew rolls, the cup dries as days go by,
But the beauty of the decline is proof, a sign of our never ending bond in time,
So as that petal withers to brown, the edges crumble, the stem droops down,
Be reminded of our love we chose, it lives eternally,
Like that withering rose.

Dirty Kings

Contributed by Elicia Wendling

It’s the end of a raw, dirty day.
We've washed and eaten; now back in dirt we lay.
I have a great, big, blue sky from my head to my feet.
My mind turns to home and your face, so sweet.

I think of how pleasant it will be to fief
In a kingdom where I am the king.
I remember the nights of whispers and sighs.
You wore the crown of my heart, my queen.

Now I'm out on the trail to labor again,
So we can have a house on the hill.
I gladly become a slave, my friend,
For a kingdom where I am the king.

It’s a three-dog night in this cold, dark damp.
Yet only two dogs there are to be had.
I tolerate it all in the promise of
The kingdom where I am the king.

The stars are my thoughts, each shining for you,
Illuminating my determination.
A day will soon come, my queen, my love,
We will rule together over that land
Where I am king, and you wear the crown of my heart.

Today, A Great Day

Contributed by Greg Dixon

Today is a great day,
Before another great day, 
Before another great day, 
Before another - 
Great day,