This was placed on my Facebook wall, courtesy of a Mary Washington College Alumnus. Why did he select ME for this?
I am occasionally surprised at the weird or dark material that people send me with messages like, “Only you would get this,” “Seems like your thing,” or, the grandest caveat of all, “I can’t put this on my wall — maybe you can put it on yours.”
I’m just not sure what that says about how I am perceived by others.
There is no such thing as the State
And no one exists alone;
Hunger allows no choice
To the citizen or the police;
We must love one another or die.
Defenceless under the night
Our world in stupor lies;
Yet, dotted everywhere,
Ironic points of light
Flash out wherever the Just
Exchange their messages:
May I, composed like them
Of Eros and of dust,
Beleaguered by the same
Negation and despair,
Show an affirming flame.
— excerpt from W.H. Auden’s “September 1, 1939”
“The Binch,” by Rob Suggs
Every U down in Uville liked the U.S. a lot,
But the Binch, who lived Far East of Uville, did not.
The Binch hated U.S! The whole U.S. way!
Now don’t ask me why, for nobody can say,
It could be his turban was screwed on too tight.
Or the sun from the desert had beaten too bright
But I think that the most likely reason of all
May have been that his heart was two sizes too small.
But, Whatever the reason, his heart or his turban,
He stood facing Uville, the part that was urban.
“They’re doing their business,” he snarled from his perch.
“They’re raising their families! They’re going to church!
They’re leading the world, and their empire is thriving,
I MUST keep the S’s and U’s from surviving!”
Tomorrow, he knew, all the U’s and the S’s,
Would put on their pants and their shirts and their dresses,
They’d go to their offices, playgrounds and schools,
And abide by their U and S values and rules.
And then they’d do something he liked least of all,
Every U down in Uville, the tall and the small,
Would stand all united, each U and each S,
And they’d sing Uville’s anthem, “God bless us! God bless!”
All around their Twin Towers of Uville, they’d stand,
and their voices would drown every sound in the land.
“I must stop that singing,” Binch said with a smirk,
And he had an idea–an idea that might work!
The Binch stole some U airplanes in U morning hours,
And crashed them right into the Uville Twin Towers.
“They’ll wake to disaster!” he snickered, so sour,
“And how can they sing when they can’t find a tower?”
The Binch cocked his ear as they woke from their sleeping,
All set to enjoy their U-wailing and weeping,
Instead he heard something that started quite low,
And it built up quite slow, but it started to grow —
And the Binch heard the most unpredictable thing . . .
And he couldn’t believe it–they started to sing!
He stared down at U-ville, not trusting his eyes,
What he saw was a shocking, disgusting surprise!
Every U down in U-ville, the tall and the small,
Was singing! Without any towers at all!
He HADN’T stopped U-Ville from singing! It sung!
For down deep in the hearts of the old and the young,
Those Twin Towers were standing, called Hope and called Pride,
And you can’t smash the towers we hold deep inside.
So we circle the sites where our heroes did fall,
With a hand in each hand of the tall and the small,
And we mourn for our losses while knowing we’ll cope,
For we still have inside that U-Pride and U-Hope.
For America means a bit more than tall towers,
It means more than wealth or political powers,
It’s more than our enemies ever could guess,
So may God bless America! Bless us! God bless!
It was an ordinary train ride
You, me, Leita, and Dan
We didn’t mean to get separated.
We didn’t mean anything
in those days. We were
in college. It seemed
like we were rebels. Our parents
ate cabbage; our parents. Gosh,
we thought, what happened to them?
We simply got on a train. We didn’t
tell them. We were skipping school,
old enough to be our own.
I have to tell them, you loved me.
Dan loved Leita. I loved you.
We all kind of loved.
It was supposed to be
a simple day in New York.
It was supposed to be
A simple day in New York.
You don’t want me to bring
our life after this back
to this. Moment. There
is nothing like an almost.
In the aftermath, when the train
stopped, when no one was
ever the same again; i mean
the conductor said – Do…
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This is the major professional and commercial area of Ballston, an affluent section of Arlington, Virginia. These were taken near the Virginia Square Metro Station; just north of George Mason University. (Do college students eat frequently at these upscale cages and gourmet delis? When I was going to school in Fredericksburg, we splurged when we went to Olive Garden after a formal.)
Also just a few blocks away is the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency (DARPA).
“The Dream Seller.”
If you’re in the mood for some excellent apocalyptic or dystopian reading, then do remember to stop over at The Bees Are Dead. We recently have been fortunate for the opportunity to share dark visions from poets throughout the world, including Edilson A. Ferreira, Jason Ramsey, Jonathan May, Jonel Abellanosa, Andres Rodriguez, Marianne Szlyk, Stela Xega and Scott Thomas Outlar.
I myself am especially partial to May’s outstanding poem, “The Wolves;” its imagery is both nightmarishly vivid and expertly rendered. You can find it right here:
And be sure to peruse the poetry, short stories and photography by all of our contributors.
Eric Robert Nolan, Author 