Last night I had the strangest dream.
It wasn’t the strangest dream I ever dreamed before
But it was strange for me:
I was in a large room with three friends
On the second floor of an old building
Facing main street.
I and my friends were using it as an ad hoc gym.
The four of us comprised a cadre.
We were all masters of a martial art
And this was where we
New poem by TCBH! resident poet Gary Lindorff: The Circle of what?
Circle up.
Hold hands.
Look around.
Look across.
Look at your feet.
Look at all the shoes.
Shoes with feet in them.
We make a good circle.
Circle of people.
Is life a circle?
Where is the circle of life?
Is there a bigger circle?
Why can’t I see it?
Is the Koala in it?
Is the house spider in it?…
For the rest of this new poem by GARY LINDORFF, poet in residence at ThisCantBeHappening!, the uncompromised, collectively owned, six-time Project Censored Award-winning online alternative news
New TCBH! poem by Gary Lindorff: ‘Leaving Rome’ (written in Ireland)
Let every crack be a place for seeds to sprout,
Let the forest return to this place!
Let the rocks be done wearing our face,
And may every fractured avenue lead out!
Rome is crumbling.
All of the magic
That will save us is outside of Rome.
Inside the empire
Everything is falling.
It’s a magic-vacuum
That has sucked us in for so long
That we began to believe that every road
Ultimately led nowhere!
If you are still in
New TCBH! poem: ‘Patriarchy — how it ends’
The kings,
They come in caravans to die
And they bring with them their servants.
And their jewels stay with them
When they are buried
One hundred years apart
In the back yard.
And their graves
Fall down
And are removed
For paving stones
And the road that the kings arrived on
Is called Kings Highway.
Now cars race along that way
Right off the edge
And are buried and so on.
And doesn’t this sound familiar?
The lights turn green;
They let the cars go,
And then they turn red as blood