January Newsletter

Page 1

Volume 1, Issue 1

January, 2018

K Late Night Poets K V allpoetry.com V Keith first called into the LNP Radio shows in August 2016 and feels it is a great group of poets, all trying to improve their craft and supporting one another. He feels he has learned and He has been a regular in grown quite a lot since joining in and particithe Late Night Poets pating in the shows chat since August 2016 Silk has been published and feels that the LNP in two Allpoetry anpoets are a supportive thologies Grey family. Dawn and Rewrite Silk says his most valuable experience in LNP Sunlight has been getting exposed to new forms of He’s not actively seekpoetry and the veteran ing publication at this poets who help him to time but is open to the idea. Full Spotlight... push his boundaries

Spotlight Poet

hood in Ohio and Texas. Silk completed High School, and also took some computer courses after his graduation. Keith was drawn to music lyrics, stories and he says “poetry is magical”

Silk Blackrose I N S I D E T H I S I S S U E :

Spotlight Poet


Gill Blaze




Famous Poets


From Down Under


Newsletter Info


Given Name: Keith Age: 34 Occupation: Trucker We know Keith as Silk Blackrose on Allpoetry He was born in New Mexico & spent the majority of his child-


Welcome To The LNP Newsletter


The LNP Newsletter is

enjoy what we share.

change from month to

just a way to touch

I would like to invite

month in an attempt

base on some of the

ideas from our group

to keep it interesting

Late Night Poets

members such as fea-

for all. Please feel free

Group happenings …

tures or recognitions.

to contact me with

I hope everyone will

Topics here may



Volume 1, Issue 1

Dancing Symphonies Through her Sonata's By: Silk Blackrose laying in this sarcophagus, shrouded in shadows my hand's wave. I'm the conductor of broken whispers and psychotic voices ringing like an orchestra


leaving her shattered like pieces of china she grew claws, weaved her shards into daggers, eyes cut like diamonds and I marveled at the monster, I had created



tempted ivory skin with delicious drips of sin as I fell upon her like a storm

lips parted, a thirsty sigh sipped, savored, softly collide pon moonlit sheets “Whatever satisfies amidst scents so sweet the soul is truth.” we melted into bliss's satin glide

― Walt Whitman

Oubliette new moon's tide

By: Silk Blackrose eyes closed tightly, absorbing their secrets Night spilled fire while I dance symphosoaked into my blood nies coursing heat through her sonatas through passions beat she lay wild as new her blood tasted so moons tide sweet upon my lips I fell to knees, as I gazed crawled upon her upon her pirouetting, shores my little doll, her body, my feast swaying in the her taste roused my moonlight beast upon her, desire, like It was a shame to moon fire poured break her, I did so as gently as fingertips traced lovers lay memories upon satin sheets scorching winds

By: SIlk Blackrose why do you spin such glorious webs in the requiem of my madness

January, 2018

is it the way silver moon sways the flow of my poet's hand brushing your galaxies across the void of a page or is it the way my darkness tastes on the tip of your velvet tongue that holds thy fancy? Lady, thy waltz beneath my blackened shroud inflames a beating as of symphonies, singing arias and dirges, crashing in a riot of cacophony parting silence's veil to pour your blood into my inkwell

where all light while my fingers caress has faded from stars the song of your voice that died millennia ago across the aged parchment till, at last, my demons be it thee are woven of weep stardust by some forgotten gods palm? now fallen from grace whispering in the ears of wretched mortals? "Be curious, not


why dost though torment me as if every line were a lock and a word, the key to set my spirit free 2

judgmental." ― Walt Whitman


Volume 1, Issue 1

January, 2018

J D B m P S t

J D B m P S t By: Laurent yvan

Under that persona was a wild child...full of grace

June 17, 1962 - December 21, First job interview after 2017 Nursing School graduaA remembrance tion you were told "Too small- we can't hire you" When you were only 3 or 4 Grandad phoned another they let you out to play by hospital where he knew yourself with your jump someone... rope The response was swift Your older brother was "Can the midget come being bullied down for an interview?" and you wrapped that rope Larger than life, even around the bully and told then him "leave my brother alone!" When you first started then dragged him around a you were working at Oldbit ham hospital in Tam-side to make a point then as a threat nurse at Feisty even then St Mary’s in Manchester where your daughter At 8 you stuck your head Beth was born through You were active in prothe bars of the school tests fence working rights for nurses and got stuck you were always putting they called the fire brigade other people to free you first, making sure everyGrandad on the way home one else was sorted bewondered at fore looking to yourself the fuss. Grandma shouted: Caring, even then... and "it's our Gill, always stuck in the railing" 33 years in scrubs and Determined even then uniforms, caring for us all

.16 years at AllPoetry, where we grew to love you and your writing. 2000 poems and morewhat a legacy!

Club hopping, dancing to Northern Soul music, getting up to mischief... I can remember you saying: Painting and writing, the "I have spoken to death soul of an artist/poet, a asked questions Mancunian soul, through learnt to live past the and through colour of it" Rick was your man for 22 You were prepared but years we weren't a "mop and bucket pair". not sure Death is eiAt just 5' or a little less, ther...I imagine you're you liked your men well twisting his tail even over 6' tall, now big mops for the little bucket… "Well i get my sharp Beth your daughter; tongue from my Phoebe, beloved "Phe" gran ..my grit from my your grandchild. You had dad ...and my right hook a special bond with her from my mum" and she loved her Ma Mar You will be missed by all You would always say "It's a grandma's job to treat and say yes." You gave your wonderful “We were together. laugh to Beth and your I forget the rest.” love to family and friends...and then to the ― Walt Whitman rest of the world 3

Volume 1, Issue 1

in order to write she wears orion's belt By: Gill Blaze departing her body has always been an easy task when she needs to timetravel through the night-time's gaze in wonderment, she climbs onto orion's belt believing all she sees seeking her way home heading towards the east her goddess diana joins her with lilith riding high on thin air and adrenaline, every geminid trail leading the pathway to his symbiotic call zeus could turn off every star every elemental being bruised and blacked-out, even the horizon could rise and fall if the skies turned inside out shrouding themselves from brightlight, birthright she would still find him her north star

And your very flesh shall be a great poem. ― Walt Whitman

January, 2018

eyes that see too in order to write- she says goodbye, gilly little

all stood, another ovation oooo.

By: Laurent yvan

By: Andi

my face is to the stone wall of your life


ten fingertips disrobe your poetry

i studied your poem there is always food and life,

uncover verses, songs burning,

I am vanished into the small holes that dot its surface whipped and swirled into fractal reality

stumbled, balancing similar with unapparent

multiple universes of sorrow flash past these somber eyes too startled to see more than glimpses of your past privy only to small fractions of your life

my breath adrift on a breeze, spasms sinks

there is little else to recount that matters

scans the dusky sky

brick and mortar seem weak unable to hold more than slight memories that weep hinting at a larger life

searching youseeking zeus


he read your poem you know,

hunting forests at dawn for a sign

took you literally, shut down every star

are you reborn do you inhabit the animate or are you petal-enveloped greeting sunrises bidding sunsets adieu

left elemental beings bruised and blacked out disconnected horizons

as you sparkle across northern skies with a nighttime signature that greets me in the darkening and

ooo. my palm crushes the epilogue written


before your poetry pliéd center stage


and feather them parchment eternal oooo, it was you tipping eve and lilith’s scale laughter of love, laughter of life, laughter of shit that came between now eclipsed, no sun ooooo. in grief comes soft sounds clouds on this blue night whisper, remember Gill not for sadness but joy not for loss but love it is why she smoked such lovely songs

Volume 1, Issue 1

in order to write you can't close the door once abstract has bolted By: Gill Blaze after andi the music of words connecting into my inner ear resonated like a brass band walking down the street abstract: define how; who; and where who said it to be true why is it the truth science says, we put a man on the moon (if so, why haven't we done it since) is that abstract? who fucking cares!

January, 2018


again life goes on must be human cook dinner walk the dog me - take my pills maybe write for her lay my bones down floss the cat (don't have a cat)

- she's two coupons short of a toaster, that one ! chortle; chuckle then raucous endangered species of woman, bonding fucking hell, why do people do that they have a choice it hurts, it all hurts sighs; sighing more breaths i could inhale her completely into my mortal coil

maybe next time we'll talk about men now that will be bloody hilarious For andi x

i hope i don't slip into that black dog walking alone shit; with demetia riding my arse like a greyhound chasing the hare

i care about love family, trust people who walk in put the kettle on in my poetic kitchen and do the 'joan rivers' on me - let's just talk

talking of going mad, did you know that so 'n' so is quite insane 'off their bloody trolley'

breathe breathe breaths and then enun

the dogs are barking

explanationscrazy is, as crazy does


T “Keep your face always toward the sunshine - and shadows will fall behind you.” ― Walt Whitman


in order to write - a chair of neruda's choosing By: Gill Blaze

pablo would talk of love being like a highbacked leather chesterfield, with winged shoulders, wide .. she drapes herself across the patina of his skin folding flush to his body becoming one with him she flicks on the table lamp thrums the thick pages of their favourite poetry palming words to his lips languid light casting shadows where they sit nearness reading to him, naked nursed by his arms comfort comes wrapped in leatherbound words

Volume 1, Issue 1

my river flows onto you By: Laurent yvan & Gill Blaze

January, 2018

to be severed.

in order to write he wanted to flirt, she wanted to cook

never... I utter my last words I love you then we die..die and I am re-born unto that twine you have wrapped around my hand...

By: Gill Blaze

they laughed: on her saying that he is almost, completely their bacon incorrigible wasn't bacon! rascal-like he continued -not reet! she said throughout their morning and why oh why conversation, to give chicken and waffles cheek they meet in the midlike a school boy would dle a playful tap on the she often wonders what bum she might find a ruffle of hair in his pockets; a piece of warmth from a string, a lighter strong sweatered a frog or two, post-its for man this 'n' that gentle reminders he likes to flirt playing clips and moments she cooks she has sent

desire leads to lust le désir de faire l'amour with rock hard flesh as ...wrapped for eons soft until the universe as lambs wool dies in the grand mort as implacable as the and swirls us together in spine of the earth the final breath from which I pluck you of existence in wild abandon with gentle hands of steel that brook no obstacle. my river flows onto you through you I am a young salmon flying high in the streams of your conscious I will swim until my body aches till my lungs explode till nothing i say or hear makes any sense if I am about to die then let me die with this petit mort I expire onto you feeling you die I succumb to the unconscious as well spilling into you my life my love the throbbing ecstasy of hallowed flesh



“The ecstasy is so short but the forgetting is so long.” -Walt Whitman

on giving him some of her


favourite recipes songs or sketches from life she writes on the blackboard “ In the of his chest confusion we softer words to save till stay with each later when re-awakens to the other, happy to sound be together, of instant childlike chatter speaking withand the magpies are playout uttering a fighting single word.” with the blackbirds


-Walt Whitman


Volume 1, Issue 1

cig and a cuppa By: Laurent yvan the phone always rang with

January, 2018

awakening each to be greeted by your little laugh and a witty poke you kept that phone

that unique English warble tucked Hello? under your chin and took You always knew me everywhere you went who was calling talking to me and you laughed as talking to them you I was included sipped your coffee and we laughed at life's noisily foibles for my benefit and scorned the fools you knew that who run the world 2:30am was when Phe was dressed too early for mine and and you loved to off to school our second tease me hour began and puff on that first again with a fag as you cigarette called them with a long ahhhh and that second cup of coffee mornings bustling about your my nights middle kitchen a long dance used to shine fixing breakfast with such a bright light for your grand daughand is now so damn ter Phoebe bloody dark again Phe whose laughter sparkled however in the background always so joyous We will dance again one laughing with her ma day mar and our laughter will love evident in each sparkle note about the same fools little by little the running the same world morning we are no longer part of passed your family

in order to write there are incidental conversations, pockets and Humanity

greyblue Manchester skies, shining above he nurses her, tells her to rest.... coppered verbs tangle their hands withered knuckles gnarl

By: Gill Blaze

yet hold on, for life....

incidentals: human: random conversations interests lie down from both of her parents next to wash-day dirges now in their 80's the dreaded picking-up of their agile minds dog shit a little slower then inevitable laughter to conform catalysts shooting as winnie the staffie from all angles head-butts the front door nobody is right to devour the postman well, only her mum! daily grinds you know how a look, even in your 50's from an eagle-eyed warrior woman whose spear is now a walking stick but her tongue can still lash you with a tsk tsk or tut tut pockets: she climbs into his, a safe harbour from tiresome thoughts. and an aching body arthritic fingers spasm underneath the cold 7

grasping words caught on the wire half across the world spoken soft a low bear growl

“The truth is simple. If it was complicated, everyone would understand it.� -Walt Whitman

Volume 1, Issue 1



By: Deborahlee The National Kidney Foundation is an organization dedicated to awareness, prevention and treatment of kidney disease.


January, 2018

What are the symptoms? You may be surprised at some of them and some people may not have ANY severe symptoms until their kidney disease is advanced. However, you may notice that you: feel more tired and have less energy have trouble concentrating a poor appetite trouble sleeping muscle cramping at night swollen feet and ankles puffiness around your eyes, especially in the morning dry, itchy skin or need to urinate more often, especially at night.

Simple tests can detect CKD... talk to your doctor if you have symptoms of Chronic Kidney Disease. MILLIONS of people have Chronic Kidney Disease (CKD) also known as chronic renal disease, and millions of others are at increased risk. CKD includes conditions that damage the kidneys and decrease their ability to do their job. The condition is characterized by a gradual loss of kidney function causing the need for dialysis.

Early detection can help prevent progression into kidney failure. Once progressed, it may eventually lead to kidney failure, which requires dialysis or a kidney transplant to maintain life. You can click on the link to learn more as well as to make a much needed charitable donation in the fight against kidney disease

Dialysis is a treatment that does some of the things done by healthy kidneys when your own kidneys can no longer take care of your body's needs by removing waste, salt and extra water to prevent them from building up in the body, keeping a safe level of certain chemicals in your blood, such as potassium, sodium and bicarbonate helping to control blood pressure. You need dialysis when you develop end stage kidney failure usually when you lose about 85 to 90 percent of kidney function.

“Those who love each other shall become invincible”. -Walt Whitman


Anyone can get chronic kidney disease at any age. But, the high risk groups include those with diabetes, hypertension and family history of kidney failure, African Americans, Hispanics, Pacific Islanders, American Indians and Seniors. 8

W “When one reaches out to help another he touches the face of God”  - Walt Whitman

Volume 1, Issue 1




Beep Two Three in R R T By: Deborahlee Respiration check nurse smiles gloved fingers needle pricks, attach transparent lines an artery out vein in

O Positive


By: AP Taylor A glass office building, squat on a suburban hill, reflects the skies.

chorus rings at hour three, air trap duet with detector pushing plasma by decree.

Marked bins, medical containers, dark spray navy on concrete.

Pump beep, beep pump hum churn tone tone tubes flow running red, clean crimson in the tone morning out down around the afternoon, or in and up warm bed. pumped beep bleep pump kidney toxins dump. Heparin thins to speed blood fluid races in journey of cleanse, pressure falls cramping calls saline solution drips hum churn tone tone tone out down around and up pumped beep bleep pump hands sweep in clock ticks. Monitor symphonies play


Small amount of my blood O positive, spilled, spreads to an ugly mess.


January, 2018


Unfolds hours of sitting, half starved as eating snacks creates issues. Aged television programs, strain too, longer, bite sized scraps of half warmed celebrity. Polished floors, temperature cold, as scars pile upon. Blood spills here onto plastic mats, "blueys" protecting the chairs and clothing.

Away from home, miss Hidden, until specialist scars of arm, detritus of medical equipment. ambulance arrives, death, again, in passing.

“And your very flesh shall be a great poem.� -Walt Whitman

Can forget below lies continuity, incessant warble of its call.

My blind supplication woken by a sirens call, skin observe, pressed Droning pumps tick by, blue. the inch long fourteen gauge needles in posi- Experience mine, inside frosted glass, tion. box crystal.


Apply anesthetic, or ice stick, yell, my nerves are numb. 9


Volume 1, Issue 1

January, 2018

Walt Whitman By: Pam Ray


P JGA AGJ P Walt Whitman Poet and journalist


Born May 31, 1819 West hills New York Died March 26 1892 Camden New Jersey Nick name The bard of democracy Walt Whitman's poetry was often a written declaration of his reverence for his country, democracy, friendship and nature. He was known to be optimistic, often quoted as saying "I stand for the sunny side of life" and yet as a journalist he was adamant and fierce with strong opinions that did not often coincide with those of his bosses or his readers. He was not simply a man of words but a man of response, volunteering his time to bring aid and solace to wounded Civil war soldiers. His book "Blades of grass was first published in 1855 and contained only twelve untitled poems it went through many editions and by the end of his life contained over three hundred poems. Often writing in the first person narrative and ignoring strict meter

His poetry, like himself, defied tradition. Bivouac On A Mountain Side I see before me now, a traveling army halting; Below, a fertile valley spread, with barns, and the orchards of summer; Behind, the terraced sides of a mountain, abrupt in places, rising high; Broken, with rocks, with clinging cedars, with tall shapes, dingily seen; The numerous camp-fires scatter'd near and far, some away up on the mountain; The shadowy forms of men and horses, looming, large-sized flickering; And over all, the sky—the sky! far, far out of reach, studded, breaking out, the eternal stars. 10

Volume 1, Issue 1




For You, O Democracy Come, I will make the continent indissoluble, I will make the most splendid race the sun ever shone upon, I will make divine magnetic lands, With the love of comrades, With the life-long love of comrades.



A Hand-Mirror


Hold it up sternly! See this it sends back! (Who is it? Is it you?) Outside fair costume— within ashes and filth, No more a flashing eye— no more a sonorous voice or springy step; Now some slave's eye, voice, hands, step, A drunkard's breath, unwholesome eater's face, venerealee's flesh, Lungs rotting away piecemeal, stomach sour and cankerous, Joints rheumatic, bowels clogged with abomination, Blood circulating dark and poisonous streams, Words babble, hearing and touch callous, No brain, no heart left—no magnetism of sex;

I will plant companionship thick as trees along all the rivers of America, and along the shores of the great lakes, and all over the prairies, I will make inseparable cities with their arms about each other's necks, Such, from one look in this By the love of comrades, looking-glass ere you go hence, By the manly love of comSuch a result so soon—and rades. from such a beginning!

For you these from me, O Democracy, to serve you ma femme! For you, for you I am trilling these songs.

“To have great poets, there must be great audiences.” -Walt Whitman 11

January, 2018

P JGA As I Ponder'd In Silence As I ponder'd in silence, Returning upon my poems, considering, lingering long, A Phantom arose before me, with distrustful aspect, Terrible in beauty, age, and power, The genius of poets of old lands, As to me directing like flame its eyes, With finger pointing to many immortal songs, And menacing voice, What singest thou? it said; Know'st thou not, there is but one theme for ever-enduring bards? And that is the theme of War, the fortune of battles, The making of perfect soldiers? Be it so, then I answer'd, I too, haughty Shade, also sing war—and a longer and greater one than any, Waged in my book with varying fortune—with flight, advance, and retreat—Victory deferr'd and wavering, (Yet, methinks, certain, or as good as certain, at the last,)—The field the world; For life and death—for the Body, and for the eternal Soul, Lo! too am come, chanting the chant of battles, I, above all, promote brave soldiers.

Sources: Biography.com Poetry Foundation Allpoetry

Volume 1, Issue 1

R e a d i n g

January, 2018

p o e t r y


o c c a s i o n a l l y

B y


i n

Ta y l o r

c a b s …


“Do you know I write some poetry?”

soon as I say the word poetry. They reluctantly

“Oh, really?” With a disinterested shrug the reply.

turn down the golden hits station and stare directly ahead. After I have finished, it’s like that past ten minutes has been dissolved from their

No, it’s actually more like fear.

memories. But there is also something else, apart from missing Air Supply and Dolly do their

Because, it’s clear in Australia when somebody says

takes for the five hundredth time.

they are going to read poetry, an apology is needed first for the assault forthcoming to ears. And not a

What is it? I blame our leaders, the politicians

proper Rats of Tobruk style assault, more like a

and their speeches. The sound bites are even

meek sort of nursery tale take.

worse than the full spiels. I think every people hear voices and then they think anybody speak-

Somewhere in Australia, there are some poets giving me a bad name. AQ Taylor or somebody similar is reciting some truly rubbish poetry. But it’s all right because I know where they are doing it. That’s

ing will sound somewhat similar. And that’s poetry, written tangled language, garbled upon. And people shut off without even being aware of it.

right, in Sydney taxi cabs. Either that or Lorily has made its way into the broader community. Well maybe it has as it is

They may have gone on to the site and stole my memorable made up word piece “Lorily ti malouf” which did give the legendary Vogon poets a run for their money.

my most awarded poem ever. It has the most awards of any of my pieces on the site. Maybe I’m part of the problem after all.

Nowhere is my welcome more meek and forlorn, than in Sydney taxis. The drivers look beaten as





Volume 1, Issue 1




January, 2018



Contact Info: Fillmyeyes@aol.com Special Thanks To PamRay & Deborahlee For All The Work They Do To Make So Many Things Possible *hug*z & *love*

Volume 1 Issue 1 January 2018 is dedicated to Pam Ray ...She has not missed a single beat in her time of loss. As I have said before “You Amaze Me” May your good memories carry you. And never forget that your Mom will always watch down over you and your children. Please accept our sincerest condolences from all of us in LNP as well as all your Brothers & Sisters in your Blogtalk family… Much Love 13