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June 2010 A Cynic Online Magazine Publication Volume 12 Issue 6 

The Purple Flower
By Maxwell Baumbach - Contributing Poet

A purple flower
sits before me.

I cannot identify
which family
it belongs to,
nor can I tell you
how it got here,
as there are
no others
similar to it around.

I run my fingers
through the pedals,
exposing the insides
that share the color
of rubbery egg whites.

Despite the delicacy
in my touch,
each leaf
falls to the ground,
leaving me
with a stem of enigma.

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By Nabanita Deshmukh - Contributing Poet

Don't ask for love poems that drool,
Or songs of sentimentality, lines
Which speak of sissy love, sunsets and seas.
Speak to me of chasms, gaps that yawn
Between the shores . . .  provide me with a vessel or a boat,
Give me strings to dream, to cross like a tightrope walker, the gulf.

Don't speak to me of love, of cozy corners and tender rain,
Where couples walk hand in hand.
Do not show me dreams of tenderness, of hearth and fire,
Chocolate creams and cakes, birthday parties and kisses,
Blankets and bed.

Give me instead the strength to face the storm,
To walk bare feet across the desert stretch of time,
And meet the one I love, altered by years.
That's what I call lines of life,
Fibers that help me breathe and live,
A mackintosh to face the rains: REALITY.

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Hard Work
By Alphonso Amos - Contributing Poet

Do you know about hard work?
Working two jobs just to keep hope in your family alive
Working forty hours plus and going to school just to survive
Leaving your family to fight a war and not knowing what life has in store
Do you know about hard work?
Being a single mother taking care of one, two, three, or four kids
Not letting them suffer for what their father did
Working a job you don't even like just to get buy
Being a single pregnant teen working for minimum wage
Trying to find a way to make it
Striving to achieve the "American Dream"

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Making Room
By KM McElhinny - Contributing Poet

dim light from
my monitor casts
bare breasts

where I
sit to write


open, raw
ideas of
burning flesh,

who need

devils who
smile easily,

ride through
my mind
in a blazing

my fingers
travel quickly,

pour over

purging words

making room


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Life's Decisions

By Anthony Dedakis - Contributing Artist

Goat Rider

By Scott Gray - Contributing Artist

Write Yet Another
By James Dye - Contributing Poet

A poem is another
brick in the wall,
so we can pretend
we're in Paradise
and not Lost.
I couldn't bother.

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Climb Into a Rainbow
By Tom Snee - Contributing Poet

Climb into a rainbow
And see what you become.
Clothe yourself in color,
Your new life has begun.

Strip away all shades of grey.
Glide from red to green to blue,
Up and down a perfect arch,
Transform yourself from old to new

Climb back down to earth below.
Share your colors with all you know.
Bring back sunshine after rain.
Then climb back up and start again.

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Model Citizen
By Tarik Linthicum - Contributing Poet

Dress revenge with a syringe to expunge the tinge of guilt.
All the memories built, now spilt ‘cross the floor;
ignore the reasons, ‘tis the season to
begin anew?

Falsetto blue, on the cusp of justice, we'll
serenade the luckless, who
are just happy to be; see
another day. Swaying and graying,
hoping and praying. Time's little
cartoon; the moon
shows what happens to traitors.

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By Marc Carver - Contributing Poet

How I would love
to put nothing on the page
Just leave it blank
Less is always more.
maybe I could shuffle the words
or even the letters to make
new ones
the perfect ones.
I told a woman,
that all that there really is
Is the truth.
Have you found yours.
Because I have found mine.

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The Rain
By Steve De France - Contributing Poet

Waking to the sound of rain,
I stumble to my keyboard
to rewrite a poem or two.
But instead, I sit quietly listening
to the soft footed rain walking around
the garden as my heart beats a quiet rhythm.

Yes, there were plants that needed nourishment.
the Pettisporum by the garage & the Japanese
Bamboo along the fence---all need this much
anticipated rain.
But very soon so much water comes down
comes down hard---it seems to threaten
to be more than just what we need.

Is it a fresh start---new life?

My heart beats faster & something emerges
sprouting inside my chest---a kind of hope
that after this rain
clears up---so will the dryness in my life
this long dry spell
this tedious & unrelenting dry spell
this time in the desert
this nervousness that makes me
stumble apprehensively
from my dreams---from my warm bed
from my sleeping cat
at 3:23 AM
this gnawing recognition that life is ephemeral
this knowing that not even a million poems
can hold back death & time for even a single day
this knowledge that a simple microscopic virus
can end our life & destroy whole civilizations
that have grown from my finger tips.

This night leaves me alone
to the soft silver rain.
at the length of my heartbeats.

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