Death of a Nation

— Larry T. Hollist

Book of Mormon: Either: 15: 14-32

For four long years
All the people of the land
Gathered for one last fight.
Some to one side
The rest to the other.

All had forgotten what
They were fighting for.
Yet, each side knew that
They were

Every man, woman and child
Were fitted with breastplates,
Helmets and shields.
All went to battle that first day
Carrying their own personal weapon.

They fought until it was dark.
Returning to their respective camps
The surviving armies took
Up howling for the dead.
A howl that penetrated the surrounding hills.

At daylight the armies returned to
Their work of destruction.
At night they returned to their howls.
None wanted to make peace.
All knew their side was right.

Another day of fighting.
Only now there were less
To howl for the dead.
But their hatred had grown.

Day after day they fought by light
Then howled by night
Until there was just 52 on one side
And 69 on the other.
Still there was no compromise.

The next day there were just
32 and 27 left.
Yet neither would yield.

For the next two days they fought,
Bled, fainted, recovered, and died.
No one relented until the two leaders
Were left. And they fought until there
Was one and the mighty nation was dead.




Desirable Weights for Men

— Dennis Richardson

I’m at my chiropractor’s office when
I see this list of men’s heights
And weights.  It’s not a strange
sight to see in his office, but

When I stop and think of the thought,
What comes back for me is, desirable
For what?  I mean if you’re going
Dancing you might not want a fat slob.

Or skiing, you might prefer someone
Who knows how to ski and not
Someone who looks good in
The outfit.  Of course I knew that.

But I couldn’t resist the temptation
To point it out.  But I mean desirous
Is such a loaded word.  People are
Always attracted to what they

Desire, even a streetcar.  As old
As I am, desire still gets a look or two
From me and don’t say I’m too old.

La Gioconda

— Eike Waltz
I wrote this
Re-wrote this
And I still don’t know the answer… to the WHY

Yes…I saw the goose stepping black boots masked with iron helmets and frozen faces. I was told…I was 4 years old…that we are the masters of the world…

Words… neither stupid, funny or wise.
Words only… by nature… lonely…
So men turns words into brutal creation…but it is the vulnerable all of us…that provides justification and that all so scary… convincing… support.
If you sing… somebody elses song… and you don’t understand…than you are not only an accomplice but also… dead wrong.

And if you don’t hear…what you should hear…and silence sounds like too good to be true…your reasoning… lost for humanity…
Then…your life:… worth… shit all…

Oh yes…Creation thrives uncontrolled in emotion…Think about it…but you… after all…have that privilege… to have a human soul…and… that incredible urge… to live it all…but… is it for all ?

Poetry seeks not only lyrical lovers…It’s from pillow whisper…to that roaring thunder of a juicy… healthy… fart..,
So…take your shit… like a hammer…speak out…speak loud…and crash us all… with that earth shuttering revelation…your … human art

The drum beat of 1939

A…Be…Ce…Drrrrum… drum drum…drum drum…drum drum drum drum…EEEgomaniac…eF…Ge…Ha Ha Hitler…ha hit, ha hit, ha hit…ha hitler was a hit…Iiiiiii…JaJa its iffy…Ka…Lala… lala lalaland…eM…eN…Obnoxious…Peeee…Qu…eR…eSSSSA marschiert, die Reihen fest geschlossen… sociopath…Trrrrump Tru Trump…Tru Trump…Trump…Trump
Tru Trump…Trump Trump…Tweet Trump Trump Trump…Twitter Pussy Puss…the canned Congress Pop up Show…Uuuu…what do they doo…VW es tut wieder so weh (it hearts so bad again) …iX…Ypsilon…unser royal Koenigssohn in historia ezetera hysteria… ezetera Zet…narcisstic…tralaland…
ezetera Z…ein unvergessslicher ironic Zeitgeist …entgleist…
into that notorious ironic memory loss…Camelot tradition on a slippery Twitter Twitter Tweet Tweet Tweet… 1939 humanity’s loss… 2017… is it the same tune or is it an old tone in a toss?… Panic Angelicus…servus…servus et humilis…pussy pussy… piss piss piss

Trump….Tru…Trump…Tru… Trump Trump Trump…black nights…black boots…and I bet ya…ICE is coming to get ya>>>trrrrrump – tru trump – tru trump – tru trump – tru trump


Narcissistic Tweets of a bloviating Sociopath

— Charles Albert

What can you say
to those who still approve of
the bloviating sociopath?

It won’t get through:
they’re protected from
the fake news
by a wall
of alternative facts

Don’t sharpen your claws on
their obtuseness.
Anyone who still believes
his narcissistic tweets
is past the reach of wit.


Ombra Mai Fu

— Eike Waltz


From the Series – Tears of an Immigrant
Ombra mai fu –
In the treasure drove of words, languages and music
I found the opening aria of the opera Xerses by Handel 1738

Ombra mai fu
di vegetabile,
cara ed amabile,
soave più.
Dear gods…
All.. you competing gods…
my troubled earth.
intimate souls
so profoundly….
We are one.. and…none
divided…by natures unrest
lost in histories forgetfulness.
And then…
I don’t want to leave you…sad..
Why should I be… mad..
What is the meaning… of being… bad…
Just… let me end…ever so glad……
…Ombra.. mai.. fu…
Never.. there was a shade…
longer than a day…
shorter than a night…
stronger than fiction…
As only roses… can see…
the infinity…
of eternal.. light.
Ombra mai fu
Never was made
the shade of a plant,
so dear and loving,
or more gentle.
And all the vegetables…I don’t like to eat… may be… forgiven…
And all the poisonous strawberry’s… I love to eat
Will finally kill me….it’s so lovely…indeed
Ombra mai fu
Never …there was… a shade…in a day…you couldn’t bee

On Being a Fox

— Leslie Hoffman

You call me Red Fox
but I would still be a fox
if my coat were grey.
Does not the Grey Fox
eat what I eat,
drink what I drink?

Look into my golden eyes
and tell me if you can see
into my heart, into my soul.
You may no longer wear
my fur around your neck
or as a muff to warm your hands,
but you still train your dogs
to chase my kind into a tree
for your amusement.

Like you did my mate
carrying my pup
whose blood ran red
the same as yours
before being born.

My Precious

— Jenny Luu

I entered a room filled with candlelight,
rose petals scattered the floor.
“Oasis” plays in the background.

I smell the sweet aroma
of coffee, of cocoa
and of cream.

Smiling in anticipation,
I reach for my precious
flickering in the candlelight.

Silky cream on my fingertips,
soft and smooth to the touch.
I slice the sponge-like cake
and devour
this exquisite Italian gem.

The perfect amount
of sweetness
fills my mouth
and satisfies
my tongue.

Comfort, happiness, pleasure…

We blow out the candle
and slow dance in the dark
to the beautiful music
in our hearts, in our souls,
in our appetites.

“When we’re lost in a desert night
and we’re chasing our paradise,
when we can’t fight another fight,
we’re gonna make it.
You’re my oasis.”

We kiss in the dark,
our shadows in a tight embrace.
I know I love you,
my precious, tiramisu.

The Great American Lullaby

— Eike Waltz

When Rex means King and T is a Trump you may well know …its Tweety what I mean
The Great American Lullaby Tweet Slam
Lullaby…Lullaby…T-Rex will be inaugurated… hush baby… it’s time to lullaby
Lullaby…Lullaby…T-Rex will be inaugurated… some are happy… and some do cry

Lullaby…Lullaby…T-Rex will be inaugurated… hush baby… it’s time to lullaby
Lullaby…Lullaby…T-Rex will be inaugurated… you bet… the American dream is finally dead

Lullaby…Lullaby…T-Rex will be inaugurated… hush baby… it’s time to lullaby
Lullaby…Lullaby…T-Rex will be inaugurated… oh God…a swamp monster American… Camelot

Lullaby…Lullaby…T-Rex will be inaugurated… hush baby… it’s time to lullaby
Lullaby…Lullaby…T-Rex will be inaugurated… all done… the king will grab your pussy… oh what fun

Lullaby…Lullaby…T-Rex will be inaugurated… hush baby… it’s time to lullaby
Lullaby…Lullaby…T-Rex will be inaugurated… big breasted mum… keep pumping milk… the king needs every warrior son
Lullaby…Lullaby…T-Rex will be inaugurated… hush baby… it’s time to lullaby
Lullaby…Lullaby…T-Rex will be inaugurated… his twitter will make America so Great Again

Lullaby…Lullaby…T-Rex will be inaugurated… hush baby… it’s time to lullaby
Lullaby…Lullaby…T-Rex will be inaugurated… great… for the Great T… God on his knees serving
his royal T… as he will tweet… coming days… of infamy

Lullaby…Lullaby…T-Rex will be inaugurated… hush baby… it’s time to lullaby
Lullaby…Lullaby…T-Rex will be inaugurated… and just in case… he’d like da punch you in da face

Lullaby…Lullaby…T-Rex has been inaugurated… hold your breath… after all… it was constipation day.
Lullaby…Lullaby…T-Rex has been inaugurated… hush my baby… hush… eventually… like all of us… he too has to die… say no more….kiss kiss…bye bye….it was such a bully of a day…….time… to pray…
After all… it’s that annoying persistent… twitter, twitter…tweet, tweet, tweet …and my so boring lullaby repeat
and if I repeat this… one more time…This boring… awful rhyme…will be the most shitty tweet… of mine


Seeker of Truth

— Larry T. Hollist

The very night the sign appeared in the sky
Navid son of Paiman son of Rahim son of Kir
Made his final preparations.

As he said goodbye to everyone in his small village,
Each person would touch their eyes and lips
Then would touch his eyes and his lips.
Now his words would be their words
And his eyes would be their eyes.

Lastly Navid knelt at his father’s feet.
Paiman anointed Navid’s head with
The sacred oil and blessed him.
Then they embraced; both thinking
This might be the last time they saw each other.

As Navid was about to mount his camel
Paiman handed his son a small bag of gold
Plus a small amount of frankincense and myrrh
For a love offering.

It was not much, but his poor village had sacrificed
For three generations to accumulate this small amount.

Soon Navid meet other Seekers of Truth also following
The sign in the heavens. As they traveled westward, most stayed,
But a few left as the journey got harder and their faith got weaker.

With each village or city The Seekers stopped at, they told their story.
Those who believed add to their love offering or gave traveling
Supplies to The Seekers. Most went about their days as if
There was nothing special about The Seekers or their message.

To the poor The Seekers would impart what they could,
Sometimes doing without to give to those of lesser means.
The Seekers would leave a blessing of hope to anyone who would hear.

As they neared their destination they paid respect to the king of the land.
The king after conferring with his wise advisers sent The Seekers
To a nearby suburb and said, “When you have found the truth
Come and tell me that I too might also worship the truth.”

The closer the Seekers approached their final destination,
The brighter the sign got in the heavens.
By the time they had reached the little suburb,
The sign could be seen at day.

Soon the sign was shining over a small house.
The Seekers found a young child and his mother at home.
She invited them in and said pointing to her son,
“This is the truth that you seek come and meet him.”

Each Seeker came one by one, knelt before the child,
And gave her or his love offering to the child.

That night they all were warned in a dream not to
Return to the King of the land,
So by twos or by threes,
The Seekers left in different directions,
Telling anyone who would hear of the good news.

Whenever Navid meet someone who believed
He would touch his eyes and his ears
Then would touch their eyes and ears
Saying, “You have seen what I’ve seen
And heard what I’ve heard”
Lastly he would embrace them
So they could be embraced by someone
Who embraced the truth, the Christ Child.

Kir means: far sighted.
Rahi means: Show mercy
Paiman means: promise or covenant
Navid means: Bringing good news
The Magi call themselves, “Seekers of Truth.”



— Larry T. Hollist

Date: A Sunday in Oct, Nov, or Dec 1907
Place: Layman, Idaho
At a neighbor’s house of
John T. and Martha A. Hollist
(Parents to Orson LeRoy Hollist)


 Slow down girl; what is it?

 The Hollists have a new horse.

 Your Pa said Mr. Hollist wanted to get a new draft horse.

 No, no, no, no. Their new baby is Horse, they named him Horse.

 You must have heard it wrong, maybe it was Hoss.

 No, when they brought the baby to the front at church

They said his name would be Horse.

 Are you sure?

 I heard it right, they called him Horsey Roy Hollist

 Ok, ok, get my basket down so we can call on the Hollists.

I will never hear the end of this until we hear it from them


— Dennis Richardson

In the real world,
As in the Real number system,
There are the Rationals and the Irrationals:
Those numbers that follow the rules set by time,
March in formations of fractions and decimals,
Salute equations and formulas in the mathematics parade,
And then the other ones, the ones that refuse to be square,
Go on and on about the roots of their problems,
Make it difficult to get a finite answer
When you really need one.

Enter the complex world,
And the Complex number system
Consisting of the Real and Imaginary numbers
Where mathematicians have created the benign number “i”
Which allows them to do mysterious things
Like take the square root of a negative number,
Not allowed in the Reals
But apparently, like poets, occur naturally in our universe,

Since time began and numbers started counting,
mathematics, being somehow wed to the universe,
spirals through our star studded galaxies and into our lives
where, like variables in an algorithm, we go on our half-walks,
between the limits of birth and death,
toward another infinity, possibly with strings attached,
hoping against hope that our poems will be remembered,
in spite of the numbers
against us.

Allen Ginsberg on my Bagel

— Eike Waltz

Let me talk about our so cherished …Freedom.
According to the World Bank Governance Indicator our
Land of the Free is ranking #…41 on this planet.
40 countries appear to enjoy a higher level of Freedom.
What our freedom of the press is concerned, we are ranking # 46….

So… I took that sharp kitchen knife and schmear Alan Ginsberg all over my free…toasted…bagel – here we go:

An incomplete breath of American Freedom in no particular order:
Freedom to let the National Freedom Day… in silence… slide by… Why…
Freedom of speech – equals Freedom to silence speech – equals Freedom of complacency.
Freedom for America to kick plenty ass*
Freedom to be macho, to be number one*
Freedom to out-source and shut off the life-line of dreams
Freedom to protect politicians health and retirement needs
Freedom to deny care and entitlements for the everyone else
Freedom to peddle pills for all the illnesses they want us to have
Freedom to buy judges!*
Freedom to subvert justice when it’s all about winning a case
Freedom to rage war on children’s lemonade stands
Freedom for war! A fight for what peace?
Freedom to turn collateral damage into profit
Freedom for overt…covert…war sleaze*
Freedom to carpet bomb evil empires into the oblivious
Freedom to call the “are you with me – or – are you against me” patriot bluff

Freedom to whitewash hypocrisy
Freedom to claim that only adversaries are corrupt
Freedom to claim democracy …even we are not
Freedom to education with a price tag to ruin
Freedom for the police and guys with guns*
to shoot what is not white
the target…always the center of the heart
Freedom to squirt mace in little boy’s face*
Freedom to influence network news*
Freedom to revive imperialism…. Hail the fascists Camelot
Freedom to abandon Latin Human Rights*
Freedom to break human right agreements
Freedom to create the international court …but not comply
Freedom to burn the Koran by the fanatical Christian right
Freedom to claim that blond… blue eyed Jesus… was born in Texas
Freedom to claim that god wrote the constitution
Freedom to commingle church with state
Freedom to preach religious bigotry with plenty of mea culpa on site
Freedom to demand “tear down that Berlin Wall”
Freedom to build that Mexican Wall …extra tall

Freedom to declare that money is free speech
Freedom for big banks not to fail
Freedom to screw…you… and never go to jail
Freedom to dwell in that tax free offshore stash
Freedom to hide inside the Panama Papers wash
Freedom to go to jail… if you …forgot to declare your dime
Freedom to steal your home …from that corrupted government loan
Freedom to commit a little loophole perjury
Freedom to profit from your misery

Freedom to leak to the press what’s good for the 1% America,
Freedom to keep you in that eternal feed-back loop**
Freedom not to check what’s not true and who really said what
Freedom to the notion that democracy means:…ignorance is just as good as your knowledge
Freedom to suppress and character assassinate the whistle blower
Freedom to jail without charge in jails without jurisdiction
Freedom to run secret prisons with no over sight
Freedom to be the #1 profitable incarcerated nation
Freedom to use a skate board, paddle board, surf board and water board torture
Freedom to bust you for grass if you please*

Freedom to buy elections, or by decision of the partisan Supreme Court
Freedom to overturn the peoples vote
Freedom to suppress the people to vote
Freedom to turn an election into a national freak show
Freedom to normalize political lying and smearing…the bias fuck checkers only happily approve
Freedom to make state of the union promises…
Freedom to suffocate in political and small print morass
Freedom to choose what is always the same**
Freedom to be transformed into commodity
Freedom to sell your personality to the highest bidder
Freedom to put GMO, hormones and antibiotics into our food
Freedom to poison entitlements such as clean air and water
Freedom to take our country back…back to what?…slavery…women can’t vote??
Freedom to make America great again…. great for whom?
Freedom to choose Freedom over what version of Freedom
Freedom to point my finger at the nobody’s… when I have everything

Let me tell you:
The American …“Land of the Free”… is loophole value curriculum… an outdated term of the bizarre.
Freedom is not a reality show.
Freedom is a living compromise measured by democratically elected rational voters. Even so ….a democracy… is inherently faulty.

Freedom… is a tolerant you…the precious one …of the few….
Freedom is my poem of deep rooted fears …of my past
Freedom to withdraw… in soggy tears
Only thoughts are really free…as nobody can argue …what they see

And I am told: Shut the fuck up…dude…get it…you just said it all…
We are the only nation on this planet …blessed with such an abundance of Freedom…. What you want more…. God bless America

Well…. this is what you get …when you squeeze Allen Ginsberg

…Now…let me eat my bagel…
As I love …. my America…


My Coffee Table

— Larry T. Hollist
-this poem is dedicated to all the poets I know.

On my coffee table among the Legos, candles,
And the predictable coffee table books
Sits a stack of poetry books.

Every book has scraps of paper hanging
Out the top. Many are old receipts torn to make
More markers. Other markers include:
A piece of an old photograph that was cropped off
So the photo would fit on a school project,
A church program, a piece of junk
Mail, a school flyer, a piece of a paper bag, an actual
Book marker advertising a poetry festival
Or whatever was handy at that time.

Some makers mark a poem that I will put in my
Personal poetry anthology. Other mark lines and
Passages that I will borrow for my own writing. All
Have a marker to show where I last stopped reading.

Most of the poets in my stack I know and call them
By their first name. Most will be never called Laureate
Of anything. Most could not fill up an auditorium for
One of their readings. All have tugged at my heart strings,
Inspired me and left me in awe of their words. None need
To be ashamed if they stood next to:







Or any other poet you may know.


The Whisper of a German Lullaby

— Eike Waltz

Your daddy is in Afghanistan.
Your mummy
works 3 jobs
if she can.
Your sister
sweet 16
not at school
but an addict on the street…
My Baby…

Your country is in need…
Sweet baby
Your mummy is a Democrat…
Your daddy is a Trumpolini man…
Your sister …got the Bern…
Burnt out…
In a flash …
Now stoned…
Hugging a tree…
…Poor she…
Your country is in need
And you…..
…our only…
…So was I…once…
…A long time ago…
Sweet baby…
Sleep tight
Sweet dreams…
Kiss kiss
…Love you…
Good night
…And so a German Lullaby …whispers …once again


Time Share on the Coast

— Diane L. Moomey

Ball slices into the rough,
too rough: Smell of wet
cat, rustle of leaves, snick
of a snapping twig.
I leave my white ball where it lies
and take another.

Ninth hole. I scoop
this ball from the cup,
still dewy. A tuft of tawny hair
sticks to its pebbled surface.

Sand trap, your scat. This morning
you were seen upon the green.

The rough again— eyes, you waiting
for dusk, for dark, waiting for me
to pack my clubs, cross the last green,
slam the car door. You, patiently
waiting your turn.



— Leslie Hoffman

I’m meeting him in Vasona Park
my friend shrieked
–isn’t life wonderful!

My musings temporarily interrupted
of the plot in Madronia Cemetery

I’d inherited by default

where “notable individuals” are interred
such as Thomas Kinkade
and the second wife
of the Abolitionist John Brown

and my sister

our plots under a gnarly oak
where over half a century ago
we stifled giggles while dancing
on the ground above
where we had no idea
we’d be spending eternity

side by side


I’m sure I’ll be a noisy love-maker
she said, while posing for a selfie
–you know, like when you’re at a funeral
and can’t stop giggling.

When I am old

— Diane Lee Moomey

I will live in the redwoods
in mist and deep green shade. My lover
will live with me: two ancients,
we will build a treehouse
of woven bark. Bats

will hang, head down,
in the shadows above.

Or, when I am old,
I will live by the southern ocean
in a round house with seagrass
for a door. I’ll build it myself.

I shall eat kelp.

A gray cat will live with me,
a very old gray cat. He will be indifferent
to the seabirds that walk on my skin.

I shall lie by the water’s edge each day,
and mark the new year
by the return of gray whales
from the north


The Coronation of the DADA Donald

— Eike Waltz

Dodo is long dada
long live dadody…
What do we da have
100 dadadadadadas later?
Give us
da T
Give us
da R
Give us
dad U
Give me
da M for M M Meeeeee
Relieve me
of da yellowy, da smelloy, da spewy… Pee
Gone in da flash
Cesspool splash
Dada, one hundad dada dad?
Ohhhh… nada, nada…nada
Dad means da Dodo
Long live ….dada da daa
Haddy …Baddy …DADA
Kiss da Donald
On da Trumpolini
Gone ….da blabber lightweight joker
kicking ….da Christian lawyer liar
DADA o DADA why o whya
I like da punch you in da face
Bore me again ….as you only won Ohia
O yeah… America… the press saw me comin
The best clown in town
Build da Mexican wall
high and higher
deport da gangsters all
[is he really paying for that all???]
What can da loose?
Brilliant Putin is tutin:
Hey badddy…Nukes are for hire
Load da trumpet with fire
Da dara dara da da da daaaaaa
Da dara darata tata taaaa
….Sch>>>>>it… happens
Donald breath… breath…
Just dooooo…. what you say
You do it… anyway….
Our goldie locks
Our commander….
Heil da King …Brag-a-Lot
Don’t mess with da messsssss…sssiah
….Ha’ Ha’……………..
And…and… I see…
What remains
…Of… Me


— Larry T. Hollist


Yuki furu so
Haiku tomara-nai
Ase o kaku

Looks like it will snow
the hike cannot be stopped.
I’m dripping with sweat

Making love midair
Dragonflies are the porn stars
Of the insect world

The house is still warm
Black dog panting in my face
Sleep will not be found

Sweetness, joy, peace, love
Was Emily Ann’s essence.
A morning bird sings
Sweetly of joy, peace & love.
Yet gone, she lives, she lives still.