the anonymous brother
The Anonymous Brother
Rumour has it that the old man, with smooth
healthy skin and a white goatee and wears
the same dirt dispelling suit all year, is God’s
other son; the younger brother of Jesus,
the one history forgot, since he was born after
his older brother’s crucifixion and the revolt
in Jerusalem had died down.
He’s a shy guy, like the timid poets who send
their work to poetry sites on the Internet, he
has little communication skills wouldn’t dream
of demonstrating his unearthly powers, lacks
charisma and is no leader of men.
“My brother Jesus, who died before I was born,
got all the fame, but I got perpetuity here on
earth,” he sometimes mumbles to himself, not
really bitter but he wouldn’t have minded
a fifteen minutes interview on the TV., just so
his neighbours would nod and say halloo
the great domestic escape
The Great Domestic Escape
Balancing on my toes I reached the door handle
only to find it locked, with the key on the outside.
Tried to get up on the window sill, to see if it was
raining, by using the curtain as a rope, the railing
broke, nearly drowned under cotton and dust.
In the kitchen four cute mice danced around a pink
gateau they refused to share with me. Had a tin of
rice pudding but, no opener, threw it savagely on
the floor and it rolled through the cat-flap, tried
to squeeze through it too, got stuck; thrashed about
the door opened, it wasn’t locked after all. Hungry,
I ate stale sunrays left on the floor since yesterday.
Outside the night came rolling down the hill, ran in
closed and leaned against the door, put my foot on
the flap when darkness tried to squeeze through it.
Decided to wait till morning before escaping again.
A Tropical Island
When Joe, the cook, waded ashore on
the island, he had sleep-walked and fallen
off his ship during the night, he was hit by
a lump of ice that fell from a plane full of
soldiers flying to yet another war.
The only witness was a man who had come
here to sulk after an acrimonious divorce;
just as well, he buried Joe; sailed back to
the mainland and told the truth, rumours
had it the cook Joe had committed suicide.
Joe’s many friends came to the island
brought food and ale to give him a proper
send off, but changed the truth of his demise
to heart attack, because unkind people may
find the way he died quite hilarious.
Those Who Do The Dying
The Humvee stalled, driver killed, the two soldiers
left was told to surrender to a gang of merciless
street fighters, unbelievable they did. The gang now
vented their fury of all things western on two boys
from small town America, poor America; the army’s
cannon fodder, the losers of all wars. Asked for mercy,
cried, the first boy; as the other looked on, his throat
slit…the innocence of the lamb. The surviving soldier
now quivering, couldn’t retain his bodily fluid, how
they laughed, the bearded men: “American soldiers
are cowards.” He didn’t hear them; he was running in
the woods, near his home, a squirrel in a tree saw him.
he looked up and waved. A freezing whisper flew into
the room; the unforgiving shuddered.
The Crime
On the tree lined avenue, the town’s pride, people
walked up and down with mobile phones stuck to
their ears they appeared drugged and didn’t see
the little girl who sat on the curb clicking a lighter
she had found. Although it was April a cold wind
from the north had made the day cold, and as she
was trying to warm her fingers a rat came up from
the sewer spoke softly to the child who smiled and
took the rat’s hand and unseen they walked away.
People are walking up and down the avenue, today
too, the wind had ceased and it was a nice spring day,
they spoke into mobile phones about the murdered
girl that had been found by the city’s dump; no, no
one had seen a thing.
The Heart Of A Woman
In this place you are free to explore the depths of my soul. My hope is to bring to you Joy, Peace, and the true Understanding of the heart of a woman!
I would love to sit and give you words of enchantment or stories of a courageous fight. Unfortunately I do not have those things to offer now.
I do instead have a lesson, a kind word, an understanding mind, and compassionate heart.
I have a woman’s heart!
I would love to tell you that I am so mighty and can with stand anything that comes my way and that life is full of the sweetest seasons for me.
Unfortunately I cannot.
Instead I will tell you that I too need the shoulder of the strong, and that life is no more than life, teaching us lessons that some never learn.
I am the woman with a heart. Can you understand the woman? Can you hear her heart?
Copyright ©2004 Kristina Brown
Oskar Must Be Stopped!
Calling out around the world —
Oskar must be stopped!
Nae man can tether time nor tide.
Oskar must be stopped!
Once upon a time you dressed so fine –
Oskar must be stopped!
Rough winds do shake the buds of May;
Oskar must be stopped!
Grab your coat and grab your hat.
Oskar must be stopped!
Cast a cold eye on life, on death,
Oskar must be stopped!
Waiting
worse than a crowded
hotel lobby, where
men hurt their arms
lifting bags far
too heavy, to impress
women thick with perfume
who stand pursed
expectantly–
worse than the spoiled
air fresheners of
hospitals, high on
morphine before they
shut their eyes and
close for the night
permanently–
worse than both of these
must be your waiting
quarter behind a boulder
made of steel
by now the
dust must be white
soot in the tomb
faces billowing
in Hiroshima clouds,
tumbling bodies
rolling into your
lungs from behind
the barbed wire
worse than wood and
nails, this charcoal
boulder, black with
the exploding ashes
of centuries, tumbling
and loud with bombs, the
violent sobs
of your Mother growing
louder each decade’s
24 hours.
worse than all this, yes:
did they give you chalk?
so that you
can etch all those wars
committed in your name
or false aliases.
worse than these things:
i read yesterday about a
man who emptied a bottle
of bleach on
a four year old girl
who wouldn’t stop crying.
don’t you see you have to
push harder
please
and in the meantime
save your servant
Surrender And Die
The Humvee stalled, driver killed, the two soldiers
left was told to surrender to a gang of murderous thugs,
unbelievable they did, we will never know why, maybe
the thugs promised to spare their life. The gang vented
their fury of all things western on two boys from small
town America, the poor America, the army’s cannon
fodder, the losers of all wars. The leader of the gang
came, one soldier was made to bow down, screamed
asked for mercy, as the other one looked on as his
throat slit, the innocence of the lamb. The surviving
soldier now a quivering human being, couldn’t retain
his bodily fluid. How they laughed, the bearded men,
“American soldiers are cowards. ”Blissfully hid mind
snapped he was no longer there, but in the woods near
his home, looked up and saw a squirrel; when the told
him to bend down he did o smilingly and offered his
neck, didn’t beg, he wasn’t there anymore; long silence,
coldness, you’ll never be forgiven, wafted through
the room till a voice said; “get the bodies out of here.”
Dark As The Sea
The sea was ink the ship ploughed
a furrow leaving
behind a wake of blue foam that
quickly disappeared and then
the sea was ink again and
no one could come
point and say that a ship had
passed here in the night
but for a memory of a furrow and
moonlit seagulls gliding on air;
perfect beings whose dream was
to feast on sailors eyes…and then it
was day, lamplight shone on a painting,
onlookers gazed, but why was
the sea made of ink?
