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They can have a mastery in chairology , hairology,  ecology, or deep theology, neat biology,  even rhymatology,   with no college degree   least that's what I see  but it really don't matter who where  how and when the hell they be,  wut they study, or if they learned from the university or library  yard sales, jungles,  streets or from a dam tree they's family (above poem by Robert Smyres.  This poem was published at Poetry.com, published in their large collaborative poetry book, and recorded on a CD which they distribute worldwide.)	The following poem was sent in by Florencia Alvero. starryshimmer23@yahoo.com The Hero As I sit comfortably in my room You lie in a cot in the middle of the desert. As I write about you Your thinking about killing and dying. As I am in mourning for your band of fallen brothers You are crying for them. As I tie yellow ribbons around all the trees in my street You’re hoping to come home and stand on that street. As you fight for this great country America, Your America I honor you for you are brave. You are willing to pay the ultimate price To protect this countries freedom. You are the true American hero. You are a United States Soldier.
A spiritual experience As I walk into the holy of holies Incense filling my lungs Harmonies echoing from the choir balcony Saints’ statues seemingly staring at me I become contrite. While kneeling at the golden alter, tightly clutching my rosary Asking God for his sovereign forgiveness Visions of angels wings shielding me from jeopardy Listening to the sacred chanting Taking the wine and bread in my hands What precious blood and body this is! I am absolved and made whole again.  Tell Me inaudible secrets heard among stifled whispers tell me. languid cries resound in my soul with a fiery passion diffusing desperation tell me ... the silence is like a deafening curse put on my supple lips I am dreaming of indigo interludes to divert my attention But i am like a child, my mind will plague me about this unknown mystery. so tell me! ~ Makini Raziya Slaughter	Why is it when one man see's, the next man turn's blind.  Why is it when i lie i feel trapped.  Why is it when i try to speak, i start to stu-studier.  Why do i fall for traps over and over again. Why does the human race not consider there faith when it come to the end of there race.  Gun shoots shatter one's dreams.  Why is a baby's death in his mothers wound. Why is it when one see's the light, they dare to run into the night.  Why is it when i speak it, i can't seem to write it.  Why is it, one's love for you can push them away. Why is it, some of your friends turn into your best friends and your best friends leave you at the end.  Why is life so short. Why do i know so much. Why do i see so much. Why am i split in half. Fighting the good and the bad.  Why; is the question. The question i ask you.  Why do you do what you do. I dare to ask you. [ above poem submitted by: Akelew Tesfahun-damitebob@gbronline.com] Full Page for your poetry or art-includes photos  $99.95 Call www.livingbeing.com at 773.301.2219 (write it down)
Title: childhood wishes Genre: Poem When I was a child Have endless innocent wishes and desires, I don’t know, what desires? But desires ever entertained, Regarded and maintained,  My parents, And soon became aim and sole goal With No peace and rest   Linger in their life. Until my wishes weren’t executed. Sent by: Sajid Hussain pen name :   ghazi sajidhussainghazi@yahoo.com country  : Pakistan Publish Date: January 18, 2005
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