Give Me Booze or Give me Jesus
Give me booze or give me Jesus
If we listened to the bottom of the vodka bottle,
or finished the last chapter book of Revelation,
the spirits toss in the cards, the chips-
pray for a gambler.
Listen to summer sun, birds that chirp,
these are the beginnings and where it ends.
-Michael Lee Johnson
Johnson lived ten years in Canada during the Vietnam era. He now lives in Itasca, Illinois, and has been widely published. He edits 10 poetry sites. Michael is the author of The Lost American: From Exile to Freedom, several chapbooks of poetry, and many poetry videos on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/user/poetrymanusa/videos . Johnson has 2 Pushcart Prize awards for poetry 2015 & Best of the Net 2016.
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About the Ads you see for Kelly Writers House and Poem Talk: Two years ago I took a free class on Coursera called Modern Poetry from the University of Pennsylvania's Al Filries. Since then, I have been a Community TA. I credit Al and ModPo with recreating my need to publish again. When we first started, I thought it would look better with a few advertisements, so I asked Al if I could run a couple of free ads. He said yes.
I Buried Mississippi
In two small black boxes
With my brother
I went back
Union line cemetery
one last time
my mama and my daddy
In their final resting place
there is still a Mississippi
But it ain't mine
and I am not its
nor Alabama either
buried them all
In that shallow grave
I buried Mississippi
until it buries me.
Besides publishing this poetry magazine, Anthony has published 14 chapbooks as well as a couple of hardcover collections of poetry. He constantly blogs, writes short stories and generally can't be separated from his laptop keyboard for any great length of time.
Fabrice Poussin teaches French and English at Shorter University where he is advisor for The Chimes, the University’s poetry and arts publication.
Poussin’s writing and photography have been published widely in the United States and abroad, including The Front Porch Review and the San Pedro River Review.
Imagine a day without light,
a sun that dies without warning,
the universe when all stars have perished,
and the waters on Earth reflect no rainbow.
Picture the deep blue of your eyes,
as it becomes lifeless, white, and dissipates
within the milky way; observe a night thickening,
where the moon is languid in desperation.
Learn to feed a fertile imagination,
walking in a darkness without known end,
around you form the shapes and hues you once knew,
your heart will be nurtured or it will die.
No need to try and record the world;
memories are all you need; revive your senses
from inside your very being, infinite as your may be,
the cells remember what once awakened them.
See in the unfathomable obscurity,
dreams never perish, heaven awaits;
your heart larger than the depth yet not traveled,
pleasure immeasurable found within you.
Stars come to be again on the walls inside,
as you invent a universe made for you and I;
you close the eyes of a soul where no one may go,
to a creation not unlike that which your beauty desired.
So you will not see again, fortunate you are,
the creation is yours, you are the mistress
who decides on red, black, on green on this house;
please enter, my secrets to your revealed.
Night day, day night, white black, light dark,
now all one, now all none, you know it matters not,
a hand on your breast, your heart beats, your chest heaves,
conqueror, in day and night your live forevermore.