M A Shaheed & James Green

s w i f t s & s l o w s: a quarterly of crisscrossings

Frozen below the zeros
M A Shaheed & James Green

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Captain

Without Lights

The candles guttering wastes no
wax as the night light wanes.
The sun threating to rise before
I finish my midnight phrases.
The words I crocheted become
un-done as my inspiration fades,
at the sounds of day light traffic.

Signaling, its time for me to rise
and shine. Oatmeal with an untold
amount of whatever that’s in it.
Two cups of double strength, double
black coffee to keep the diabetes
away, some say.

Calling those whom I have things in
common. Finding difficulty in staying
away from topics that enrage me.
There are still many items out there
that engage my sense of self.

Like the smell of a flower I can’t seem
to identify, seeing a bumblebee
I thought had died. I don’t have to
think so, because I know time is moving
faster. Tuesday is every other day.

They are humming hymns in Monday
school. Suicide is the only option for
those who realized they weren’t cool.
Watching the people go virtually insane
as their world goes up in flames.

Seeing the facts, reality stands buck naked.
Focusing on something nice once and while,
if it still exists brings a smile. Catching fate or
being caught by it, can bring a grimace a grin,
it depends on how one sees it.

In the dark, without lights, the imagination
and the unseen forces can be intimidating.
What you are waiting for, may be at the door?

Self- portrait of Somebody

Been Searching

I was out verbing with my noun hound.
I ran across some meanings that had
been over used, abused and ground
down, to where they had nothing to offer
except the sounds of dog whistles.

They were used by the inhumane for
excuses to continue to make them feel
good, while they, being no good at all.

I forgot how to spell hell, that don’t
mean nobody’s going. Being on this
side of reality we got latitude, that’s cool.

Digging through twisted minds trying
to find something worth talking about, is like
dealing with IQ’s, frozen below the zeros.

It’s within that context you’ll find them
heroes. Tongues tied to lies, makes the
victim’s TV wise.

The Ads don’t add up, to how much do
they make? What they sacrifice is a mistake.
They always find out too late. There are no
refunds offered on used coffins.

We Commoners

Day to Day

Being free from the entanglements agrees
with me. Off the wall phone calls stay in the
void. Minutiae is too small to pose a problem
for me.

I prepare for the day by having nothing to say,
stay way, is the strategy. Lies and miscreants,
bliss-less bastards cause static to the creative
mind.

Planning my routes to stay out of range of places
where madness reigns. I figured a way to muffle
the sounds from a shotgun blast as I shoot another
TV screen.

It turns out that a different brand name carries the
same damn shame, as a different sicko points their
finger at someone else to blame.

The make-up crew, can’t hide or disguise the ugly truth.
They tried to pick my pockets and my brain all at the
same time.

While serving me recycled lunches and dinner wine
made from grapes that were raped from fake grapevines.
Watching dumb bells ring, in the faces of those with
nothing to gain.

Grotesque figures squirm as they attempt to avoid a destiny
they help create. Recalcitrant, arrogant, unrepentant, sub-
human virus like.

Unable to get around the malignancies in malformed brains.
These are the things I must plan to escape in my day to day.

Verbalist/ Proet: M A Shaheed. Paintings: James Green.

M A Shaheed began writing in the seventh grade and continued after high school. First published in White Motors newspaper under the name of Clyde Shy. The column was called “The Poets Corner,” that he’d helped to establish. In 1963/64 living in Stockholm, Sweden, he wrote stories for a photographer whose pictures were sold to newspapers & magazines. M A Shaheed became a professional musician, playing bass violin and played with major Avant Garde musicians. Continued to write, but it wasn’t on the front burner. In 1966 joined poetry workshop called the Muntu Poets, headed by Russell Atkins, noted Avant Garde poet and composer along with well- known poet and playwrite Norman Jordan located in Cleveland, Ohio. At the end of that year “68”, began to work on his spiritual development. M A Shaheed stopped writing for 3 decades, but driven back to his pen by a clearer understanding of the real reality. Has since published 44 books, been in numerous anthologies. Working with a new publisher, with 3 more books on the way. The genre includes novellas, poetry, short stories, Flash Fiction. “My goal is to keep writing until I stop, until I can no longer hear.”

British painter James Green paints indulgent, abstract images that critique (rather than celebrate) a system that favours the fortunate and neglects the less-so. Rooted in a balance somewhere between fine art tradition and contemporary practice, his paintings often include obscured faces, within spontaneous compositions. The works reject hierarchy and revel in their physicality, showcasing a thick impasto and bold colour to challenge the notion of beauty in art.