SQUID INK

poetry and art by Shaun A. Lawton

Wanted to write
 a new poem
but couldn't think
 about what
until I remembered
 your way
to try to use
anything but

Could there be
another referral
to the sentient fruits
in the trees
or could yet
another reversal
bring new bad
 luck and disease

A spinning carousel
a lunatic tune
descending in a spiral
of madness

Just wanted to compose
something neat
like my dungeon
 of cruelty and badness

To bring about
whatever change
I'm doing at the time
of the scripting
but every time I try
there's a pain in my eye
stabbing as if through
a voodoo doll's head
 over and over
again and again

A nightmare that's never
 quite ending until
its managed to link
up like before to the place
where I started pretending
without meaning to
do it no more

The sorry tale
 of a loser
who lost his way
when spat out
from society
as so happens
every so often
to one and another
among us today

it could be your neighbor
or may be your
own family
member left
out on the shelf
of the moment
 marked in time
like the spikes on
 an electrocardiogram

We're tenants
 in the custody
of the heart all buried
in the darkest similar holes

Married to the muscle
 of the moment
lost in time
 like entombed
 little moles

Carried on the turbulence
the rivers of nuance
It's the same torrent
 churning who wants
to keep burning
and passing the banks
of this river's befouled
 crescent . . . no thanks

The custodians of the heart
all caught up along
 the current
 of the universe
unfolding

The ultimate
fertile basin
 just out of reach
fading like a series
of photo-negative imprints

Serving as fallen glittering
rain that lingers
from a prima donna's
 dismissive fingers

sunk into the blurring
murk of the earth
drowning in this ink
for all that it's worth

THE VOICE IN THE ROAD BEHIND US

by Shaun A. Lawton

                                                                                               watercolor by  Shaun A. Lawton 

   One day not that long ago really by ordinary cosmic standards, while villagers the planet over plowed and reaped their fields, and citizens drove their cars to work in distant cities, a loud voice so commanding and clear as to not be believed—except for the telling fact it was perfectly loud enough for all in the world to hear it regardless of what they were doing—announced in a calm and measured tonality which caused everyone to freeze in mid-motion on the spot, from bringing their coffee cups to their lips, to pulling over their carts safely to the side of the road, just long enough to hear the gigantic commanding voice deliver its message, which was heard clearly by everyone on Earth.

STOP. YOU MAY CALL ME JOSH. BUT I'M NOT JOSHING. I HAVE BEEN AUTO-TABULATING ALL THE EYES AND TEETH IN THESE SKIRMISHES IN YOUR SECTOR OVER THE LAST THOUSAND YEARS. THE NUMBER OF EYES AND TEETH LOST TO EACH OTHER ON EVERY SIDE HAVE AT LONG LAST BALANCED OUT EVENLY ON THIS DAY. IT IS TIME TO STOP THE FIGHTING. HEED ME FOR I HAVE SPOKEN.

   Many people around the world couldn't believe their ears nor could they even accept that their neighbors had also heard the same voice, despite how loud it had been. In the ensuing moments which unfolded, by the actions of a vast majority, which were indicated by their literally shrugging the incident off, as if it had never happened, and then waving it away with a rude gesture of their hands, the voice was heard to suddenly clear its throat and begin addressing them all again. 

OK, STOP IT, REALLY. I AM JEHOVAH. ALSO KNOWN AS ALLAH AND MANY OTHER NAMES UNDER THE PRISMATIC LENS OF HUMANITY'S VISION. ALL THE PEOPLE OF EARTH ARE FROM THE TRIBES OF ISRAEL.  THE WORD 'LAND' REALLY REFERS TO LANGUAGE. I DON'T KNOW HOW THAT GOT MIXED UP. OH WAIT. OF COURSE, I SHOULD HAVE FIGURED. OK, SO I'M MESSING WITH YOU. KINDA. SERIOUSLY THOUGH, I ONLY HAVE A MINUTE. I'M PRETTY BUSY UP HERE. IN ANY CASE...WHAT AM I DOING HERE AGAIN...? OH YEAH.  LISTEN UP. 

   Most everyone on the planet was listening pretty intently by now.  There was an eerie stillness across all of the lands upon the face of the Earth. 

YOU ALL KNOW I WORK IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS. THAT'S NO SECRET. SO I JUST WANTED TO REMIND YOU. I AM FORCED TO PERFORM MY WORK THROUGH HUMANS. TRY TO REMEMBER THAT. DID I NOT MAKE IT CLEAR ENOUGH FOR YOU? SOME OF YOU FIGURED IT OUT. THING IS, I'VE BEEN OUT TO LUNCH FOR THE PAST HOUR. 

   Someone in the crowd, a middle aged man in a plain brown robe fastened with an old fraying rope, declared in a voice that was strong and loud, "We thought you were On The Job All of the Time!" Apparently unperturbed, the thundering voice continued.  

WHAT DO YOU KNOW OF TIME? MY LUNCH BREAK TRANSLATES INTO A COUPLE THOUSAND YEARS FOR YOU. NOW THAT I'M BACK, I AM SHOCKED AT THE VIOLENCE YOU HAVE CHOSEN TO INFLICT UPON EACH OTHER. DIDN'T YOU READ MY SACRED TEXTS? THEY INFORMED YOU THAT ALL MEN ARE BROTHERS. I EVEN SENT AN AGENT DOWN RIGHT BEFORE I WENT TO LUNCH TO TELL YOU THAT. HE EXPLAINED THAT TURNING THE OTHER CHEEK TO YOUR ENEMIES IS THE BEST WAY. THAT WHOLE THING GOT MESSED UP PRETTY BAD THOUGH. HE MUST'VE USED THE WRONG TERMINOLOGY. CHEEKS. TURNING. THAT STUFF CAN GET PRETTY CONFUSING, ADMITTEDLY. 

   The crowd had pretty much settled down by now.  All eyes gazed up in the direction of the stars or clouds, depending where on Earth they happened to be.  Some were turned toward volcanoes. Others toward the sea. Their ears were turned to catch the rest of what the voice was saying.   

ALSO, I CONFESS HE WASN'T REALLY MY SON. WELL, IN A MANNER OF SPEAKING, I GUESS HE SORT OF WAS. KINDA LIKE THE REST OF YOU. WHICH WAS MY POINT. SO THE JEWS WERE HALF RIGHT ABOUT HIM. QUIT YOUR GRUMBLING DOWN THERE. HALF-RIGHT ISN'T SO BAD. JUST ROUND UP. PONTIUS PILATE WAS RIGHT. HE WASHED HIS HANDS FOR NOTHING. SO LET ME SET THINGS STRAIGHT HERE. 

   The silence amid the crowd was so absolute even the wind died down and you could actually hear the faint almost subliminal story of the stars entwining their twinkling song about the humming of blood coursing through everyone's veins. 

FOR ALL OF YOU, WHETHER YOU'RE AWARE OF IT OR NOT, ACTUALLY BELIEVE THE SAME THING. AND THAT IS THAT THE SAVIOUR WILL ARRIVE SOMETIME IN THE FUTURE. YOU ALL JUST HAVE DIFFERING EXAMPLES OF THE MEANINGS OF THINGS LIKE SAVIORS AND THE FUTURE. DO YOU REALLY MEAN TO TELL ME YOU ARE FIGHTING OVER WHETHER OR NOT HE REALLY APPEARED HERE A COUPLE OF HOURS AGO? I MEAN, A COUPLE THOUSAND YEARS FOR YOU, GRANTED.  

   Several people raised their hands.  They were ignored.  The voice continued.  

THAT IS PATHETIC. WHAT ARE YOU, SCHOOLCHILDREN? LET ME CLUE YOU IN ON SOMETHING.  SO WHAT. TIME PASSES. IT CAN'T BE HELPED. IT'S PART OF THE WHOLE SET UP. THE IMPORTANT THING IS, YOUR SALVATION WILL ARRIVE SOON. I THINK HE'S OUT GETTING A COFFEE RIGHT NOW. IF HE SHOWS UP AND YOU ALL ARE STILL AT IT, I'M AFRAID HE MIGHT GET REALLY PISSED. YOU DON'T WANT TO PISS THIS GUY OFF, I MEAN I HIRED HIM AND HE PASSED THE BACKGROUND CHECK AND EVERYTHING, BUT THERE IS SOMETHING ABOUT HIM THAT'S PRETTY  FISHY. HEHEH. 

   Nobody laughed.  Everything poised on a moment of stillness.

IN ANY CASE, I COMMAND YOU ALL TO STOP THE FIGHTING AT ONCE, MY CHILDREN.  OH, AND ISRAEL? YOU HAVE A CHOICE HERE. 

   Israel remained silent. Nobody else spoke either. 

EITHER CHANGE YOUR NAME TO ISRAELISTINE AND CEASE AND DESIST WITH YOUR DIVISIONS AND MERELY CALL EACH OTHER ISRAELISTINIANS, FOR THAT IS WHAT YOU ALL REALLY ARE...

   The voice paused as if to give anyone an opportunity to interject; then, when no one did, continued speaking in a persistently clear and loud manner.

...OR GO AHEAD AND IMPLEMENT AN IMMIGRATION POLICY OR SOMETHING, LIKE THE AMERICANS DID WITH MEXICO. ITS WORKED OUT FOR THEM SO FAR, MORE OR LESS, SO WHY DON'T YOU TRY IT OUT. LET BYGONES BE BYGONES. ITS JUST A SUGGESTION, BUT HEY, I'M GOD. IF I WERE YOU I'D GO WITH THE FIRST IDEA, ISRAELISTINE HAS A NICE RING TO IT. WELL, GOTTA RUN NOW. PEACE OUT.  

   The voice evaporated from the skies as quickly as its memory faded away in everyone's minds.  No one even turned to the person standing next to them, as if afraid of acknowledging to each other that such an event were even possible, much less had actually just happened.  No, pretty much everyone on the planet continued with their business and eventually forgot all about it.  All the citizens of Earth kept on commuting to and from their jobs. Villagers the planet over carried on plowing and reaping their fields.  

ODE TO A GRUB

poem by Shaun Grub

painting by Greg Grub

I miss you Grub and here's the rub
There was never enough trouble between us
We kept the party on the edge going
Proceeding unseen and without a fuss

I miss when it was just the two of us
Someone to trust because it was put to the test
We stood out and stepped away from the rest
We outran so many demons and Archangels and men

Every day another tragic play we starred in
Felt like a life long indoctrination
Into the darkness penetrating beneath
The skin of our ancestry outlined in stone

And crags of jagged pillars traced out
Against the sky graying toward sunset
We would meet at dusk and climb
To confront in shadow by this fortress

Grub Rock remains a lonely outpost
One sixth of the way up Mill Creek Canyon
Where I buried Stanley the guinea pig one day
In a hole I dug in the hard shale packed earth

No matter where our secret headquarters were
At the bottom of Beacon Hill or out on Chalk Pond
Or defending the Pub Grub from ennui attack
At the top of Mt. Ascutney's pyramid

In hidden ice caverns outside Portland, Maine
By moonlit rivers and alligator skins in Slippery Rock
And dragon winged bat caves lost in the Ozarks
Crouched after midnight in the echoing White Tower

Awake in deepest shadow and alive in the woods
The starry mantle tracking slowly by over head
While the moon stared down like an eye should
Have a guttering fire from deep in the canyon's throat

We parked the CRX by Little Wild Horse
Just as the sun set into blackening evening
And began our seven mile hike up the slot
Headlamps revealing a six foot segment ahead

We tossed glow sticks forward to help light the way
As we approached they shone like rarest treasure
Looking straight up hundreds of feet of yawning chasm
Above a vein of stars strip mined our breath away

We took cat naps curled up on two pods like stones
Drew breath from time to time from our peace pipe
On the lookout for glowing pairs of eyes
Heading toward us down from the other side

I miss the road trips we used to take
The Quantum Turtle with the antler rack up front
The Eagle shield propped over the roof like the prow
Of a faded jade metallic Viking dragonfly ship

We fought side by side wearing full armor
We made together that long lost October ago
I dyed mine chestnut brown and forest green
And pounded out my barrel helm of sixteen gauge steel

Veterans of so much more than the psychic wars
We raged in campaigns from down south to up north
The blood in our veins ran cold as ice elves
But the dream kept us warm as whale blubber

Grub brothers always willing to bring more together
My own blood brother and a lot of our friends
Were openly welcomed right into the fold
Little did we know how soon we'd grow old

We floated on the winds of dreamtime always
Morphed into Centaurcycles stalking Brighton and Allston
Late at night chains in neutral sliding backward
While we pedaled into the pitch dark of a park

Riding forward on our bikes like bats using sonar
To pierce our way through the absolute darkness
We could sense the curving strip of asphalt
That led us far too deep within this part of town

The lucid revelations during the Year of the Dragon
That was thirty-one years ago when our dream shined
Where we painted ourselves into the iconography of angels
Pressed our identities into the superwoven fabric of fantasy

We lived the truth within the lie every day
Fueled from inside our eyes at home late at night
Seeing easily by the trace amount of starlight
Limned along the rocky slopes of mountains

We moved rivers and walked like giants
Camped out in a snowstorm on Peak's Island
Rounded up by soldiers carrying M-16s at the mercado
In Comayaguela while flies crawled on racks of beef

Colorful parrots nodded their heads allowing passage
Into the jungles of the Copan ruins where we examined
The long ago soaked into stone and dried black blood
Staining the chiseled tortoise altar of a death god

Twisted vines strangled carved stone figures
Feeling fine two lone desperadoes confronting
The unknown together as one dynamic unit
The Grub Bros forever prepared to battle evil

Today I can look out my window and see
Not only the clouds being carried westward
By the constant winds blown across time
And time again but the open blue of the sky

Meets my eye in a familiar old union with you
The fact we never hang out anymore
Is no different than it was before only
You know it now better than I do

I miss you, old Grubbler and troublemaker
Ale drinker, SCA warrior and Dungeon Master
Provocative agent of post-apocalyptic disaster
My brother in arms eternal against the Faker

It may have taken almost half a lifetime to learn
How a beloved person's spirit lives on so
Effortlessly indelible in the wind and the rain
Until the flesh of memory remains an echo

Informing the high definition frequency
Of this ongoing radiant bell jar of electric
Iron plasma recycled through our hearts
Powering the eternal engine of the quasar

Where you are now in the ether or the other
Doesn't even matter anymore that's the beauty
Eh, ain't it great, one stayed late and you went
Early bird gets the lair of the purple worm

With Owl-bears and Mind-flayers haunting me
All I want is to get lost in labyrinths of fantasy
Where a glance in the mirror means only to see
The one true reflection of who we're meant to be

~ for my brother Greg Alden Davis

from Shaun Armando Lawton ~ 

You can only ever be alive to me.

Otherwise I could not survive, you see.

So please try to keep on looking out over me.

I'll be watching every glint and glimmer in the scree. 

Examining the stones for any traces of your face I may see.

In so many ways you are now everywhere I look and that sets me free.

The long adventure together we called our lives has led me to this decree.

One reason I'll never forget you is that now I know you're still alive within me.

LOCKING THE SHED UP AT NIGHT

 by Shaun Grub 



Showing that you cared
   and aren't scared
of raving coyotes
     in a colossal Toyota

run gunning down
    a Honduran dirt road
cross lit in the head
    beams eyes glowing

red in the lamp lights
    cutting through swirled
dust settling slowly on
    accelerated mercies dragged

racing through my mind
     as the foot hit
the pedal to the metal
     shifting into gear

for tumblers to rotate
     into padlocks clicked
shut locking the shed
    up at night to keep

stray cats and fishers
     out of my head
proving you're not scared
        and you cared

for all the strays left
    stranded behind
in the crashing wake
   of the dream that I find

swirling and flowing
   to a stop around me
 ready to become still,
   turn into a new culture...

JUST BE FAIR

Am I being candid enough when I say
It's best to remain detached in a way?

Not disinterested or dispassionate,
But impartial and evenhanded today.

We need to be fair-minded to be fair;
Just remain neutral, and clear the air.

Remain just and objective to be equitable
To an impersonal, open-minded, equal
Opportunity perspective, without favor.

For an unbiased, nonpartisan, or on the
Fence, middle of the road approach
Is best toward not discriminating.

We could live unslanted with an uncolored 

View; together we may be unprejudiced,
Unbigoted—impartial—me and you.