Monthly poem

December

Joy
by Brian Patrick Roach

Leaning
out the window

a smiling dog
licks,

greets each
windy wave

with his
sandy tongue.

November

A note for the machines that took over the world
by Brian Patrick Roach

Now that we're gone, time come,
the planet yours to upkeep,
it's time you knew the truth,
why we're better than you.

First, we bled blood, not oil.
Next, we had body parts
that could control our brain
when it was shorting out.
Parts so sensitive
a simple touch would spark
the fuse to blow the bliss,
sensation, ecstasy
from the depths of our bones 
exploding through our veins
leaving its aftermath
across the surface of our skin.

Third, we had eyes not lights.
And in those eyes a life,
a vast universe
where in the center
burned a soul by which we lived.

Lastly, and most important,
we were always missing screws.

Sincererly, 

                Mankind.

P.S. You'd like Seattle.

October

The alley flower
by Brian Patrick Roach

Rising

against all odds

from a
jagged, black

crack in
the littered ground

before
the rusty trash can,

grows man's 
most precious gift:

a yellow
sun-flower

in a
dark alley-way.