ubterranean Blue Poetry
Volume III Issue XII

The Cover Art/Photo:

by Patrick Slaughter


“and the Summer moon

hangs on signs of the apocalypse

the highway clouds and . . . “

“pink champagne cocktails

love, dope and hung

a drive through truck

odd dichotomies of time and season

master o’ lane

o’ sorry, sorry, Lincoln X

and everything has slipped into cadillac

we’ve spread our skirts o’er the land

such beauty isn’t long without company

o’ Tango of the epaulets and icing

and i know

i know

i know

i know i could never say goodbye

and tonight, the kitchen smells of rain and cinnamon

o’ Tenerife

is love sweet

sweet is love

love is sweet

in the midnight sun”

Subterranean Blue Poetry
Volume III Issue XII
(December 2015)

Subterranean Blue Poetry

© 2015


Trends in Poetry – The Re-creation of Language

“The language marches in step with the executioners. Therefore we must get a new language.”
- Swedish Poet Tomas Transtromer (Nobel Laureate 2011)

“when they
told me I spoke like a mainlander, I’d been gone so long,
I held on to the “aboot”, not “about” in my speech.
I dropped letters afraid to mispronounce an island phrase
and the shores of the small inlets.”
- From Wharfs in She’s an Island Poet by Melinda Cochrane

Language, the words, the birthing stones of poetry exist in a time warp. The words used by the playwright William Shakespeare are not all of the same words used by New Age writers of the 21st Century or the language of the street today. Meme, the underground language of a people, is an idea that is communicated from person to person and is replicated by imitation, through writing, speech, songs, art, gestures, rituals, the Internet which may morph. Sometimes the meanings of words may morph, and change as someone uses the word in a different or surprising new context, giving the language new life.In middle school, the children were speaking in pig Latin, you used to add ee to the end of words amongst other abstractions, “ginnagee, ginnagish, ginnagou”, This Writer could never quite understand. Meme is evident in HipHop Music, largely Black culture and the patois of Jamaican people. In Quebec, the French-speaking working class of Montreal birthed “joual”, the word “joual” is the morphing of the word cheval (horse). The working class of East London (those in the area who could hear the bells of St. Mary-le-Bow church) have Cockney a type of rhyming slang in evidence since 1859. So if you said “my ones and twos” you meant your shoes. Also different sub-groups of the population, surfers, ethnic groups, writers/musicians sometimes present creative use of language, presenting as an instrument of the language. When a specific concept in meme takes fire it becomes in common usage by the larger population. Meme is an insider’s view of a culture, sometimes used to avoid trouble, enemies, the establishment and on a good day as the pure joy of an artistic rendering, a celebration of us.

Poetry is the gift of good anarchy, at its best with new original word juxtapositions and when really exciting the creation of new words. As you write a certain marvellation in word creates itself, perfectly suited to that spot in the work, it is something you feel more than intellectualize, and by feeling know the meaning, the poem, and the poet. The creation of new words begins with a good core base of language knowledge, tip of the tongue syndrome and a need for celebration, as if reaching for the stars. Sometimes words from different languages are used, spellings and meanings morphed into an entire celebration of light and new.

The following New Age Poets are noted for unusual juxtapositions of words, creating excitement and originality that occasionally spills over into the creation of new words.

Felino Soriano

rob mclennan

Bei Dao

N.W. Lea

Jason Christie

Pearl Pirie

Nettie Farris

BZ Niditch

Larry Timewell

Zo Alonzo Gross

Michael Miller

Melinda Cochrane

amongst others.

Historically, I have also noted the occasional morphing of words by the women Poets of the Harlem Renaissance.

In rock n’ roll history, the song, “Wooly Bully” was released by Sam the Sham and the Pharoahs, in 1965. Domingo “Sam” Samudio said the title of the song was the name of his pet cat. The song lyrics were an exciting meme mix of TexMex (Spanish-Mexican and English), the song was top of the charts, although some radio stations wouldn’t play it because it was difficult to understand.

Words shape meaning. In the violence of the war economy North America and the violence of the world, a new language is powerful. The old language of sports and headlines of newspapers, the concept of war was often told through the use of words that reflect the patriarchy, hard words like contractors, assault, automatic, agitator, blindside, brutality, cannon, genocide, despot, fugitive, furtive, fortification, offensive, vanguard, uniform, trauma, marauding, and more, words of violence. The creation of a new language, based in love and dance could free the Poet’s soul, all our souls, into spaces of sunlight and the new possibility of peace, perhaps creating the new post-apocalypse society of the New Age, spearheaded by the “thinkpeace” of the Internet manifesting a happier, more cohesive Local and World Community.

New York Spell

by Gregg Dotoli

like that forgotten song
that's reheard, sweeter and richer sounding

when leaving NY, the spell goes too
as Manhattan patient and regal rests
like a lady-in-waiting
on return, the awe and freedom falls
on the spirit
the breezy island whispers stay
this is the only place to be
this is the only place to be
this is the only place to be

Green Beginnings

by Gregg Dotoli

when God created man
and gave him sight, Adam's first color to see was green,
plucked from the rainbow
to remind Adam of life, growth and love
cherish each other
care for earth and all of the elements of nature.
the early gift of Spring and green

Juanita La Lagrimosa

by Gregg Dotoli

salubrious elixir
flowery tender smile
green silent nurse
healing silver hands
that shake out my chakra dust
you my Spanish lover,
your tears dried mine.

Featured Poet: Truman Capote

Breakfast at Tiffany’s


Truman Capote

“Never love a wild thing, Mr. Bell,” Holly advised him. “That was Doc’s mistake. He was always lugging home wild things. A hawk with a hurt wing. One time it was a full-grown bobcat with a broken leg. But you can’t give your heart to a wild thing: the more you do, the stronger they get. Until they’re strong enough to run into the woods. Or fly into a tree. Then a taller tree. Then the sky. That’s how you’ll end up, Mr. Bell. If you let yourself love a wild thing. You’ll end up looking at the sky.”

“She’s drunk,” Joe Bell informed me.

“Moderately,” Holly confessed. “But Doc knew what I meant. I explained it to him very carefully, and it was something he could understand. We shook hands and held on to each other and he wished me luck.” She glanced at the clock. “He must be in the Blue Mountains by now.”

“What’s she talkin’ about?” Joe Bell asked me.

Holly lifted her martini. “Let’s wish the Doc luck, too,” she said, touching her glass against mine. “Good luck: and believe me, dearest Doc – it’s better to look at the sky than live there. Such an empty place: so vague. Just a country where the thunder goes and things disappear.”

Missed Connections

Craigslist Montreal – Missed Connections – November 30, 2014 – Anonymous

emily - m4w (orange line just before lionel groulx)

We met on the metro saturday night at 1 am. You were watching videos of a woman with a cake for a hat and laughing at your phone. I'm sorry my stop came so suddenly and that our chat was cut short :)

N.B.: “for Emily whenever I may find her” – a note from the Editor

Book Reviews

And Agamemnon Dead: Anthology of Early Twenty First Century Irish Poetry.

Byline: Subterranean Blue Poetry

Title of Book: And Agamemnon Dead: Anthology of Early Twenty First Century Irish Poetry

Editors: Peter O’Neill, Walter Ruhlmann

Contributors: Michael McAloran, Amos Greig, Dylan Brennan, Christine Murray,
Arthur Broomfield, Peter O’Neill, Rosita Sweetman, Michael J. Whelan, Anamaria
Crowe Serrano, Peadar O’Donaghue, Strider Marcus Jones, Colm Kearns, John Saunders,
Kevin Higgins, Paul Casey, Sarah Brown Weitzman, Eithne Lannon, Maighread Medbh,
Jack Grady, Bob Shakeshaft

Publisher: mgv2>publishing

Date of Publication: 2015

Page Count: 187

“All the drunks they were singing
We kissed on the corner
Then danced through the night . . .
Happy Christmas your arse
I pray God
It's our last“
- From Fairytale of New York by The Pogues

And Agamemnon Dead is a magnificent celebration of New Age poetry by Poets from Ireland writing this century. In the introduction Editor Peter O’Neill laments the politics of who is published in the mainline press and who is not, as if meritocracy is a game that lives in the shadows. This volume of poetry breathes into the shadows and manifests life. This cross-section of Poets, each with their own voice and distinctive style is the first breath of peace after the 30 years of sectarian violence in Northern Ireland that led to the repatriation of Ireland under Home Rule. The war began in the late 1960’s and was largely disbanded after the Belfast “Good Friday” Agreement of 1998. In the beginning times of The Troubles, no one talked of the violence, it was verboten, and people murdered and brutalized, missing pieces of the sky. In the 30 years of violence, more than 3,500 people have died.

The highlight of this poetry is the celebration of the vernacular and the Celtic lilt of language, inside New Age synergies for peace. The anthology begins with a long poem by Michael McAloran, a Ulysses (James Joyce) cracker barrel, an argument/celebration on the edge of a broken love affair. The death imagery, the broken train of thought, enigmatic and dislocated fragments with slashes between thought structures. A fantastical poem. Michael McAloran has written over 10 books of poetry and is the poetry editor at Bone Orchard Poetry.

Amos Greig has been involved with the literary community of Belfast and Ireland for 25 years, writing, published in 4 anthologies and a book of poetry, he is the Editor of A New Ulster. Belfast Child is a juxtaposition of violence/death with life and a brush of Imagist influence using allusions to nature.

Dylan Brennan is an emerging Irish Poet currently based in Mexico. He has just published Blood Oranges, his first full book of poetry in 2014. The poetry presented here is a travelogue of Mexico, particularly good is The Men in Fake Uniforms. The story of being interrogated by the police while travelling on a bus, being taken off the bus and another tourist being left behind. Bones of Anonymous Children, Deliver Us and Misspelled Messages all have themes of violence and human rights abuses brilliantly written.

Christine Murray is an Irish Poet and stonecutter who has written books of poetry and archives women’s and new poetry at http://poethead.wordpress.com. Someone Wants Lovecraft’s Head presents the sad state of love lives in the West, “Someone thinks hate kills hate.” An exciting read.

Arthur Broomfield is an Irish poet, writer, Beckett scholar and editor of Outburst. He has been published in Ireland and the U.K. In A learned treatise on why Irish poetry moved from a dessert to a desert he laments the lament of all poets, why are they not published more. He also presents After Market Day, Finestere, 1882 by Henry Jones Thaddeus a classic gift of poetry that is not out of place in this New Age anthology.

Peter O’Neill is an Irish writer, poet and editor. He has written a trilogy based on experiences living in France and 2 books of poetry that received critical acclaim. Novel – set in Cork explores the theme of a 17 year old boy looking for his first sexual experience, brilliant nature imagery and an expounding use of the Celtic vernacular that almost reminds This Writer of Black meme. Also noteworthy is Trinity College Dublin 2014, a university student’s experience of being in a lecture hall presenting the beginnings of war and sexual attraction. “When old age sat with her memories going through every one/ living out some paradigm of Nietzche’s eternal return”.

Anamaria Crowe Serrano was born in Dublin, Ireland. She is a Poet, teacher and translator of poetry. Her work is brilliant, on fire and brilliant with passion. The truncated broken delivery of sexual violence, a protest, an indictment of the war economy. on first reading Stuart Kendall’s Gilgamesh “I digress the real garment is not wispy gauze but woven with my pubic hair (4)/ the primitive joy of it/ against your thighs and your crotch” (4) Bethesda houses your civility healing is irrelevant after this. The words are spread across the page with spaces as if struck by lightening.

Strider Marcus Jones is a lawyer, Poet, and ex-civil servant born in England but his people are from Ireland and Wales. He is widely published in literary journals and has written 5 books of poetry. Love is Stripped to Sharing Bread and Pouring Out and In are excellent examples of his work, erotic and surreal, the poetry lives like a painting in the shadows of silence. At the end of the latter poem are the Celtic words “mo anam chara/ mo ghra” which in English mean “my friend, my true soul”.

Sarah Brown Weitzman is widely published in anthologies and journals. She has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and a Fellowship Award for poetry from the National Endowment for the Arts. A History of Blue is a Celtic New Age synergy, profound in parts with a celebration of Imagist influences.

Eithne Lannon is a teacher and Poet living in Dublin. She has been published in The Letter, Irish Journal for Laconian Psychoanalysis and A New Ulster. Ritual is the theme of washing the body of a dead infant, compelling. Everywhere brushes with Imagist influences, an original play with language.

“ego scatters as soft rain through intimate air,
sound-ripples wane after birdsong and the sky
is tinctured with a vacancy suspended in its wake.”

Colm Kearns, born in Ballybrack, Co Dublin. He is a Poet with an MA in Comparative Literature, the majority of his work is published in The Runt a magazine he co-founded. He runs an open mic in Dun Laoghaire pub Scott’s. Euro 88 and the poetry excerpts from his latest project, the “history of UEFA European Championships”, is an inside look at soccer matches in poetic prose, all the action, all the intrigue.

And Agamemnon Dead, poetry in New Age synergies, the theme of violence and love intertwines, enlightens and sings in. A very strong presentation of leading New Age Irish poets, a classic. All the poetry bling from Ireland this Christmas.

Available @ Amazon.ca.

The Gifts of the Spirit:

The Seven Seals


Rebecca Anne Banks

(To the Muse)

Once I held the moon in my hands

embroidered my skin with blue henna

flowers of the earth

offered myself in white dresses

to the valley of tombs

(but they did not want me)

sing, sing to the bird in the golden cage

and 8 trees were planted in winter

but only 1 was the Summer tree

a season in shadows,

cursed by the darkness

I grow old.

I am a child

I watch the sky

from the window, traveling

faces in the Dionyssion clouds

speak to me, speak

faces in the tree boughs


i wash my eyes with my hands

i watch

afraid, not certain what i see

turn away in sleep.

And sunlight by the angel of the sun

and rain by the angel of the night

and winds by the angel of the sky

and fire by the angel of the firmament

I have grown old

by the winds of Summer,

and one blue tear,

the goddess unveils the seven seals.

The gifts of the Spirit.

The first seal is the fall from grace

the darkness of the sun

see my sisters dance in the moonlight

by the light of love

when all have forsaken them

the sisters of Cheops

the handmaids of the flower bearer

she is the light.

The darkness

in the fall from grace

not more than 5 servants of the cloth

or the red shoes dance

the dance of time

remember the Pining Prayer,

the Healing Prayers,

until you are the light again.

The gifts of the Spirit.

The seal of karmic redemption

how this day shines in golden light

sing and sing and dance and dance

the dance of one score of years

Summer into Winter Solstice

into Summer and,

the release of darkness on the soul

into light

once more the living breathe

in golden breath.

The gifts of the Spirit.

The seal of the Starcrossed lover

he pulls me in, close

the sun and the moon

pulls me in

the tides of winter,

by the ocean

too many nights alone

fly the doves

by golden rings

too many nights away,

catch the fish with the sapphire eyes in a golden net,

the day stops the night.

The gifts of the Spirit.

The seal of thrice x’s thrice

all you say and do blows out

and returns karmic starshine

as you sow, so shall you reap

tears of the goddess

see the apple of temptation,

the cursehold

see the white dancing horses

firstly do not curse, you too shall dance through the silken veils

the truth is more unfortunate or less

ask many questions

in the glass house everyone sees.

The gifts of the Spirit.

And the gift of sun on winter pomegranates

the seal of Signs from God

o’ the goddess

the Oracle sees

pours soothing oil on the troubled waters

as the Spirit discerns the truth

brings the olive branch

by His dove

for peace.

The gifts of the Spirit.

(Do not break peace with the mysteries, the seals of the Spirit

or the rains will come upon the earth

and the thunder and the storm

and you shall wander for all of your days)

Now the moon has faded into day

the light wakes the shadows by my window

quiet, the lotus sleeps

quiet on breezes by the ocean.

I hold your head in my hands,

kiss your brow

this day is for you,

in light

and so the golden sun dances.

The gifts of the Spirit.

(I watch the sky

two blue birds fly

so high

in peace)


Rebecca Anne Banks lives in Montreal. She is the author of 26 books of poetry, a family cookbook, a book of children’s stories, a book of World Peace Newsletters and a primer on marriage discernment all available at (www.amazon.ca). She is also the CEO/Artist at Tea at Tympani Lane Records
( www.tympanilanerecords.com) and The Book Reviewer at The Book Reviewer (www.thebookreviewer.ca).

Truman Capote born Truman Streckfus Persons in New Orleans. His parents divorced early on and he was raised by his mother’s relatives. His mother remarried and he was adopted by his step-father Joseph Capote, moving to New York city. At age 11 years he developed a 3 hour writing regimen after school and became obsessed by the craft. Author Harper Lee (To Kill a Mocking Bird) was his childhood friend, he was also best friends with Joanna Carson, Johnny Carson’s wife. He was a very popular and successful writer traveling in high society circles. Capote was openly homosexual and was in relationship with author Jack Dunphy for over 30 years. He is best known for his short stories and particularly the novella Breakfast at Tiffany’s and the novel In Cold Blood.

Gregg Dotoli lives in Nutley, New Jersey and works as a cyber security. He has a BA in English from Seton Hall and an MBA from Saint Peters University.

Patrick Slaughter. “We here at our visual visceral outlet would like you to know, we love to bring light to artists with audio too. Here we have some examples with Com Truise and Byleth. Let use spread the ear bleeding as they melt our eyes in harmonious sensualisim. Have your artist send us a greeting, we will make their creation a weapon together!” - Doktor Rush – (Facebook).