2012-2013 Online Edition - POETRY

Fly Away

By Robert Layman

-for Namir and Saeed


may a nation feel

the wind that






a father’s




as he casts his hands,




unto the sky,


cursing god

for taking

his son that lay


dead at his feet.


May his spirit carry upward,

past the dunes

and through the clouds,

up to the heavens,



far away,


from this war of a world.



By Robert Layman


One must ponder the meaning

behind the term ‘revolution.’

In engineering,

it acquires this form of

“orbital completion by a

mechanism that’s centered on an axis.”

‘The earth turns in revolutions.’

‘The dentist’s drill cycles at

400,000 revolutions per minute,’

as it drills out the cavity

that’s ached in existence.

The Chinese Type 59 tank achieves

five-hundred and twenty horsepower,

as it rolls over the protestors in

Tiananmen Square.

The homing ground-to-air

missile interceptor revolves

around its turret

six times in a second –

fast enough to locate and shoot

the most agile of angles

out of the sky.

The General Electric Minigun,

manufactured by the same

company that made the light bulbs

under which you read this –

spins at ten-thousand revolutions a minute,

firing one-hundred and sixty six bullets,

in one second,

at the person who dies

before they can even ask,

Why they were being shot?

Malcolm Brown’s camera,

that captures a flaming monk

in the streets of Saigon,

revolves only one piece

of film through the lens,

in just hundredths of a second,

yet captures every angle

of self immolation,

a burning cry in the light of the Dharma,

a cry that will forever be illuminated

for the rest of us to extinguish.

But when will we revolve?

When will our souls awake and see?

To know, to understand, and react,

to such malevolence and atrocity.

Perhaps then, to be human,

means to be forever revolving.

Have You Voted Yet?

By Robert Layman

Yes person, vigilante of democracy,

you kind wand

of this magical government,

I have voted.


Yes person, standing like a sexless prostitute,


waiting to get their

mid-day fix of clipboard

democracy and ballot binging, I have voted.


Yes person, who entraps me into their presence,

with cheap pizza (which I have returned to,

on several occasions for more),

thanks for feeding me, I have voted.


Yes person, whom has already asked me,

four different times today,

telling me not to get an attitude,

yet refuses to get a fucking memory, I have voted.


Yes person, who looks like Barack HUSSEIN Obama,

sounds like Barack HUSSIEN Obama,

Holy Shit!

It is Barack Hussein Obama,


I have voted.