August 22, 2016 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION


Lianne Kamp



A Virginian Anniversary

(In memory of Jamycheal Mitchell)



He was arrested for stealing

five dollars’ worth of soda and sweets.

Zebra Cakes in particular stick in my throat.

I remember my children loving them –


drawn to the individual wrapping,

the anthropomorphic zebra next to a golden sun,

calling to them in a language they didn’t

understand – but couldn’t resist.


It’s always about the packaging.

His 24 year old life was boxed

in instability – his mind infiltrated by

invisible demons that reserve their riddles


for the mentally ill, speaking in a language

impossible to translate – and he couldn’t resist.


I picture his last taste of spring and summer

at the Virginia prison – wasting away

in madness, until he died alone a year ago

on a day like this one in August,


starved and scared in a cell that echoes

with his screams but remains silent

and tongue-tied – swallowing the

secrets that fester in the belly of the lie.


If he had been packaged differently

in a whiter shade of despair – if his demons

had been sunny and anthropomorphic,

if there had been voices to speak for him outside


of the chaos inside his head – perhaps then

someone would have chosen to listen.










So It Goes




the hope –

it will happen



the promise –

it is waiting

out of sight


we walk


around the corner

over the hill

beyond the horizon



blue skies

to the sounds

of thunder


we walk


into our deserts

to avoid

the flood


we march


in lines

in pairs

in droves


out of sight

into another













Lianne Kamp

I came to Boston many years ago to write poetry.  Although I never abandoned poetry altogether, life had different plans for me. I have rediscovered the importance of writing and over the last year have been published in a number of Prolific Press journals. Mainly, I write poetry to make my world more panoramic by watching it more closely.


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