Arms Of Fire

Arms of Fire

triggers of collusion
and loaded
empty apologies
carefully worded
so as not to
cause disruption
cash flow

and families crushed
beneath the blow
steel barriers to
and any care

what can your money
buy you?

your bullets
crushed a nation

and a gun
can be gotten
as easily

it is on you…
it is
your hands

with the blood
of deceit
and greed

and the
cold truth
of a country
and selling…

it’s soul

Cynthia Adler
February 2018

Welcome To The Carnival

welcome to the carnival
where one-percenters chill…
and take the rides and water slides
while you just pay the bill

the taxing clown whose tweets roll down
had promised to evoke
a plan to help the “everyman”
but that clown’s just a joke

the ferris wheel pumps gold and steel
the big balloons burn coal
the fracking band plays, “give us land”
or we won’t save your soul

the freaks control the haunted House
and pay off all the mice
to claim “no global warming!”
as the tilt-a-whirl spews ice

the bumper cars all run on oil
the snacks are GMO
and you can get some scary drugs
at Pharma Land, to go!

as we take roller coaster rides
and puke from all the spin
but when we hit infirmaries…
the doctor isn’t in!

hey, welcome to the carnival
but you can wait outside
the corporations own it now
while you pay for the ride

so… what to do in this array
this sleight of hand that rules the day?
it looks like you won’t have much fun….

till this amusement park…is done!!

Cynthia Adler
January 2018

Window Pane for “V Day” (End Violence Against Women!)

Window Pane
for “V Day” (End Violence Against Women!)

Come closer…

what do you hear?

a pounding heartbeat
a breath out of time with it’s own
a stirring of heat and
boiling blood
and then a rush,
a frozen moment,
a belt across a face,
a rip,
a snap of a button that once
held a collar.

A breast with bruises
upon earlier bruises,
a cutting,
a jolting punch to the
a twist of an arm,
a blow to the stomach.

The shattered pane
of a window to a
who speaks in darkness,
a violation in
in see-through glass
not able to protect
and too fragile
to bear.

Flight plans lost,
underground tunnels
sealed off,
stark and sacred longings
flowing into
hollow eyes and
and womb,
hidden frostbite
in the dead
of heat…

When will your tiger tooth
and your victim’s tongue
spit up
a warrior
that will crack the
prison bar
and break the

Keep silent…
be cagey
rip the foundation of
the building
before you are dust
your own eyes
and cannot move

Roar to the angels,
take back the territories of your body
and your spirit
your heart

and finally

your life.

by Cynthia Adler

Return To Poems


Wind Chime

Wind Chime

Cement corridors
cracked with the weight of
unfulfilled expectations
crammed into old
Duane Reade plastic bags
and toxic water bottles
lined up in perfect disarray
like some half crazed
chorus line.

Glazed eyes wrapped in saran
keep out the cold
housed in grey and
lifeless skins,
which scurry from a yesterday
into a hope of a tomorrow
with silly putty promises
made of cheap Styrofoam

Satan’s fracking auction
held on every back street
alley way,
closing out estates of the soul
and suffering children
with a “what am I bid for that?”
bought and sold politicians
with two faces carved into
either side of their
promising everything,
while bargains are made with a devil
who never gives anything
for free.

Alice in wonderland
how serenely and solidly you sit
while a bloody grassland
framed in filth and chemical poison
lies at your feet.
ice caps crying,
boiling and melting
into a
no-man’s land.
bees in a disappearing act
form hideaways
that become
burial grounds.

Play your music you pied pipers
dancing down your
cast iron roadways.
play for all you are worth
because your fireplaces are burning
and your faces are turning to rags
and when your crying children tire
of their pacifiers,
they will strike the set
and pull the curtain
and the next thing you know…
dinosaurs and loincloths…

So take notice
and brace yourself…
the change is coming!
and if you do not rise up
all will have vanished
leaving no trace of what was
except for perhaps
some old Duane Reade plastic
blowing somewhere softly in the wind
around some old rotting huge
landfill spaces.

A wry reminder of the price
of things
to come.

by Cynthia Adler

Return To Poems


What Is Courage?

What Is Courage?

Courage is infusion …
it is the unmasking of the elements
pushing thru the illusion…pulling the veil…
discovering the forgotten core.

Courage is no more than the will to believe…
to know somewhere deeply that you can
regardless of borders or walls or bolts…
regardless of blocked passageways and enforced silences…
it is discovering your own rebirth
and mapping a course to it’s center…

Courage expands…
it moves the unmovable
it roots deep within our being and waits
waits for us to decide if we will live in full array
or crumble into free-fall.

Courage is the will to grow…
it is a commitment
to stoke the fire
impassion the blood
and disarm the demons.

It is the decision to live every moment
of every day
regardless of how much sand remains
in the sacred hourglass.

It is the leap…
the ride
the wave
it is the touch of another hand, another heart
it is where soul meets will…
to rise and flow into glorious golden power
it is the stand to invite destiny…

Courage is ultimately no more than the courage
to say yes.

by Cynthia Adler

Light Enters

Light Enters

Light enters
it infuses all the pathways
to the
inside chambers
of my lifeline

It travels with me
in the daily
the rising and falling
of victory and
even in
the broken dreams

It is my journey,
my very own,
mapped in beauty and triumph
and darkness

It travels with me
this beautiful winding
corridor of life,
with it’s slides and
with its fear and

Delivering me
to an ultimate
beginning once more,
on another path,
in another field,
to another
but always, always
walking beside me
flowing within me
never…never abandoning me.

we are…the Light.

Cynthia Adler

Return To Poems


Close Your Eyes

Close Your Eyes

Close your eyes
what do you hear?
the sound of a heartbeat, a rare percussion of
timeless flow
a soul dimension
fastened to rhythms of a
crystal core, but more..
a jump to life
in glorious syncopation…

Close your eyes
what do you hear?
motion tones blending colors
into streams of
forgotten promises or
untended dreams
pressed under boulders
wrapped in prayer shawls
and crystal
a child in a corridor
frozen in time
looking out…looking in
searching in space for
signals and signs
and the course of a destined pathway.

Close your eyes
and listen to your heart.
It will carve your courage.
It will source your truth.
It will deliver your answers.

Fly gently and ride the ever constant
and listen.

Just listen.

by Cynthia Adler

Return To Poems


The Corridors…

The Corridors…

Beside the corridors
of the heart…
yesterday’s ghosts.

Pain and longing
and sadness
opening their chambers
every now
and then
to say
do not forget me.

For I am the borders
of your life
that you must pass through
if you wish
to be


I am the light of
the wings
unformed and

Carrying the
promise of
new growth
into the
of the

by Cynthia Adler

Return To Poems


Holding Pattern For 9/11

Holding Pattern
For 9/11

I am awakened
To the silent scent of
Paper ideologies
Drifting gently to the ground
In balletic surrender.

That morning,
The crystal morning,
That battered illusion
And ripped the remnant
Of a perceived safety
Has made us
One skin,
One nervous system,
Moving in molecular prayer
To transform the
Ancient rage
That shaped itself into
Taut missiles
And hurled itself into the looking glass,
When no one was looking.

We are a light show
Hyping the wattage
To force-feed the
While a band of soldiers plays with
Explosives and
And our surrogate fathers
Carry to term
A master plan
As we lay in their hands
Coiled in
Suspended meditation.

We are a nation of
Conditional beauty
And naive grace,
Shaken courage
And stunned silence
Kept at bay
With the deep distraction
Of techno toys
And tinker toys
And celebrity sightings
And the agendas of
Media management.

I am glued to the present,
Moving through crowds
With compassionate trepidation
And a deep love
My fellow traveler,
Bargaining and bartering
With the saints
To prevail
In this sea of unpredictable

I am hoping to stay
On the wall,
Not to crack,
Not to fall,
As I watch the heart
Try to repair
Economic lines,
Religious rancor
and self-obsession,
While the touching of colors in hands
And eyes
Move to the strains of
God bless America
And I wonder at
The irony
And why
It takes this,

To get here.

Cynthia Adler
November, Two-thousand and One

Return To Poems



Trust No-one Over 90!

Trust no-one over 30, was the early Boomer cry…
they’re too old, and do not get us and they couldn’t if they try
but we were pretty stoned and somewhat coked and pretty spent…
and that’s why we got it wrong,…cause it was 90 that we meant!!

See, 90’s text while walking and their falls are pretty gory
(but so do 20 something’s too, but that’s another story!)
and their hearing is quite off and they just do not care to see that you’ve padded up your bras so you can look like you’re a D!

And they aren’t impressed with your resume points
or that you still insist that you roll your own joints
or that you are in touch with the youth of today
(though you don’t understand half the words that they say).

See, those 90’s it seems just don’t get it at all
they just sit there with blank eyes or stare at the wall or they lay in their beds with a mucous filled cough
then say, “I need a nap…so shut up and screw off!”

Yes, we know in those fun days of 20’s it seemed
we would laugh at those 30’s and hope they got creamed
but we should have said 90…cause that’s what we meant
cause our kids are now 30 and paying us rent
and we’re sixty and over and still kicking ass
so we’re happy to give all those 30’s a pass
but the treacherous ones are past 90, I fear…
and we have to remember that
each passing year…
so when we’re getting close, then 100’s the shot
and it may not be fair…

but hey…why the “F” not!

by Cynthia Adler


Return To Poems