Intensified collective
rising up.
A sea of oppressed
soul marchers
making way onto the
encrusted infrastructure
of a diseased corporate

Pulling to task
the empty heartbeats and frozen veins
that have served
death warrants
onto the very lifelines of
a nation.

A slam bang chess game
played out
in secret halls,
on fattened hills
and greed-fueled exchanges,
using humans as
pawns and guinea pigs
while spinning
empty promises
leading up to a fast
and blindsided

The crowds will expand
in volume,
in voice,
and in controlled rage.
This frozen sand pile will never move
unless drowned
in its own underlying
wrenched from
its posts
pulled from its locked down
and stripped of its

The voices are growing
and they will shake
the demonic giants
who have planted poison,
raped, pillaged, gagged
and cut the flow of
human dignity.

The people are collecting
infusing the
holding fast
for an end
this endless


But what will they do
as winter’s air rushes in,
as encampments freeze
and long for shelter.

The mad dogs are waiting…
for the mass retreat,
the slinky back down,
for the faceless ones
to finally
go home.

So the people must move…
into second phase
more daring,
shaking the foundation,
roaring into the ears
of the lions and bulls
that change is here
game over.

by Cynthia Adler

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My Face ~ Oil of Olay

There was a contest for someone to come up with a poem about the face for Oil of Olay. My agents entered me in that contest and I won, and then did the voice-over for the commercial as well…it was lots of fun to do, and luckily, it ran for over a year.


My Face”…by Cynthia Adler


My face, oh yeah, I love my face…but space and time have given me a line or more, to score with all the things I have become, and now I am.

And since I still remain nineteen or so inside my head, there’s not a lot I haven’t tried to match the outside to the in…

I’ve peeled and scraped and Retin-A’d…I’ve pumiced, scoured, and often prayed. I’ve sponged and honeyed, slathered, gored. I’ve even used an emery board!

I won’t give up…I’ll never cave, a slave to years is so passé…it doesn’t hang with what I see for me in all these years to come.

I’ll keep ahead of trends and flows…I chose this dance, the rest is left to fate or chance. I’ll fix on love and what’s sublime and kick the stats of father time…

I am whatever age I play, and if they ask…I just don’t say!


“My Face” #2


I love my life, and yes, I’ve got the years to show…oh no, I don’t go down that road. I fly ahead of all the trends, the bends, and all the hidden curves…

I carry years without the fears of future problems in my mind, I find I’m still nineteen…or often feel in that vicinity. For me it’s all the attitude, forget the number, choose the mood…for age is on the page, my friend, ignore the stats and all the little cliché chats you roll around inside your head…instead go with your gut, your voice, your intuition feeds the choice.

I try to be my own best friend, and open end on things that I’ll invent or try…and flaunt an air of mystery for all that is to come or be…the sum of all that came before, but more…and yes there’s always more….

I love my life, and yes, my face, the grace that years have given me…

If someone asks how old I am?… I stop and let them just assess…and always answer…take a guess!

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