Monday, July 25, 2016

As crooked as a politician





A Narcissist's Prayer
with a nod to The Father, The Son, and The Holy Ghost
Our Father—
He and I are real close

who art in heaven—
I've got a free pass to get in

hallowed be thy Name—
along with my own

thy kingdom come—
mine's already here

thy will be done—
as shall my will

on earth—
I'm in my element

as it is in heaven—
I live in my own heaven

give us this day—
and yesterday and tomorrow

our daily bread—
I just love the color of "bread"

and forgive us—
Who? Me? For what?

our trespasses—
not me

as we forgive those—
that sounds more like it

who trespass against us—
they tried, they failed, they're pathetic

and lead us not into temptation—
this part was put in for everybody else

but deliver us from evil—
which means, deliver them from themselves

for thine is the kingdom—
Hey!? What about me?

and the power—
so I can do what I want

and the glory—
I was born for it

for ever and ever—
yes, yes, definitely me, me, me forever

Amen—
this prayer was probably written for me...


by J. H. Johns
in volume 5 issue 1

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Monday, July 18, 2016

Politicking




Senate Café Haiku

The lobbyist birds
Perch in the Senate café
Peck, then fly away.

--

The Senate café.
Pleaders sit with Senate staff.
Deals get done. Or not.

--

Cellphone power low.
No meetings since one o'clock.
Guess I don't exist.



by J. David Liss
in volume 5 issue 1

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Monday, July 11, 2016

meow



Stopping a Cat on a Lonely Evening
with a nod to Robert Frost
Whose cat this is I think I know.
She's busy at the office, though;
she will not see me bribe her cat
with milk so that he will not go.

I've let him in, deciding that
for once I will not holler "Scat!"
Because it's been a lonely night,
I let him cross the welcome mat.

I scratch his ears, and in delight
he purrs, a chummy sound that might
make him good company to keep—
but then he thanks me with a bite

and spills his milk! This cat's a creep!
He leaves me with a flying leap,
and tiles to mop before I sleep,
and tiles to mop before I sleep.

by Jean L. Kreiling
in volume 5 issue 1

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Monday, June 27, 2016

Say a little prayer for myself




Drive By Liturgy

Another celebrity preacher proclamation: God would be mad
if we didn't use fossil fuels, he planted them for consumption,
because angels are hot-rodding it all over heaven, but his god
owns stock in oil and gas companies. Our gods are not related.

My god made trees, hugs them regularly, and thinks people
are darkly comic, wandering in a closet looking for the light
switch, but until we find it we're guessing. His god hands out
flashlights, makes everything abundantly clear. My god says

What's the fun in that? and goes scuba diving in the Great Barrier
Reef. My god pets sharks and doesn't believe in fire and brimstone,
just volcanoes. My god reads encyclopedias, has a compost pile,
recycles glass, aluminum, paper products. My god made creation

that could keep creating and recreating and hopefully learn
something in the process. My god crosses his fingers a lot, opens
another beer to sit back and watch. My god sends dreams, not
text messages. He still writes things in clouds if you can read

the language and stop to smell roses. My god is proud of creating
roses, combustion engines not so much, more trouble than they're
worth, but my god would not take them back, he watches us write
instruction manuals and prays we get it right. Yes, my god prays.

by  Teresa Milbrodt
in volume 4 issue 2

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Monday, June 20, 2016

No Plums Here...





To Whom it May Concern
with apologies to William Carlos Williams

I have parodied
the poem
that was on
your desk

and which
you had probably
worked
very hard on

Forgive me
it was beautiful
so concise
and so bold
by  Helen Companion
in volume 4 issue 2

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