Monday, April 23, 2018

April 23, 2018

Stopping by the Institute for Widget Studies Annual Conference
with a nod to Robert Frost

This work's been done before I know.
The speaker is a student though;
he has a script he reads too fast.
I wish I could get up and go.

If only this talk were the last.
I feel like hours and hours have passed.
Another conference session blown
in wastelands barren, bleak, and vast.

I noticed I was not alone
when reading email on my phone.
So how much longer can this take?
Just now I heard a stifled groan.

The coffee's bad the cream is fake,
but I just want to stay awake,
with hours to go before the break,
with hours to go before the break.

by Bruce McGuffin
in volume 6 issue1

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Monday, April 16, 2018

April 16, 2018

To a Dependent

Wife, what is thy date of birth?
I must inscribe it on this form.
If thou dost coverage desire, then first
Tell me before I leave for work.

Say not that I forgot when thou wast born.
Put down that book thou wast about to throw.
A forgotten birthday is nothing to mourn,
While insurance lets us to the doctor go.

Thou art my dependent on this claim,
For "in sickness and in health" was our vow,
And I depend on thee who shares my name,
Though I have also forgotten our anniversary now.

Dates hold no value in the mind of man
When he shows his worth with dental plan.

by Mitch Frye
in volume 6 issue1


with a nod to Pablo Neruda

And it was at that age... Mr. Taxman arrived
in search of me. I don't know, I don't know where
he came from, but he threatened he'll find me
come hell or high water.
I don't know how or when,
no his were not invoices, they weren't easy
words, nor silence,
but from my workplace I was summoned,
from my substandard worksite
owned by millionaire
tax evaders
who can afford,
there I worked below minimum wage
and he taxed me.

My pocket didn't know what to say, its mouth
agape and without
a dime,
my wallet bound,
yet hope stirred in my soul,
unfolding forgotten wings,
and I resigned and walked away,
my passport,
and signed the dotted line
for employment overseas.
Makes sense,
sheer wisdom
of one who knows something,
and soon airborne I saw
the heavens

opportunity opened,
cash windfall,
blinding beach zones,
for an ESL teacher
in Middle
East, with untaxed Riyals and Dollars.

Then I, small but oh-so-hopeful being,
high on grandiose
got a call; it was
Mr. Taxman telling me the part
on "taxation
of worldwide income,"
and my heart broke, lost in the wind.

by Karlo Sevilla
in volume 6 issue1

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Monday, April 9, 2018

April 9, 2018

The Code Not Taken
with a nod to Robert Frost

Peace is Our Profession
- Strategic Air Command (SAC) motto

Two codes converged in SAC H.Q.
and worried I could not discern
which one to enter. Seconds few
to verify... is that a "1" or "2"?
What the Hell: Give the key a turn...

I confirmed the first and that's enough;
I'll bet the second is a decoy code.
I picked the first—it wasn't tough,
and took aim at the Russian stuff.
I told my crew to lock and load.

And moments later that fine day,
in scrambled codes I knew by heart,
the order came to send the birds away!
"Our duty not to question why," they say...
I flipped the switch and let the missiles start.

I shall be telling this with a sigh,
after I smelt the burning stench,
two codes emerged from SAC H.Q., and I-
I entered one that let nukes fly;
and that has made all the difference.

by Charles Kersey
in volume 6 issue 2

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Monday, April 2, 2018

April 2, 2018

Crab Lice
with a nod to Emily Dickinson
Crab lice—Crab lice!
I lost my sense—
Crab lice is now
The consequence!

Surrender—all thought—
Of amorous arts—
Start putting lotion
On nether parts!

And change out—the locks—
Ah—I'm free!
At last from a—parasite—
Like thee!

by Gary Mesick
in volume 6 issue 2

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Sunday, April 1, 2018

Cover Up

What many dogs play instead of poker.