Monday, May 18, 2015

Have you heard?

After Reading Too Much Verse One Night, a Young Poet Struggles to Compose Something Original

I sing the bard eclectic,
quoth the shaven troubadour
on his IBM Selectric.
And what's more, so much
depends upon a dead
white chicken glazed
for whom the dinner-bell tolls.
It tolls for cheese.

Glory be to God
for dapper things:
the little lame saloongal,
the sunflower wary of mime.
Had we but whirled enough
the pedals on our wet, black
bikes, we could have overtaken
the best mice of our generation.
April is the crucial month,
when the center cannot hold
the rain-soaked football.

Typist, typist, burning bright,
whose words these are
I think I know.
A pomegranate should not
mean, but become the light
around the bodyguard.
To beam or not to beam,
that is a quest to shun.

Should I get harried?
Should I be good-natured?
My name is Ozzy Mantis,
thing of things. I spent
a season in Helsinki.
Into the alley of debt
strode the sex hunters,
muttering over and over:
I have wasted my life-savings.

by Cliff Saunders
in volume 4 issue 1

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Monday, May 11, 2015

WWGD

Glinda's Dilemma

Don't think it's easy having all the answers.
It's tough hovering just beyond your reach
in this stupid pink bubble,
barely visible but ever present,
knowing the short cut,
and knowing it won't matter a damn
unless you find your own way.
 
Just ask Dorothy.
Do you think she would have been so happy
to get back to those grey Kansas cornfields,
if she hadn't seen through all that technicolor glitz herself?
Yellow brick roads are nice,
but it took a few flying monkeys
for her to really believe
there's no place like home.
 
I could have told her right off the bat
about those ruby slippers,
but I didn't because my therapist warned me
about codependent behavior,
and said that I have to learn to let people
make there own mistakes.

Which brings me back to you
and all those lions and tigers and bears
you keep mistaking for lovers.
Imagine how I feel,
watching you going around in circles and
wanting to give you the answer,
hopelessly trying to prove to you that
the wicked witch can't hurt you anymore.

It would be so easy.
All you have to do is
click your heels three times
and say I love you.
And I will be your home

by Gloria Heffernan
in Volume 4 Issue 1

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Monday, April 27, 2015

A Warm-Weather Prayer

Octavia

Octavia, the saint of all things creepy-crawly,
has spiderwebs in her hair, gray gossamer bows
like hand-spun lace or antique angel wings.

Octavia, the saint of all things creepy-crawly,
blesses the multi-legged, lights candles for cockroaches,
protects their errant bodies from screams and shoe bottoms.

Octavia, the saint of all things creepy-crawly,
cracker of windows, bringer of the downward-tipped glass,
the scrap of cardboard, releasing her charges to the sky.

Octavia, the saint of all things creepy-crawly,
writes letters to pesticide companies, pleading
for intercession, for understanding, for a truce.

Octavia, the saint of all things creepy-crawly,
teaches centipedes how to pray, folding their hundred
legs, pincers clasping tight to forgiveness.

Octavia, the saint of all things creepy-crawly,
clips fly paper to shreds, a liturgy of snips as moths circle
her head like a halo, buzzing praises on the wind.

by Teresa Milbrodt
in Volume 4 Issue 1

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Monday, April 20, 2015

Ye Olde Networking

Likest  Thou My Facebook Post?

Remember now, while resting in thine seat,
How friends who hath the fame of being true
Inform themselves of what their friend doth eat
And sundry other things that friend might do.
Perforce thou needest soon that "Like" to click
If in thee doth a mote of mercy live.
For seconds, as if swords, my heart now prick
Whilst wait I for what's only thine to give—
A "Like" to say thy care for me is great,
As care that hath a holy man for God,
When showing care of thine for my update
By clicking that's akin to heads that nod.
    If likest thou not my new Facebook post,
    Of myself, anon, I'll make a ghastly ghost.

by Paul Burgess
in Volume 3 Issue 2

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Monday, April 6, 2015

All About Alliteration

Abysmal Abbot

Abbot Adam, an adamant activist,
antichrist's avid antagonist,
acclaimed as attaining advanced abstention,
absorbed an assistant's abject attention:
Anthony, adept, adolescent,
accepted apparent abasement.
Abbot Adam arranged an assignation,
announced anodyne alcoholization:
"Alcoholic availability!
Assistant, apprentice, activity!"
Anthony – addled, aggrieved and
adaptable – affirmed agreement,
arranging apt availabilities.
Adam absorbed absinthe avidly.
Alcoholized Adam articulated:
"Accursed abnegation, abominated!"
Adam's abject, abyssal allusion:
"Adolescence assures absolution!"
Awaiting amorous activity,
adrenalin addled Anthony.
Adam added: "Adonis, abnegate
abnegation, avidly anticipate
appealing, alluring affinity,
alertly amusing abdominally!",
- "Appealing? Appalling abominably!"
affirmed Anthony accusatorially.
Abbot Adam announced: "Apt assistant!
Act, arrange abbot's anal amusement!"
Anthony, accusatorial: "Apery!
Alcohol adder, apocalypse apogee!
Anal attacks? Against any agreement!
Adipose ape, antic accompaniment!
Atrocious anaconda, alas and alack!"
Amok: an aflamed absinthe attack
assassinated Adam absolutely.

---

Spicy Stuff


Sophie, savory seductress,
serving salty slinky sweetness,
startling starters sensitize,
sensational soup sips surprise
starved sybaritic sickos soon.
Some sybaritic sickos swoon.
Stonking scuffles, screwball's swag:
snappy, snazzy, stewing stag.
Salsa sagas, soup spoons splash,
steamed swede, smashing squashes smash,
sirloin, sliced skillfully,
sage sage, spearmint, savory,
sour sorrel, sweet sensation,
spicy snapper's scintillation,
sashimi supernovas sate
sinner-spinners, saturate,
saffron salmon, stylish seafish,
succulent satay's scent, spuds swish.
Splendid spicy scallops steam,
sizzled, spattered sinners scream:
"Sophie, savvy sorceress,
sacramental scrumptiousness".
Scintillating secrecy:
stoolies sigh submissively.
Sweet, sagacious, salty Sophie,
slyly serving slinky slurpie,
sainted Sophie, sickos sigh,
scream "salvation," sanctify,
say "Salaam, side salad, seafood",
solemnizing Sophie's sainthood.
Splendiferous satiety,
sinners snore sedately.
"Alleluia" articulated Anthony.

in Volume 3 Issue 2

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