A Poem by Bill Jansen

Damnit, Roy

Would welding sparks hit the city
like tourists from the sun,
if not for Roy?

The city
a thought-pattern
of get-real blondes
dream drones
piss
in handbags
concealed
spin
abortions
balanced news
food carts
bike psychopaths
savvy suicides
radar glossy
Susan the weather girl:

Pole-dance tonight-
cloudy this morning.
Mammoth tusked Indians
quiet
as cigarette smoke
in dusty lobbies
playing backgammon
on a Turkish rug.

Lottery tickets
like cufflinks
on a stray dachshund
with 3 pieces
of photo ID.

Overpass noise
the thrill
rolling joints
on a diaper changing station
at your Mary's Dance & Dine
Broadway and Ankeny
girls girls girls
Visa Visa Visa
like soft wood rotating
on a lathe of Chuck Berry.

On the marquee:

A Pioneer of the Industry
We miss you Roy.

Yes, we miss you Roy
and no absolution
dispensed
by rainbows on skateboards
with fractured wrists
can replace you,
though the mayor is a Samurai
with bee stung lips.



Bill Jansen lives in Forest Grove, Oregon.  Recent works has appeared in Gap-Toothed Madness and Asinine Poetry.

A Poem by John Pursch

Humpback Flash Gun

How far from heart-shaped taxis 

in uptown district squalor breath 

do grappling hugs smile in tonal 

happenstance construction, 

gone to flavored eczema 

in shingled reliance? 

 

Frozen to benefit hearings, 

cannonade umbrella chance pelts 

illusory myopic ethical pralines 

with dosage aspect infusion, 

ejecting blunt tracheas from 

mirrored forensic eyelet screws. 

 

Off to starlit monochrome ingredient birth, 

weaving engendered jelly roll plies, 

cantering poppies grow fairly well 

beneath the surfeit’s cooly enacted 

roaming fetters. 

 

Newbie janitorial stasis sinks 

ageless instruction pod brew, 

devolved to skinned chalk stirrups 

and prescient tonsils 

for graveyard dice cups. 

 

Used tarpaulins capture 

squid reagent lice in training burdens, 

smelting axial toxins for tundra hunters 

on ballpark delicacy parole, 

speaking terminal basis bowling tips 

to ashen hemp arrestor gents. 

 

She found a lasting long-legged laziness 

in futuristic waveform eyes 

and melted into loneliness with 

humpback flash gun syncopation alarms, 

replaced by temporal street closet doubt. 

 

 

 

John Pursch lives in Tucson, Arizona. His poetry and fiction has appeared in many literary journals. His most recent book, Intunesia, is available in paperback from White Sky Books at http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/whiteskybooks . He's @johnpursch on Twitter and john.pursch on Facebook.

A Poem by Darren C. Demaree

Adoration #4

for Cynthia at Beechwold Diner

If you sing, change
octaves with kids
dancing, booth-bound

& with bacon
in their hands, you
are glistening,

a separate
woman, joining
our frame, our shine.



Darren C. Demaree is living in Columbus, Ohio with his wife and children.  He is the author of "As We Refer to Our Bodies (September 29, 2013) and Not For Art Nor Prayer (2014), both are forthcoming from 8th House Publishing.  He is the recipient of two Pushcart Prize nominations and a Best of the Net nomination.

 

A Poem by Sarah Thursday

Ramble

I do not have it
it did not come today
      

all my thoughts

are disconnected

how loud my cat is purring

I didn't sleep well

I had a crappy day

I miss all my friends

for a hundred different reasons

how unclear my future is

how teaching can be exhausting

I have too much love inside
but I won't give it away easy

there are too many tightropes

of going too far

of not going far enough

how I know what I need to do
but can't for the life of me
be the one who does it

I'm always questioning

my honesty

when I should fight
when I should let it all go

I can't stop biting my nails

I can't find a home
in someone else's heart

we are all compartmentalized

like a bento box

all on the same plate

but always on separate sides

I pulled all my anchors
or cut them or dragged them
either way I'm drifting

even though I own my house

and I have a steady job

I'm so damn independent
I want some more dependence

or a place to rest my head

and hear a heartbeat

that knows what I know

that will anchor me

and I can be home

 

 

 

 

Sarah Thursday was mostly raised in Long Beach, California.  She teaches 4th and 5th grade, is obsessed with music, and has only recently dove into poetry again. She has forthcoming or has been published in Stylus Magazine, The Long Beach Union (CSULB), The Atticus Review, Eunoia Review, East Jasmine Review, Yonic South, poeticdiversity, and a project called Please Judge: Short Stories Based on the Songs of Roky Erickson. She has also made five chapbooks over the years. Recently, she has become the editor of Cadence Collective: Long Beach Poets, almost by accident, but completely on purpose.

Two Poems by Les Merton

small press poetry library

(acrostic)

 

Rusty staples, yellowing pages,

Inspired words live on

Poetry from passed-over names

 

 

 

A Positive Word Sadly Neglected In Poetry

 

Yes

 

Being creative: writing, publishing, editing, performing is a way of life for Cornishman Les Merton who lives in Redruth, Cornwall. He's just edited compiled and published Dialect Poetry an anthology of British regional dialect. He believes use it or lose it applies to all forms of dialect.

 

Three Poems by Les Merton

END

 

We are right up against it

There is nothing we can do

 

War has been declared

The war to end all wars

is being over quoted

by the media and informed individuals

 

A conglomerate of planetary missiles

is set to be launched towards us

if the people of Earth

don’t agree to evacuate

their beloved planet

 

Where can 7000,300000 people

of various nationalities, colours and races go

 

Yes a few - an elite few - will probably

be sent to various planetary outposts

some could even live on space stations

 

But, the majority

would have to stay put and just wait

 

There will be defences

The Powers That Be

have all missiles primed and ready

 

The end time

as been forecasted by many

over the centuries

 

Now it is a reality

 

Rather than wait for the destruction

The Powers That Be

have issued pills

 

the container they come in

is neatly labelled with the instruction

take three pills one of each colour

at hourly intervals

in the prescribed order

 

Take the Red Pill first

this ensures a feeling of well being

 

Next take the Blue Pill

it’s sole purpose is to create a desire

for another pill

 

Which will be

the only pill left which is the Black Pill

 

It is very doubtful that before anyone takes the Black Pill

 they will bother read the small print

which simply reads

 END

 

 

 

morning observation

 

abandoned coat hangers

            create sculpture

                                    balanced

on an art

            graffiti riverbank bench

                        a leaping salmon

catches the light

            and the moment

BRICKS IN THE WALL

 

                                    meditation

yoga                         love                         ahimsa             harmony

              bricks      in the wall

                                                  for world peace

            nonviolence             freedom             truth

spirituality                         pacifism             diplomacy

            understanding            co-operation

Les Merton is Cornish and proud of it. He lives in an historic heart of the tin mining area and he has become a prolific writer with 20 books to his credit, (many of which are available from Amazon and other online retailers.) Les has been published in magazines around the world and he is the founder editor of Poetry Cornwall which started in 2002.  In recent times his first play, The Last Cornishman, was performed and he appeared on ITV's That Sunday Night Show.

 

 

A Poem by Mike Cluff

Alabaster
berries
cause
devilfish
extreme
fomenting,
guarded
hopes
in
July
keeping
lobsters
moving
nearer
olives,
producing
queasy
reactions
scuttling
towards
underevloved
victims
wanting
xeon
yardmarkers
zeniths.

Mike Cluff is a writer living in the inland section of Southern California. He is now finishing two books of poetry: "The Initial Napoleon" and "Bulleted Meat"-- both of which are scheduled for publication in late 2013/early 2014. He believes that individuality is the touchstone of his life and pursues that ideal with passion and dedication to help the world improve with each passing instance .He also hopes to take up abstract painting in the next several months.