Night of the Living Dead by Alan Catlin

He was the kind of guy
who thought Poontang was
the capital of North Korea
and that Jesus’ Son was a
book about a close relative
of the son of God or a DVD
found at a church rummage
sale that could have been
sold as never watched, new.
Thought the Summer of rolling
blackouts was the end of the world.
Spent the best part of a night
during one of those, crouched
in a corner of his darkened
shotgun shack room with a loaded
weapon waiting for the mobs
of the undead to come. Sat
listening to water from melting
foodstuff in his freezer fill
the drip pan underneath his
dormant fridge unaware that
he was one pitchfork short
of a mob in the hid mind.
Thought the sun had supernovaed
in his face while he slept
but it was just the three way
bulb on high from a standing
lamp shining in his eyes.

Alan Catlin is a widely published poet in the US of A and elsewhere. His most recent book is “Books of the Dead: a memoir with poetry” about the deaths of his parents. He is a retired professional barman and the editor of the online poetry zine misfitmagazine.net.

Mama And Maybe, Even Papa Too by John D Robinson

Quite naturally mama wanted
the best for me in this life and
maybe papa too if he had
given it any thought but who
the fuck knew that I’d end
up writing poetry across
damned, dirty and dangerous
pages and set them aflame
in a world drowning in its
own dark desires.

John D Robinson is a published poet: ‘When You Hear The Bell, There’s Nowhere To Hide’ (Holy&intoxicated Publications 2016) ‘Cowboy Hats & Railways’ (Scars Publications 2016) his work appears widely in the small press and online literary journals.

After the Verdict by Jennifer Lagier

Mom has been on the table
only an hour and a half when
the surgeon and her assistant
pull us out of the waiting room.
Both are in tears.
Cancer everywhere, inoperable.
They will close her up,
send her back to her room.
Work out a plan to keep
her pain-free.

She takes the news stoically.
Says she knew already,
expected the worse.
Tells me to be sure the
health insurance company
issues a refund.
Dictates a simple funeral,
no more than 90 minutes
for a public viewing.

Her final demand:
Forget saying the rosary.
“Make sure they don’t
make me up like
a damned Kewpie doll.”

Jennifer Lagier has published thirteen books, taught with California Poets in the Schools, co-edits the Homestead Review, helps coordinate Monterey Bay Poetry Consortium readings. Newest books: Scene of the Crime (Evening Street Press), Harbingers (Blue Light Press), Camille Abroad (FutureCycle Press). Forthcoming: Like a B Movie (FutureCycle Press, 2018). Website: jlagier.net Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/JenniferLagier/

Burn Pits by Matthew Borczon

like evil
shaman magic
or voodoo
ritual the
body parts
medical waste
and human
feces got
burned just
west of
the tents
we lived
in on
camp Bastion
it covered
us all
in ash
mixed with
sand in
110 degree
heat we
looked like
glazed doughnuts
as we
walked around
breathing in
the poisons
chemicals feces
and the
souls of
dead soldiers

theirs and
ours.

Matthew Borczon is a poet from Erie Pa, he has three Books available, A Clock of Human Bones From Yellow Chair Review Press, Battle Lines From Epic rites press and Ghost Train from Weasel Press. He works as a nurse and a navy sailor in Erei.

Old Friends by James D. Casey IV

I see a darkness
Hiding in the light
Taking a sip of my coffee
And a drag of my cigarette
I give it a nonchalant nod
Just so it doesn’t
Feel alone

My mind tends to slip
Between fantasy and reality
Yet the darkness is always there
Sometimes seeming surprised
To see me

We’re old friends you see
Even roommates for a while
Those were the days
Lost but never alone

James D. Casey IV is a published author of poetry, an artist, free thinker, madman philosopher, hat lover, cat lover, feather spinner, crystal collector and owl enthusiast from the American South.

Redneck’s Paradise by Jason Baldinger

Passing the West Virginia State Line
She reaches into her purse
pulls a pint of Jim Beam
uncaps it, helps herself to a slug
leans over kisses me, offers the bottle
Sometimes all you have left is to celebrate your escape

Jason Baldinger is a poet hailing from the Appalachian hamlet of Pittsburgh. He’s the author of several books the most recent of which, the chaplet, Fumbles Revelations (Grackle and Crow) is available now, and the collection Fragments of a Rainy Season (Six Gallery Press) which is coming in September. Recent publications include the Low Ghost Anthology Unconditional Surrender, Uppagus, Lilliput Review, Rusty Truck, Dirtbag Review, In Between Hangovers, Your One Phone Call, Winedrunk Sidewalk, Anti-Heroin Chic, Nerve Cowboy Concrete Meat Press, and Heartland! Poetry of Love, Solidarity and Resistance. You can hear Jason read some poems at jasonbaldinger.bandcamp.com

I Hear You Crowing Out Your Heartache Into A Well Of Despair… Which No One Cup-Dips From… But, Yourself by Paul Tristram

All balance has been lost… it’s bewildering!
and that is the understatement of the century.
Dragging the limp feet of her lacerated soul…
around and around
in ever decreasing broken circles.
For once, something supernatural,
a ghostly vision,
would make much more sense…
than the stark, dark, reality
of this throat-choking nightmare.
That invisible stake through her heart
is as real as her trembling,
‘Grasping For Straws Which Are Not There’
fingertips.
The same, once soft and gentle hands
that caressed and cradled the ‘Thing’
which is now consuming and destroying her.
Frightened amber eyes of ‘Last Breath Roadkill’
and a mind which abattoirs
between flatlining and reviving itself, cruelly.
She re-shoulders the mountain-heavy burden
of inescapable, impossible, self destruction…
and directionless…
whimpers, out-of-bodily, towards another cold Dawn.

Paul Tristram is a Welsh writer who has poems, short stories, sketches and photography published in many publications around the world, he yearns to tattoo porcelain bridesmaids instead of digging empty graves for innocence at midnight; this too may pass, yet. Buy his books ‘Scribblings Of A Madman’ (Lit Fest Press) http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1943170096 ‘Poetry From The Nearest Barstool’ at http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1326241036 And a split poetry book ‘The Raven And The Vagabond Heart’ with Bethany W Pope at http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1326415204 You can also read his poems and stories here! http://paultristram.blogspot.co.uk/

Your Personal Demolition Derby by J.J. Campbell

violence for the sake
of just being fucking
bored

why not take advantage
of stupid gun laws

why not sell the drugs
you stole from the police

go turn some random
field into your personal
demolition derby

it’s called white privilege
for a fucking reason

you didn’t own the slaves

it’s not your damn burden

right?

open another can of natty
light and turn the damn
radio up

it’s a saturday night in
drexel on a tuesday

the way the good lord
intended it

J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is currently trapped in suburbia. He’s been widely published over the years, most recently at Synchronized Chaos, Otoliths, In Between Hangovers, Winedrunk Sidewalk and Tuck Magazine. You can finding him most days bitching about something on his highly entertaining blog, evil delights. (http://evildelights.blogspot.com)

 

 

The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Alan Catlin

A few drinks after hours and she
thought that her life was an epic saga,
a high octane drama, an action movie
like “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo”,
the European versions, that she was
the star of.  Her life, before stimulants,
was more Asperger’s than wizard of
the code world, toxic avenger, steeped
in international intrigue masquerading
as a bisexual madwoman on tour as
the lead singer of all girl Alt band that
made Patti Smith in her prime seem
tame.  Whacked on whatever, she
tangoed to an inner music louder than
any juke box made by man or healed
by alien, gyrating like a heat seeking,
spotlight heliotrope, refueling her body
with more kinetic energy than a laboratory
lightning strike, so turbo charged she needed
no head lamps to illuminate where she
was headed in the dark.

Alan Catlin is a widely published poet in the US of A and elsewhere. His most recent book is “Books of the Dead: a memoir with poetry” about the deaths of his parents. He is a retired professional barman and the editor of the online poetry zine misfitmagazine.net.

Dress Code by John D Robinson

‘I’ve got to wear this’ she said
slipping back into the dress of
the previous night; ‘I wasn’t
expecting any of this’ she said
as she buttoned and zipped,
‘I mean, I had planned to go
home last night’
I propped myself up in the
bed; ‘This could be your
home’ I said,
she looked around the small
untidy cluttered room that
was my world:
‘I’d cramp your style’ she
said smiling:
‘You may be right’ I said,
rising naked from the bed
and stepping over a few
bodies sleeping on the floor:
‘Take care’ I said, kissing her
cheek:
she draped her arms across my
shoulders and kissed me hard,
‘Who the fuck are these people?’
she asked,
‘I don’t know’ I said, ‘See you
later’
‘If you’re lucky’ she said
closing the door behind her.

John D Robinson is a published poet: ‘When You Hear The Bell, There’s Nowhere To Hide’ (Holy&intoxicated Publications 2016) ‘Cowboy Hats & Railways’ (Scars Publications 2016) his work appears widely in the small press and online literary journals.