Denny E. Marshall- Two Poems

House Of Time

Have seen things never seen before
Strange landscape and different forms
Many rivers as black as coal
So polluted they didn’t flow
Seen politicians with their mask on
Trying to cover up what is going on
From their tanks, they tell the people
Don’t you see there is nothing wrong
Travel far across the barrier
Pass on through the unmarked line
Step into an unreal horror
Come into the house of time

Miles of giant ghost town
All the people live underground
There are no clouds in the sky
The air so thick it can make you die
Reports the constitution ripped in two
There was nothing
No one could do
Have seen the cameras in my house
A brand-new game of cat and mouse
Come into the house
Of time

Have seen a museum with a redwood tree
With pictures of how it used to be
Then a vision appeared in the sky
Said it did not have to be this way
Have seen signs did not understand
Seen the blackness cover the land
With all the dreams dreamed of
Have seen turned to sand
Seeping
Into the house of time


Warrior

Love cast its shape into something unknown
You're alive forever cause you lost your soul
See the sun a shining on the river below
You have your attitude with no place to go
You will be a warrior and kill your soul

You assured your place in the sun
I can see right through you
When your dark side shows it is nothing new
You found your riverside on the valley below
And with your mighty sword
There still things you do not know
You will be a warrior to a place unknown

You will try for an army that will never come
You will shine your shield and wait for the hunt
Found the mountain peak and challenged the beast
Until you cut it down you will not be pleased
You will be a warrior

Alan Catlin- Three Poems

Twilight Zone Cocktail

Looking at this guy

standing at the end

of the bar so clueless,

it was like looking at

yourself in a Men's Room

mirror in a gas station

in the Twilight Zone

and being instantly

transported, transformed

into something that had

fallen off the tail end

of the Joad family truck

half way through the Dust

Bowl to nowhere and

discovering, not only

did the idiot foundling

child survive, but he re-

produced, continuing a

line of some subhuman

chain of being. Feeding

him drinks wasn't going

to change anything vital

but it always held out

the possibility that it might

give him ideas.

Bedtime Cocktail

Nembutal dissolved slowly into champagne

She looked as if

she'd missed a

second casting for

her role as a side

show Marilyn look

alike bimbo in Pulp

Fiction and had settled,

instead, for a walk on

part on the backlot

of Killer Klowns from

Outer Space, was so

far into the joy juice

before high noon,

rapid eye blinking

false lashes, suggesting

long nights up close

and personal, press on

nails, daggers to your

spine, looks that sd.,

"Once, long ago, and far

away, I'd been with

the great ones." but

look where it got you;

nothing but Bad News,

and here, now, with me.

Sperm Whale 2

If he had sd. that

he'd shipped with

Ahab I might have

believed him.

He had what could

only be described as

a real old world look

that he might have gotten

from stowing his

gear in Davy Jones's

Locker or from

sleeping under

the dilapidated front

porches of squats

along Quail Street

sd. he heeded

straight fire water

over ice with a

healthy dose

of pepper for the

impurities, a habit

he'd picked up

during the War.

I didn't ask him

which War, though

from the look of

him, it was a War

of the Worlds and

he had been on

the losing side.

Denny E. Marshall- Art

JD DeHart- Three Poems

Human Spoon

 

Resting her head, high above

other trappings of ancient and future

cultures, the carving peers at me,

peels at me,

resembles me and does not.

Asks my name without asking.

A face I have seen before.

Ebony, eyes streaking down, mouth

torn, body sloping into a shovel,

never planted, always digging,

now cast aside with other wares.

Some neighbors:  An old house once

loved, now tiny, shrunk down; elegant

uniforms and umbrellas filed under U,

so delicate in form they could never

be used by our planet’s hands,

as if our ancestors were the ants.

I could attempt to buy her freedom,

lift her from this dust, but the price tag

is far above what I am able to pay,

the look of the shop owner declaring

No other deals are to be made today.

 

Ever Beach

 

Stretched and angular,

feet and hands can feel the beginning

of time, a monkish creature, sitting

in robes that do not seem to touch

earth, an expression that suggests,

Forget your television dreams, your

useless celluloid gods whose names

and titles you collect on the shelves

of your mind, leave behind scrawled

signatures, the many images you

have stowed away, and watch as my

hand stretches to the time of pharaohs

(and even before)

making curls in the dust of time,

forming loops in the beach of ever

when creatures first loped, the glanced

up at the overshadowing sky.

Monk being whose paper-thin face promises

answers to questions I don’t even know.

 

The Snow-Beast

You can still see him hanging out

after hours - soliciting, they call it.

The police come and addle him.

When the scientists first found him, 

everyone

was excited and clamored around,

the photographs, movie of the week,

the book deals, the crying faces, 

streaming tears:  I never thought

I would see anything like this in my 

life-time.

Then interest fell.  The books stopped

selling.  The movie of the week was 

extended into a television series deal,

eventually cancelled.

Now he just shuffles around,

hits on women, begs for bags of chips,

and wonders why

he ever made his presence known.

 

 

 JD DeHart is a writer and teacher.  His chapbook, The Truth About Snails, is available on Amazon.

 

 

Yuan Changming- Three Poems

Science Story: A Parallel Poem

I kayaked out of the bay on a Saturday evening

And was sucked there into a blue twirling ring

When I was nailed firm at the centre of a light stream

A pink snow falls though I wish to rise like the steam

My consciousness dissolves into heavenly waters

And I become present everywhere in the universe

I travelled afar to collect all my selves and assemble them together

And here I return to this moment, finding my old self a total stranger

Warnings from UFOs

1/ God is nobody

But a superman

Who has come among us

From an other civilization

That may have gone astray

In a different space of time

2/ The human face

On the Mars is meant

To tell that we have

Detracted ourselves

To see it crying afar

Beyond our own world

3/ Hollow as is, the moon

Is an alarm clock

Hanged closest to us, yet

It will never ring

If we fail to set it

At the right time

Humans & Nuclei

just like two nuclei

moving closer together

whose mutual electrostatic potential energy

becomes larger, more positive

yin and yang always try

to reach a higher balance

as they join each other

at a shaded corner

in a rented room

on a spinning disc, even

in a whole universe

Yuan Changming, 8-time Pushcart nominee and author of 5 chapbooks (including Kinship [2015] and The Origin of Letters [2015]), is the most widely published poetry author who speaks Chinese but writes English. Growing up in a remote village, Yuan began to learn the English alphabet at 19 and published monographs on translation before moving to Canada. With a PhD in English, Yuan currently co-edits Poetry Pacific with Allen Qing Yuan in Vancouver and, since mid-2005, has had poetry appearing  in 1049 literary journals/anthologies across 34 countries, including Best Canadian Poetry, BestNewPoemsOnline, Cincinnati Review and Threepenny Review.

 

Jennifer Jones- Three Alien Haiku

a crashed UFO found

by a dazed cow in

the farmer’s field

alien soup:

crushed eyeballs

human heart

at the crash site

young alien children

find a human body

Jennifer Jones has haiku published in Dead Snakes

 

 

John Pursch- A Poem

Aboard the Spaceship Blonderbust

Emerging ecstatic and a bit bedraggled

from untold years of solid submersible

captivity at the manacled hands of

chronically priapistic cardboard Coptics,

Lola did her level best to suppress a titter,

stepped aboard the Spaceship Blonderbust

with innate aplomb, grabbed the xylophone,

and ripped into Baited Oven’s

Tenth timpani corset,

popping bubonic buttons,

gravitational exhaust blooming

from Shiny Cistern’s bucolic seedbed

clear acrostic rank accelerando

playpen cook-alike contests,

filially settling in Bat Rack 26

for the pliable duration of

duodenal diurnal duodecimal

dew point’s dodecahedral

dockyard dunce cap

premonition overwhelm.

“Hickory, tick off the sold and soldered

seepage of soldiers seized in payday tirades

of Dirty Ear’s Whores und maypole heaven

slum ink err bobble ably chimp possible

oven chew alley tees scrolled sebaceously

down dipstick shin splint leggy bruise net

hectare chowder cuticle evasion cod quarters,”

she rattled off to entry won whittling earshot,

flipping troweled all ewe minima,

what were sow cheerfully deranged in

hat rack pseudopodal genome viral paucity.

Renal Poseur,

flamed fur his manly maundy

Nautical Blasé Bull Klieg records

(sins occluding chesty bout savory

sigh land hopping hypocritical

junction pheasant when cooed

sever witch to imagine;

ink colluding bald-thyme hits,

groins, bitten has-beens,

gams gamboled asway from,

micturation pensive stints,

dented gin shards,

gimpy cauterized achoos,

amber abutments,

spit-and-thumb loin drives

unto trebled ploys,

strychnine trike louts sent spackling

in quinine bubbled cheddar,

sullied paralytic jamborees

behind enema spines,

enigmatic turd stripe

skulls by bluesy ballerinas

in brachial regression canopies,

frosted philanderers hosed

to soundly ferocious citywide

gum slick salamander quoits,

usurers of quintessentially

surreptitious munchy

marrow hollows,

corncob urethritis fellers

of the turtled clime,

bare nut wicket collapse

on kneepad stairwell

door lock mumbling podiatry,

and iconoclastic putting screams

shirked crowned the swirling

Coriolis farce by toiling

forked horse mechanics

in chromium reproval settees

coned clear from moody rental

parricide to messy consequential

vote retouching garters shy above

a barnyard sobbing centaur);

whale, ewe con seize jest wad a pane

indie proverb eel drainage Dutch

cooped sold Poseur musty bleat

fir awl pretty portly sorties,

seven dose hooter knot sew

steeply revolved in hiss chaise

(actuarially caissons heft wee guano

pee handy wear closed two arc urine).

Putt tease czar deke hinds

shove tinklings sever Ewoks needles

to clump to crippled creaks switch

heft antsy one wands together

sandy shelf receptive ear

quasi-lateral glance sat wad’s

scum only cloned asp raw crest

in muddled dais Americon satiety.

Thus ran Lola’s sidestream thoughts,

culled from millions of lobotic threads

spread huffing and prostrate

in cauterized feline domiciles

accursed the interred galactic fabric

of spatiotemporal vacuity,

or wad remained of the sloping

cuneiform versification of conned sequins,

hambone philharmonic clone tests,

minted angular genomic protection brackets,

calligraphic shellfish preponderance

propinquity nun with standing waveform

maiden ironic isthmus panel

peekaboo encomia comas.

Machinery canned a retinue

of surveyed retinal cucumber parts

at shoveling peens sparely teeming

with autocratic snores,

pillbox fantail carriage peels,

and homey tranquilizer consort hunks

of neutered zonal mist reward

pheromone entrustment dust.

“I’m crying to slake

summed shed whey hear,

joust drying beauty Thoreau,”

Lola sex splayed entropically

dried stanchion.

“Aft awning eye slaved

in wooden wanderlust

oar silvered furious slant hover

forlorn fodder hooter on shaven,

ballyhooed pea my Thames,”

she squiggly crammed huff derails,

bespectacled hound sagging

tourist height deal ort’s player.

Filially, Renal Poseur

caught awhirl in hedgerow:

“Pleas come tinea, dire Lulu;

hid wood bleat scum peat

lea quint holler apple due

crust slop indie mantel

hover lout’s pregnant layer!”

Have course he waste cure act,

sole Ole curried dong:

“… thigh skink dumb scum,

tie wheel bed on,

unearthed ass skittish sin seven.”

Hare she broken dawned,

sex clamoring,

“High canned cow true whippet!

Hit’s chest two blast furnace!”

spluttering a scallion

or tensive sheltered steer,

liquidity on flailed display,

drenching mangy

a trenching goat swearer,

sleeping awl putt dose

clapped in thigh-alai

sweaters mired in

quagmire sound.

Maundy hove tea long hookers

droned due teeth indie

ensuring detrital weave,

hay peripatetic tsunami,

booty shore.