Thursday, October 29, 2015

JD DeHart- Two Poems


We know the inhumanity
from the lack of subtle
gesture, We know we are
viewing an automaton
because of the mechanical
smile, the twitch of a gear,
the sound of an engine inside.


What was normal
on your planet
is not normal here

Join the dance of a new
gravity, the sound
of a new tribal music

Enjoy the culture of this
new world and try to forget
the distant blue pebble.

Tempest Brew- A Poem

The Night They Should Have Died

time being what time is,
they got caught in the reel,
spinning on the wheel

what was supposed to be a routine
mission back to '39
turned into a mass exodus

but, damage control swept in,
all is well, and the other residents
of the continent have been reassured

they are firmly in time
until they aren't.

Ayaz Daryl Nielsen- Three Poems


Sandy’s tailor shop
$6 shortens each pants leg
costs me thirty bucks

gentle white swans
singing peaceful prophecies
best served with muskrat

the earth’s slowing down
and I, truth-teller of lies,
deny everything

Tuesday, October 27, 2015

Michael Ceraolo- Poetry

We Are the Champions

We found this dig-vid program,
a list of the scheduled events
of the Games of the CCLth Olympiad,
to be held under the auspices of the
Inter-Solar-System Olympic Committee

[ISSOC was the descendant
of the frequently neofascist
Terran International Olympic Committee]

Events to be held on Earth:

Athletics for Androids

Athletics for Genetically-Altered Humans

Athletics for Chemically-Altered Humans

Athletics for All-Original Humans

Ultimate Pankration
(to the ancient Greeks' two rules 
(no biting, no eye-gouging)
was added a third rule:
all combat must be one-to-one,
no ganging up permitted,
as all the combatants will be competing
in the fight area at the same time
The last person left standing is the winner)

Also:  Wrestling, Swimming
for the four categories of organisms
listed previously for athletics

(all competitors to be considered human
no matter what planetary body they come from,
conclusive proof is given
showing the athlete no longer belongs
to one of the four categories;
to an athlete's membership in
any particular category
must be made before the competition is held)

Events to be held on moons:

Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea (and Back)
(watercraft able to withstand the pressure
will race to the bottom and then back to the top
of the sixty-mile deep ocean on Ganymede
There will be two competitions:
one an individual time trial
where each competitor races separately,
one a race where all competitors
will be racing at the same time
on a defined course)

Speed Skating on Methane Lakes
(Skaters will skate the same distances on Titan
they used to skate back when there was ice on Earth,
as important as the participants' athletic ability
will be their ability to create skates from materials
that will minimize the friction generated
so as not to thaw the frozen lakes)

Cliff Diving
(On Miranda,
wearing parachute suits
will dive off Verona Rupes,
the highest cliff in the solar system,
will pull their parachutes at the prescribed time
Two gold medals will be awarded:
one for the greatest survived adrenaline rush,
one for the least rush of adrenaline,
those physiological responses
recorded by on-person monitors
wired directly to the divers
immediately pre-dive
in order to prevent cheating)

Geyser Riding
(a competition held to see who can ride
the nitrogen geyser on Triton
the furthest without falling off
Anyone who can ride all the way to the top
will automatically receive a medal)

[Any record of other events,
and a record of who won these events,
has been lost]

John Pursch- A Poem

Radio Reef Alibi

In a certified coming and going of elided scribblings
on memorized compartments of thought patrol incursions
to otherwise interpolated domains,

left stranded by potentially sanctimonious gooey dodderers,
flipped to beckoning secondhand basement floor plunderers,
smocked in bleached coveralls;

this is how lobotic surgery begins and often ends,
purporting to be a spate of the artless codger’s
phony intentions (herbivorous, to be sure),

waddling breathless and overeager
into suppurating sores of porous undertaker snorts,

hassling churchgoing heretics with alms requests
for albumin in radio reef alibi resort carafes,

flotation be crammed in sneezed comportment bellhop drift
of staggering cranberry walks up filling station urinals
and paginated treetop dizziness charades,

to lifelong lunacy in tic marauder melancholy
itch machine expulsion’s expository demitasse
of demolition burpee bungee humpback dotage
namesake placard wherewithal,

held high aloft in sacred acrimonious regard
for elfin telephone entirety.

John Pursch lives in Tucson, Arizona. Twice nominated for Best of the Net, his work has appeared in many literary journals. A collection of his poetry, Intunesia, is available at Check out his experimental lit-rap video at He’s @johnpursch on Twitter and john.pursch on Facebook.

Ayaz Daryl Nielsen- Three Poems

Time-spawned caravans of martyrs,
those who died for others, arriving 
through forgotten graveyard portals 
Clear, pungent story-tellers of the sacred 
within our peeled and cored images.

Younger brother, born                              
a bit different and                                 
all the more lovable 
because of supposed 
disabilities, told us 
fairies danced upon 
his window sill during
nighttime’s full moons,
that they wanted him 
to live with them. . .
and he does. 
Moonlit nights,
sister and I slip 
out the back door
to dance and sing
with brother and
his beloved fairies 
Mother, with her 
all-seeing cat-like 
eyes, her pointed 
ears covered by 
naturally blue hair, 
has cookies, cocoa, 
hugs, kisses for all, 
while dad just grins, 
playing his lyre 
and panpipe.

eager and waiting 
on porches and doorsteps
these fairies, zombies 
and witches, princesses, 
heroes and vampires
gap-toothed presence 
of our genuineness

Denny E. Marshall- Three Poems

Three Haiku
the deep caves of mars
hide many ancient secrets
with untouched cities

four inch tall creature
measures a half-mile in length
enjoys a long life

astronaut spacesuit
in advertisement for sale
hardly ever worn

Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Janne Karlsson- A Cartoon

"Janne Karlsson is a crazy Swede. Upcoming books are Embracing the Flames (Leaf Garden Press) and "Wide Asleep, fast Awake (Bottle of Smoke Press), in collaboration with Adrian Manning. Other books are available on Amazon and/or Epic Rites Press. Website:

Monday, October 5, 2015

Alan Catlin- Three Poems

Donnie with Baby and Cows

The cows look superimposed
beneath this makeshift shelter:
part flying saucer, part mold
and moss covered inverted metal
dish receiving transmissions
from above and funneling them
directly into the ground through
metal support poles or siphoning
random signals into the irregular
barriers of an electrified fencing,
cored hot water heater, or large
stump roots decorated by cast
aside exhaust system pipe, junked
car parts and farm effluvia, jury
rigged to form something like
a whole, with the idea that nothing
reusable will ever go to waste.
What do the cows care? They are
among the dumbest creatures on God's
good earth, a sentiment shared,
no doubt, by farmer Donnie cradling
a babe in arms, both smiling for
the camera; a family album keepsake
or is the picture to be digitally
re-mastered and transmitted to warn
off all the others still in outer space?

He looks like  someone
too weird for The Rocky
Mountain Horror Show
though he could be
posing for the cover photo
for a life work in progress:
My Own Private Loony Tunes.
The thing around his neck
might be described as
a necklace, an ornament
more appropriate for frontier
days on the Great Plains, or
in portraits of chieftains
and warriors by George Catlin
and others, that is if the Indians
were into glitzy metal piece
working, instead of animal teeth
and claws. The rest of his
ensemble has a custom fit
feeling to it: tight pants
to emphasize his considerable
bulge, though whoever designed
the top unwisely forgot buttons
to close over his bare chest.
The cool gloves almost save
serious style points lost by
the pants and top, cut as they
are with a rakish sleeve that
slides over the too short arms
of the jacket; it would be wise
not to ask him about the ray gun
clutched for action in his right
hand in case it might be real.

Firefighters 1935

They are dressed in
outrageous uniforms: jackets
that look to be of a fabric
like burlap cut several sizes
too big, pants they must walk
on to move, hands covered
by oven mitts, heads potato
sacks with small eye holes
removed well above their
foreheads, an outfit that might
be useful for warding off heat
or blending in with adobe walls
in case their transformation has
been completed so that they
may be sacrificed to alien invaders
or Grade B movie, atomic ray
exposed, mutant creatures
the size of school buses,
all those outsized tarantulas,
iguana, prehistoric toads invading
border towns just this side
of the desert not unlike original
Star Trek peons in red uniform
tops, those clothes of doom
marking the wearers as walking
dead men by the next reel.
But this photo is taken in 1935,
years before the first atomic
tests, red menace scares, TV
melodramas, huge spikes in
cancer tumor deaths  and these
men have a real job to perform,
crippled by their clothes,
as they approach the scene,
the fires that await them.

JD DeHart- Two Poems


Conversation broke
into sudden pieces.

Sky high, the world
around them on the distant
planet goes missing.

Spun out of control,
a trap they never suspected
from the other sentient race.


He was one of them
until the crime he never
heard about

A small break in custom
that would have been fine
on his home world,
a simple gesture, incorrect

So now he has no choice
but to wander the landscape
and turn over stones.
JD DeHart is a writer and teacher.  His chapbook, The Truth About Snails, is available from RedDashboard.