John Pursch- Two Poems

Half Egg Time

Cows shed chromosomes,

pigs float in saucer foam,

Gray-Glo whale eye-eyes

ogle sallow drilling sites

of raw pituitary potion. 

Heated pint o’ legs a-drying, 

hybrids hover paralyzing

hefty hairy hoi polloi, 

scuppered into twisted boys 

of candy homo sapiens. 

You yourself are calmly shown 

polyurethane urethras, 

dying tutti-frutti pleas

in shellfish frowns 

and quacking sounds 

of alien abduction. 

Shave and sew in quiet orbit’s 

flying disco hypo climb, 

luminescent thighs absorb it,

just relapse in half egg time. 

Chimpanzee Debris

Trichinosis threads 

ethereal assiduity’s 

European hardtack spine, 

handing endorphins 

to funky umbilical prawns. 

Kookaburras ignite defaced dew lines, 

saturating posh cops with cranial insistence, 

shelving spaceports with inner tube leis. 

Pressing gowned cigarettes 

in vividly smocked alarms, 

we realize diurnal battery drainage, 

spilling sumptuous eagles where tariffs soil 

embalmed golf balls with sewing crabs. 

Washing handedness 

of noble orientation, 

spiriting away a stone floor, 

lapsing into false contusions, 

fisheries melt the air with 

ossified remains of mendable fins.

Stretchers stoop 

in umbral seclusion, 

swiping floral tin 

from forehead wearers.

Colin W. Campbell- A Poem

GREY WATCHER

I'm the Grey that watches you, 
there are many just like me, 
knowing everything you do. 
Can you see me in the sky? 

There are many just like me
in our alien agenda.
Can you see me in the sky 
you are in our arena.

In our alien agenda
knowing everything you do.
You are in our arena,
I'm the Grey that watches you.


 
BIO: Colin W Campbell
Colin escaped from the day job in Scotland and now writes very short fiction and poetry in Sarawak on the lovely green island of Borneo and faraway in Yunnan in southwest China. www.colincampbell.org and www.shortstory.mobi

Denny E. Marshall- UFO Haiku

UFO Haiku

Landing UFO
Occupant’s shade of purple
Not the color green



Landing UFO
Made bad choice of place to land
City skyscraper

 
UFO’s Landing
Earthlings are all unaware
Cyclones good cover

A.J. Huffman- Two Poems

Swimming Saturn’s Rings

She slips her skin, splashes through the atmosphere.

What’s left of her body dissolves into glistening matter,

dissipates, becoming part of the surrounding circumference.

Internal organs pulse like stars in formation yet to be named.

Light years away from where she began, she surfaces,

stares at surrounding curtain of blackened sky.  She wonders

what the light of celestial bodies feels like from a distance,

mourns those confined by gravitational pull.  They will

never know continuity in its purest form.

Red Sand Beach

I pretend I can breathe,

extract myself from protective coverings

necessary for travel.  33.9 million miles from home,

the distance to this temperate paradise where

I am immediately lighter,

require no anchor.  I lie

back, sink into the embrace

of blood-tinged dust, disappear into my own

imagination, my dream of diving

into waves that will never rise

on this deserted planet,

unless human hands interject, introduce

disastrous global warming effects on glacial caps. 

I shudder at the thought, or possibly the fading

daylight hours.  I rise to a distorted reality,

a clear image of earth moving to take a place

in the sky that used to belong to the moon.

A.J. Huffman has published six solo chapbooks and one joint chapbook through various small presses.  Her seventh solo chapbook will be published in October by Writing Knights Press.  She is a Pushcart Prize nominee, and the winner of the 2012 Promise of Light Haiku Contest.  Her poetry, fiction, and haiku have appeared in hundreds of national and international journals, including Labletter, The James Dickey Review, Bone Orchard, EgoPHobia, Kritya, and Offerta Speciale, in which her work appeared in both English and Italian translation.  She is also the founding editor of Kind of a Hurricane Press.  www.kindofahurricanepress.com

Michael Cluff- A Poem

Untitled

With the brilliant pink, white
and black good 'n' plenty Western sunset,
I realize the sky has split
for real
over on the plain above
the quagmire
this time,
and I do see
to the other side
and its indifferent poised
choler and gorgon stare
of reproach and long
pulverized peace
into a loneliness
that no logarithm
or pupate
can reconcile.

John Pursch- Two Poems

Buttered Idea Bread

Fortunates dissolve in airburst dreg dispersion rays, 

funneled up to cruising transport holding tanks, 

shuffled into communal anonymity, 

awaiting resequencing. 

No intention transits concrete 

pillar trapdoor malfeasance, 

everyday dungeon girth, 

ribcage contagion, 

biologic midden, 

bodily duress, 

toil to gruel infusion, 

sapped in saturated heat glow, 

mornings reclaimed to windowless towers, 

pinned to boxcar retreats in astute confusion, 

repacked deadened meat for televised brain transplant, 

bereavement complete in sleepless restitution. 

Hover nightly, 

buttered idea bread, 

vacuous signatory ignition, 

formless feed of headless munitions agreement, 

plundered human fuse box bursting syndrome, 

trust in beaker bleach, 

busted toothy grime, 

blacked to grinding metal wheels, 

breaking vents of alley tease,

guarantors in triplicate confusion, 

simulcasting glut in paucity.

Abdominal Essence

Sneezes put you in a city, 

unaware of your surroundings, 

flecked with streetlight splines 

and treed delight. 

Scars whiz past, 

urging on sinusoidal plunder, 

fueling replication’s dirge 

to dunce cap rituals, 

moribund and sagging 

in a dimly lit crawlspace 

of burnished embers. 

Churning exhaustion peels 

stamina from polished faces, 

furrowed with lame plaudits, 

creased to spoken incendiary tension, 

a testament to slow gestation’s 

endless causeway. 

Youth severs known nadirs 

into sleeveless cinders, 

set for hovercraft seizure, 

pasting ballast over 

headroom prowess shortfall. 

Frowning aprons fixate, 

bubbling lugubriously, 

advertising sworn allergens, 

sputtering organic statutes 

in coded numismatic bliss.

Breeding channels tunnel greed 

within specific creep of fault line passivity, 

growling at curtsying mastiffs. 

Salient bowers press heels 

to stop-sign collarbones, 

imitating shackled bystanders, 

staging burial tirades 

for pruned abdominal essence.

Denny E. Marshall- Three Poems

Eruptions On Io

Gushing out two hundred miles into space
Material from eruptions on Io
Speeds of two thousands miles per hour they race.
Gushing out two hundred miles into space
Sulfur and rock flowing at a fast pace
Molten activity of a volcano
Gushing out two hundred miles into space
Material from eruptions on Io


20/12 Vision

Earth has an expiration date
Who holds the keys to cosmic fate?
Mayan, Physic, Time travel elves
End of the world twenty twelve

End of the world unreported
Library goes unrecorded
Dusty volumes on doomsday shelves
End of the world twenty twelve

Book dated nineteen ninety nine
Long pages wait in six, six, six line
Futures voices twenty-one twelve
End of the world twenty twelve


Rocket Dreams

When dreams turn into spaceships
Do not need to be a scientist
All the controls work just fine
The images beyond describable
If you discover a nightmare
You can wake up anytime


Bio
Denny E. Marshall has had cover art, interior art, poetry, and fiction recently published.