Brandon Theis- A Poem

Memo Random: of boats and bots

JJ P’Astor45, titan of the time reserves, recruits Nike La Te La23, to become 'the opponent de jour' - aka a catalyst for the class of ‘richest men in the world’. The four sphere’s fear hysterics ventilate hubris - an over-reaction to the FedRes Robotics Club.

Real fate occupation detractors, such as Benji Googleheim36, and Ivana Straus5, shifted the boards positron's so heavily, swap space got stained glassy, locked in an hour of ice loops, sinking ole titans’ lair. Timeless rift departing was now a Lucid State Dystopia of slower expectorants.

Bots’ Club be damned, gurgling pulse prayers unheeded, reruns de-ice the whole zone, and still the phase corruption barfs out more burbling version queues. Somehow the sticky power supply substation Nike23 designed causes infinite Roosey Velvet charm marauders to call up ole JP Mortgain (a physical space assignee) and they reset the coils back to freeze, unlatching Gee-Z units at an alarming pace...well sometimes it was a pace, other times were snake like, still others wrapped up pi and fell back inward, revealing images of the queue constructors. 

John Pursch- Two Poems

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 http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/whiteskybooks. Check out his experimental lit-rap video at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l33aUs7obVc. He’s @johnpursch on Twitter and john.pursch on Facebook.

Calypso Glimpse

Life steeps in hot temporal manifolds, steadying the landing craft for incoming bulletins of punch card boardroom peg leg insurrection, casting off saddle points of pure inflected love.

She pins her hopes on ankle-deep mirage release in mirrored steam pipe elegance, tossed to Tuesday somersaults by cats of putty neigh denial, spending meatball sawed-off taxidermy codes on wishful tankard dreams, catching vinyl octagons within a weir of polyester burial.

Slowly, imperceptibly, the days invade Lost Annulus from Days Ago again, again, against the grainy flim-flam shot put canister of aging film reality, bending light speed torpor into pedaled cyclic repartee of birth and tethered tomahawk inclusion beef, flooding the troposphere with Tropicana calling cards, scars of forced derision teeth, and putative suggestions.

Fending off an attache in grimy zero discotheque entanglement of fanciful endorphin crushed valise embodiment, repeatable deliveries of biped boneyard bric-a-brac believe in bubble-barreled gutshot stratagems of birth, rebirth, and cool conceptual concatenation of karmic castaway Calypso glimpse.

Cured Robotic Uncle

Stop to chalk the going rate for sweaty udders, fishing long and clean to newts imbued with footsteps, crossing chest cadaver clothesline cleats within a christened boatswain’s deftly padded stockade.

She vitiates illegal rumination, hiding coarse eternal paving bones beneath a cloudy moon to swoon for graveyard roller goats in smiles of blithely buttered toeholds into victuals of consciousness.

Plentiful watchband kinks eradicate a shucking ham for coiled emotive anagrams of restless spoiler steel, clapping at funereal guys in distant handspring tributary knowledge, bought beside a cryptic technicality of formulated incense.

Intervals paste eternal mist to static meeting progeny, reflecting evenly distributed glance machines in lips of slickly bottled cars that speedily protrude.

Heaven winks in quietly chewed pastries, plastic seethes from wartime thuds to uttered bombast mistletoe, to chosen gauze container mints, to hinted sigh replacement language consecration bumps, to cutesy pylon swerve in cured robotic uncle Frisbee, notched to crimson emblem touch entendre, calcifying reindeer.

“Enjoy!” a screaming spaceman ad libs from rolling charismatic rhododendron, glasses propped above imputed eyebrow color, caramel to waxed umbilical élan.

Charles Rammelkamp- A Photo

                                                                "Head Case"

Richard Schnap- A Poem

ABYSS

I once knew two hells
Each ruled by a devil
Competing to possess my soul

As if it was the prize
In a game of skill
That both of them rarely lost

The one that sealed me
Within a locked cage
To dance like a trained ape

The other that bled me
With a cold leech-like love
Until I became my own ghost

But in between the two
I found moments of peace
Where my agony oozed from my pen

And in those sweet times
I heard angels croon
That this too would come to pass

Scott Thomas Outlar- A Poem

One Night Pass

  

She bled crimson lust

with dragon breath

when the fire came

to wash my soul

to hell and back

with a one night pass

to fever dream city

as Satan moaned

at every touch of flesh

and hiss from fangs

that poured ecstatic venom

She laughed long and hard

with eyes lit up

as the sky wept down

in bullet point rain

straight to the vein

with mercury overload

singeing the chaos

of a symphony choir

in love with the siren

that remains a liar

but still gets the meal in the end

Stefanie Bennett- Three Poems

Stefanie Bennett has published several books of poetry & has poems appearing

in Illya’s honey, The fib Journal, Ink, Sweat & tears, The Provo Canyon Review,

Eskimo Pie, Poetry Pacific & others. Of mixed ancestry [Irish/Italian/Paugussett-

Shawnee] she was born in Qld., Australia. Stefanie’s latest poetry book “The

Vanishing” [2015] is published with Walleah Press & available from Walleah,

Amazon & Fishpond Books

 

 

 

A MYSTIC MOMENT    

 

... Thinking about

The ones

I’ve loved before,

Time passed

Slowly...

Parking

Its polyphonic

Pork-pie

Hat

In a field of

Verboten

Stone.

 

 

[First published in Haggard

& Halloo]

 

 

 

LEGACY for C.B.    

 

The dying of The Light

Had just

One wish:

 

A world

Less vain –.

 

 

 

TRAUMA       

 

... It struck me

On a wind-swept

Street

That “thought” –,

 

No matter how

Irrational

 

Could well become 

Reason’s

Somnambulistic

Mother...

 

 

j.lewis- Two Poems

j.lewis is an internationally published poet, musician, and nurse practitioner. His poetry and music reflect the complexity of human interactions, sometimes drawing inspiration from his experience in healthcare. When he is not otherwise occupied, he is often on a kayak, exploring and photographing the waterways near his home in California.

lake fog

i felt it in my sleep

lake fog laying siege

to near-defenseless thoughts

no dainty creeping in

on little cat-feet

the voracious mist

reeked of dead fish

and lost dreams

accused me of wasted days

forgotten loves

life half-lived

and hidden sorrows

roundness of dragon

let go your notions of wings

of long snaky bodies

scales and talons too--

let them go up in dragon flame

come to me

come

i am a roundness of dragon

head like an aging friar's

sun-touched and gleaming

over sumo-bellied beauty

and legs to make Rubens weep for joy

come to me

come

i will of course devour you

your stories, poems, tears

hopes, dreams

and lust (yes, i know how that burns)

every bit of you chewed slowly

the bones of your personality

picked clean by questioning

until the skeleton of your history

stands naked in my gaze

when i am satisfied

that you hold nothing more

to feed my endless curiosity

fatten my treasure-hoard of knowing

then i will whisper

go from me

go