Dollop
By Stephen Martin
Inside
my
broken
wrist
I weep
& sleep
ugly little dreams.
Outside
beetles & bottles
litter
black
into
Satan's
open suitcase.
Above the spitting
crow is
laughing
at my
shadow-
self
-inflicted poise.
Below
a polka drab
bouquet
of flies
a filthy mantra
begs
indifference.
Nov 8, 2010
Daredevils Covenant, R.Koppelberger
The Daredevils Covenant
By Ron Koppelberger
He had to stave of the terror of an amazing dare, the exposition of chance. His reliance on the savage choices he often made were addictive and difficult to fend off. Jackson Irish was a daredevil of sorts, he crusaded in dangerous dilemma and courageous disaster.
Jackson found himself near the approaching maelstrom of swirling soil, wheat bloom and erupting air. The tornado inched closer to him with each labored exhalation.
He had parachuted from the tallest building in the downtown Hammock, fifty stories high. Jackson had done the turkey trot with trains and approaching cars as well as hanging from lengths of knotted rope by the underbelly of an airplane. He had swallowed glass and nails, cockroaches and snails, and now, Jackson would ride the black sackcloth of a tempest in towering shadow. The darkness of a dirty demon in undeviating destruction, a tornado in full tilt.
As the monster approached the underpass he had a fortunate flash of inspired fear. His courage in doubt he wrested the rare, whimsical moment to the depths of a simple nervous expectation. He was confident in his abilities. The evidence of his purpose was his constructed resolve, borne of primal passions and the desire to conquer death. His disposition would define a miracle.
The twisted wreckage of an SUV flew over the top of the bridge and with a rending metal crash landed on the opposite side of the tow-lane highway. Jackson watched the tempest as it approached in screaming fury. In the final moment between life and certain death Jackson Irish leaped back beneath the bridge. The tornado roared overhead like a fright train and Jackson held fast to the huge steel I-beams.
The swirling demon continued across the landscape without Jackson as a passenger. Jackson was half-caste, a hybrid of sorts now. In benediction he had consulted with god swearing a covenant with life, in those final moments he had seen the darkness and it’s intention to possess his soul. For Jackson a miracle had occurred.
By Ron Koppelberger
He had to stave of the terror of an amazing dare, the exposition of chance. His reliance on the savage choices he often made were addictive and difficult to fend off. Jackson Irish was a daredevil of sorts, he crusaded in dangerous dilemma and courageous disaster.
Jackson found himself near the approaching maelstrom of swirling soil, wheat bloom and erupting air. The tornado inched closer to him with each labored exhalation.
He had parachuted from the tallest building in the downtown Hammock, fifty stories high. Jackson had done the turkey trot with trains and approaching cars as well as hanging from lengths of knotted rope by the underbelly of an airplane. He had swallowed glass and nails, cockroaches and snails, and now, Jackson would ride the black sackcloth of a tempest in towering shadow. The darkness of a dirty demon in undeviating destruction, a tornado in full tilt.
As the monster approached the underpass he had a fortunate flash of inspired fear. His courage in doubt he wrested the rare, whimsical moment to the depths of a simple nervous expectation. He was confident in his abilities. The evidence of his purpose was his constructed resolve, borne of primal passions and the desire to conquer death. His disposition would define a miracle.
The twisted wreckage of an SUV flew over the top of the bridge and with a rending metal crash landed on the opposite side of the tow-lane highway. Jackson watched the tempest as it approached in screaming fury. In the final moment between life and certain death Jackson Irish leaped back beneath the bridge. The tornado roared overhead like a fright train and Jackson held fast to the huge steel I-beams.
The swirling demon continued across the landscape without Jackson as a passenger. Jackson was half-caste, a hybrid of sorts now. In benediction he had consulted with god swearing a covenant with life, in those final moments he had seen the darkness and it’s intention to possess his soul. For Jackson a miracle had occurred.
Fall and Rain, M.Foster
Fall and Rain
By Meridith Foster
Fall and Rain
One and the same
They always complain
Another gloomy day
But I like it
Sleeping in
As the drops tap the roof
Staying warm under cover
And dreaming
By Meridith Foster
Fall and Rain
One and the same
They always complain
Another gloomy day
But I like it
Sleeping in
As the drops tap the roof
Staying warm under cover
And dreaming
Oct 28, 2010
The 31st, F.N. Stein
The 31st
Frank N. Stein
Boo! Time to get dressed up!
Eat some candy too!
Then walk around again and get some more candy.
Jump in the leaves
Then carve out a pumpkin
And put a candle in it
The doorbell rang
Another trick-o-treater
Cinderella, Batman, and the Statue of Liberty
Quite a trio.
Smiles all around
There they go.
Time for hot chocolate
What's on TV?
Frank N. Stein
Boo! Time to get dressed up!
Eat some candy too!
Then walk around again and get some more candy.
Jump in the leaves
Then carve out a pumpkin
And put a candle in it
The doorbell rang
Another trick-o-treater
Cinderella, Batman, and the Statue of Liberty
Quite a trio.
Smiles all around
There they go.
Time for hot chocolate
What's on TV?
The Third Party... H. Johnson
The Third Party
by Hilary Johnson
When it gets dark it's time for me to go to bed. I don't like watching television. It's too scary. All murder mystery and guns. I like the sex part but not that much. So I lay there in bed. Sometimes I read but it hurts my eyes and it's hard to find good books sometimes. So anyways I sit there and just look at the wall most of the time. And I talk to myself. But one day I heard an answer. And I looked at my cat and said, "Did you hear that?" And she said, "I didn't hear nothing you crazy old coot." And I said, "Don't be rude, kitty." And she said, "Whatever." Then a ghost tapped me on the shoulder and said, "That was me that you heard. I've been sitting here for ten years and finally decide to speak." I said,"I'm sorry, but I didn't even hear what you said." The ghost smiled and leaned in close to me and whispered, "I love you."
by Hilary Johnson
When it gets dark it's time for me to go to bed. I don't like watching television. It's too scary. All murder mystery and guns. I like the sex part but not that much. So I lay there in bed. Sometimes I read but it hurts my eyes and it's hard to find good books sometimes. So anyways I sit there and just look at the wall most of the time. And I talk to myself. But one day I heard an answer. And I looked at my cat and said, "Did you hear that?" And she said, "I didn't hear nothing you crazy old coot." And I said, "Don't be rude, kitty." And she said, "Whatever." Then a ghost tapped me on the shoulder and said, "That was me that you heard. I've been sitting here for ten years and finally decide to speak." I said,"I'm sorry, but I didn't even hear what you said." The ghost smiled and leaned in close to me and whispered, "I love you."
Gnomes, G. Kelly
Gnomes
by Geoffrey Kelly
Teeny Weenie suckers and a pretty little pie in the summmer when it's snowing count to seven tell a lie. Eat a pancake paint a fence. fart on pillows. Alabama. Stinky dog. Hairy pudding, in a blanket. Hairy lips. Even flow. Where did they go?
by Geoffrey Kelly
Teeny Weenie suckers and a pretty little pie in the summmer when it's snowing count to seven tell a lie. Eat a pancake paint a fence. fart on pillows. Alabama. Stinky dog. Hairy pudding, in a blanket. Hairy lips. Even flow. Where did they go?
Hours of Lonely, Anonymous
Hours of Lonely
Anonymous
i see a reflection
of hate and indecision
temptation, doubt
belonging of vomit
rubbish and treasures all one
oh brother
give me a beer
Anonymous
i see a reflection
of hate and indecision
temptation, doubt
belonging of vomit
rubbish and treasures all one
oh brother
give me a beer
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