Saturday, June 7, 2025

The predawn hunt for vision__ By Merritt Waldon



Throwing a grenade through the Stargate


Leaving behind the mindless hordes 

Of dreamless poets


I power walk across the folded

Universe 


Laughing to myself

About the flaming shit bag


Left in the writers guild of eternity’s 

Front steps

Dove in to a wormhole made of jazz

& Slid 


Back to Pistol City 

Just in time

For rendezvous

With the hounds

Of the goddess 


For the predawn hunt

For vision







Merritt Waldon is Southern Indiana poet who has been published in Road Dawgz, Sun Poetic Times,

The Brooklyn Rail, Be About It Zine, River Dog #1, Sparring with Beatnik Ghosts, Americans & others anthology fourth edition, Crisis Chronicles, Cajun Mutt Press, Thye Rye Whiskey Review, and Fearless!.

At midnight Christmas night 2020, cajun mutt press released Oracles from a Strange Fire by Ron Whitehead & Merritt. He lives in Austin, Indiana.



Monday, May 12, 2025

Stumbled Upon By Susan Isla Tepper


How many times

I’ve walked these streets, 

driven them, looked out 

at them from 

the side window of the car


These houses and gardens

the playing fields

all seem brand new

stumbled upon 

for the first time


The way a place appears 

in a dream and you wake up

shuddering—




Susan Isla Tepper is a twenty year writer and the author of 12 published books of fiction and poetry. Her most recent novel “Hair of a Fallen Angel” was released by Spuyten Duyil, NYC in early October. Check out the Official Video for this book on YouTube 

link: https://youtu.be/W2HVIc4NrqYriter 

Tepper has also written 5 Stage Plays. www.susantepper.com





Sunday, May 11, 2025

Black Witch By Strider Marcus Jones


the way you drink your beer

straight from the bottle-

my low civilisation could topple

over you.

some talking dirty in my ear

while you ride at full throttle,

i'm in deeper than the darkest shade of blue-

straight down the middle

head thrown back and giggle

bowstring

rocking

finger plucking

bluegrass fiddle-

harbour in oblivion

black witch of obsidian

born in that pavillion

the empire new.





Strider Marcus Jones – is a poet, law graduate and former civil servant from Salford,

England with proud Celtic roots in Ireland and Wales. He is the editor and publisher of

Lothlorien Poetry Journal https://lothlorienpoetryjournal.blogspot.com/. A member of

The Poetry Society, his five published books of poetry https://stridermarcusjonespoetry.wordpress.com/ reveal a maverick, moving between cities, playing his saxophone in smoky rooms.

  

His poetry has been published in numerous publications including: The Huffington

Post USA; The Crossroads Magazine, The Stray Branch Literary Magazine; Crack The Spine Literary Magazine;The Lampeter Review and Dissident Voice.


Saturday, May 10, 2025

I’ll Come To You By Alec Solomita


I’ll come to you if you let me.

I’ll obey the slightest sign

even in a dream.

I’ll come to you.





Alec Solomita is a writer working in the Boston area. His fiction has appeared in

the Southwest Review, The Mississippi Review, Southword Journal, among other

publications. He was shortlisted by the Bridport Prize and Southword Journal. His poetry

has appeared in Poetica, MockingHeart Journal, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, 

The Galway Review, and elsewhere, including several anthologies. His poetry

chapbook “Do Not Forsake Me,” was published in 2017. His full-length poetry book,

“Hard To Be a Hero,” was released by Kelsay Books in the spring of 2021. He is working on a new book.   








Tuesday, April 15, 2025

Two Soldiers Met Upon A Battlefield By Jesse Rucilez


Two soldiers met upon a battlefield,

In the midst of bloody war,

For days the battle raged,

Like no battle raged before,


Warily they strode,

Beneath a baleful sky,

Wondering who might live,

And wondering who might die,


As death lay all around,

Which neither could abide,

Taking no great comfort,

That The Lord was on their side,


Each fought to raise his weapon,

Lest the other act in haste,

But pride and self-control,

Kept their swords and sabers chaste,


For a moment neither spoke,

And the world refused to turn,

As each man eyed the other,

And their hearts began to yearn,


“Let us lay our weapons down,”

One man finally said,

And both of them complied,

So relieved of all their dread,


“Now let us sit upon this ground,

So sacred and so sad—”

“And let us speak as men,”

Neither good and neither bad,”


And so they sat and talked,

Though at first their tongues were pained,

Until at last they spoke,

Of all so unrestrained,


Would that they could laugh,

With naught but death in all their wake?

Would that they could smile,

All for heaven’s sake?

“Why so must we fight?”

One man said aloud,

“I grow weary of this bloodshed,”

Then grew silent … sullen … proud,


“I have wondered this myself,”

Said the other with a sigh,

“I’ve no wish to kill a one,”

And he seemed as if he’d cry,


“Yet you kill us without mercy!”

Said the man with heartfelt rage,

“What choice does my side have,

When it’s war that you must wage?”


The other thought it over,

For he couldn’t understand,

That his one and only answer,

Was the same as that poor man,


“I’ve no wish die,”

Said this wounded, thoughtful man,

“And I’ve no wish to kill,

Not one person in this land,”


The other man then smiled,

For his heart had spoken true,

“May the Lord above forgive me,

Yet I feel the same as you,”


“What then can we do?”

Asked the other with all haste,

For they knew they were but pawns,

Who could forever be replaced,


But in time they reached a plan,

To end their bloody war,

By fighting not each other,

But by fighting just once more,


At last they bid farewell,

And embraced as newfound brothers,

Then marched back to their camps,

And announced this to the others,


“Why must we fight and kill,

And die upon this earth?

When those that send us off,

Live with merriment and mirth?”


“And never face the truth,

As we wash our bloodstained hands,

And bury all our triumphs,

Whilst they steal from all the land?”


And with their fires lit,

Two armies marched along,

Not toward but separate ways,

With chants of right and wrong,


So surprised were they those kings,

At barbarians at their gates,

Bearing their own standards,

And avowed to seal their fates,


“What’s all this?” they cried,

“Tis not I you must abhor!

For in my name and God’s,

I have ordered you to war!”


But the soldiers wouldn’t listen,

At neither pleading nor command,

And swarmed into the castle,

To make their king a man,


And as men the kings stood trial,

And their crimes they both did face,

Of turning brother against brother,

And of bringing all disgrace,


“Guilty!” all did cry,

When the charges were decreed,

Even though they’d cheered for war,

When told of its great need,


Still their bloodlust was assuaged,

With each king condemned to die,

And the soldiers watched them burn,

As thunder filled the sky,


Thus with hearts at ease,

Both soldiers said their prayers,

And wished each other peace,

Unbroken through these years.





Jesse Rucilez was born in Reno, Nevada. Growing up, Jesse was an avid reader of Sherlock Holmes stories and Marvel Comics. Throughout his life, Jesse has mainly worked in the security industry, both in Seattle, Washington and Reno, Nevada, and taught self-defense for several years before deciding to focus on writing. Inspired by authors such as Harlan Ellison, Stephen King, and Kurt Vonnegut, he prefers to write literary horror and science fiction, exploring what he calls “the dark side of the American Dream.”


As well as having several self-published works available on Amazon.com, Jesse’s work has appeared in print and online in a variety of publications, including: Ramingo’s Porch, The Borfski Press, Orcs Unlimited, Empty Sink Publishing, The Rye Whiskey Review, The Abyss E-zine of Horror, The Dope Fiend Daily, Anotherealm, Idiot Free Zone, and Unlikely Stories.


Monday, April 14, 2025

Across A Table By Susan Isla Tepper

 This heart has been 

too many times

laid across a table


should have held

a round bread loaf or

fresh grapes in a pile


Gouged in a matter

of seconds 

this heart endured 


every rip

 the waterfall of blood

rushing down the sides


swamping the floor




Susan Isla Tepper is a twenty year writer and the author of 12 published books of fiction and poetry. Her most recent novel “Hair of a Fallen Angel” was released by Spuyten Duyil, NYC in early October. Check out the Official Video for this book on YouTube 

link: https://youtu.be/W2HVIc4NrqYriter 

Tepper has also written 5 Stage Plays. www.susantepper.com





Friday, April 4, 2025

Folks By Chad Parenteau

 

Country

needs 


six 

string 


circle

jerks


less 

than


this 

poem.





Chad Parenteau hosts Boston’s long-running Stone Soup Poetry series. His work has appeared in journals such as RĂ©sonancee, Molecule, Ibbetson Street, Pocket Lint, Cape Cod Poetry Review, Tell-Tale Inklings, Off The Coast, The Skinny Poetry Journal, The New Verse News, dadakuku, Nixes Mate Review and The Ugly Monster. He has also been published in anthologies such as French Connections, Sounds of Wind, Reimagine America, and The Vagabond Lunar Collection. His newest collections are All's Well Isn't You and Cant Republic: Erasures and Blackouts. He serves as Associate Editor of the online journal Oddball Magazine and co-organizer of the annual Boston Poetry Marathon. He lives and works in Boston.