BROKEN OMNIBUS By Strider Marcus Jones

in

out

about

another

day

of centrifugal

do

and

doubt

at home

in town

going down.

so out

the sun

like some

great

worshipped one

looks on

this

primitive

petri dish

thinking

back to the

beginning

one time

thinning

bliss

in opus

of ordinal

opulence-

such unfurled pus

unevenly spread

like jam on coronation crust

seduced by alchemy's golden thread

to Mephistopheles sun splashed bed

but seeking exodus

with the Creator

back to nature

in a broken omnibus.

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.

Even The Best Known Is Truly Unknown By Leon Drake

They tell me I am known.

Which is funny.

Because the cashier at the grocery store

still asks if I've found everything alright

as though I haven't spent twenty years

trying to lose it.

A poem gets published.

Someone shares it.

Someone quotes a line

beside a photograph of a sunset

that had absolutely nothing to do with me.

For a brief moment,

I become important enough

to be forgotten by strangers.

That seems to be the arrangement.

A man spends half his life

building a name,

then watches it float away

like a grocery receipt

caught in a parking lot windstorm.

The birds know more about me

than most readers.

At least they see me regularly.

The crows inspect my habits.

The gulls critique my posture.

One sparrow has followed my decline

with admirable dedication.

Meanwhile,

someone introduces me as

"a well-known poet"

and I nearly choke on my coffee.

Known?

I can't remember why I walked

into the kitchen this morning.

My own reflection

looks vaguely familiar at best.

The truth is,

everybody is a mystery

wearing a nametag.

Some are simply printed

in larger fonts.

The celebrated,

the forgotten,

the drunks,

the saints,

the editors,

the men feeding ducks

behind abandoned shopping centers.

all of us carrying entire universes

that never make it into conversation.

So yes,

perhaps I am known.

In the same way

a lighthouse is known

by ships that never step ashore.

They recognize the light.

They never meet the keeper.

And even the best known among us

remain wonderfully,

ridiculously,

unknown.

Leon Drake's work has appeared in Spill The Words Press, Synchronized Chaos, Horror Sleaze Trash, S.A.V.A. Press and The Crossroads Magazine, The Rye Whiskey Review and The Literary Underground.

When words become shallow~ By Tracey Sivek

Vacant eyes with recessed soul engage with the daily routine outlined.

Forged from cellular memory navigating life from the shell and shadow. Always observing, avoiding the engagement. Passive grey.

Vulnerability suppressed the flame. Clouded the undertow of passion. Leaving a sadness imbedded deep within the well of souls.

Release

Decay

Pause

Seeking redemption, the reigniting of life force. Seeking the touch…simplistic yet bold.

Remembering myself here in the fields of flowers and honeybees. Sipping wine while gazing at the blue skies. The sound of nature soothes my senses.

Here the void doesn’t exist. Life spills out joy within every breath.

I see you and I sharing the depths of passion here..in this, my place of serenity.

Completion.

Tracey is a native of Northern Michigan. 

 She has work on Writerscafe and Cosmofunnel. She is also the Author of "Zero Evidence of Life" found on lulu.com.

Her publications include .

The Abyss, Under The Bleachers , The Rye Whiskey Review and The Dope Fiend Daily.

Her latest book For The Love Of Lily is currently available on Amazon.

https://a.co/d/0hSH9eG9

ALL THE BLANKETS by Susan Isla Tepper

Cousin Emma grabbed 

all the blankets

and took up most of the bed,

I just had a little bit of sheet

Her bed—

so I s’pose…

I froze the whole night long.

Next time I had to stay there

I found her secret letters

from her army boyfriend

tucked back in her sock drawer.

I grabbed a bunch and stuffed

them into my underwear

reading in Aunt Molly’s blue 

tile bathroom with the door locked.

Most were a lot of crap

about his day- to- day

at some base in the south:

guns and drills and bad food, 

an itchy uniform.

Down the years 

one thing stuck with me

The way he signed off every time:

No Boys Whatsover!

I read that in letter after letter

and it made me all tingly.

This guy is creepy I thought,

getting even more tingly.

Not once did he write:

 Emma I will love you forever.

Maybe Emma secretly pined

for a boy to go to the prom, 

Or just a boy to go to the movies 

and share a tub of popcorn

like her girlfriends did.

Eventually that war ended

and he came back. 

Thick dark hairs coated

his arms in those short sleeve shirts

he favored.

She called him Dommie

and they married. 

Her blonde sort of good looks  

washed out in a couple of years

and a couple of kids.

Emma began drinking like her old man.

Uncle Lenny always red-faced,

pulling her onto his lap.

Maybe sharing that bed with me

Emma foresaw her future.

Which was why she froze me out.

Susan Isla Tepper is a twenty year writer in all genres. Her most recent book, a Novel titled Hair Of A Fallen Angel, came out in the fall from Spuyten Duyvil Books, NYC. Tepper has also written 7 stage plays. Her third play titled EVA & ADAMO will present at The Tank, NYC, early fall. www.susantepper.com

Candle Couplets #1 By Rhiannon Waldon

Dance and sway,

O wick to fray.

You always knew 

How to light up a room

Up above the table-top

You waltz until your ember stops.

That light will fade but until then

Your luminescence jigs and spins.

Rhiannon Waldon is a 19 year old aspiring writer from Scottsburg Indiana. She has been writing poetry since 14 as an outlet. She is a hobbyist of many arts: Drawing, painting, writing, and playing guitar. Her dream is to become an engineer while balancing work with artwork.