Carl "Papa" Palmer of Old Mill Road in Ridgeway, VA now lives in University Place, WA. He is retired military, retired FAA, now just plain retired enjoying life as Papa to his grand descendants. Carl, Hospice volunteer, is a former Pushcart Prize and Micro Award nominee. MOTTO: Long Weekends Forever I received a cookie cutter form letter of rejection from the editor for someone else's poem in my SASE. |
Brett Stout is a 38-year-old writer and artist originally from Atlanta, GA. He is a high school dropout and former construction worker turned college graduate and paramedic. He writes now while mainly hung-over on white lined paper in a small cramped apartment in Myrtle Beach, SC. He has published several novels of prose and poetry including Lab Rat Manifesto, and has been featured in a vast range of various media including the University of California and Litro Magazine UK. |
The Counterinsurgency of Apathetic Elements
There is a singular light
that goes
out
near
the dead end streets
known as my life,
insects caress
topographical discount iron
and stretch marks
the handicap bushes
the cracked gray scale flooring
Asian massage therapy
behind closed screened doors
flashing red bulbs
no entrance
raccoons
high on strawberry Pop-Tarts
and hallucinated fire
the cigarette lights itself
under
June’s diseased solstice
the doom metal keys
lock distinct
no exits and orthodox padlocks
the dumpsters are full
and breeding
shut the fuck up
go home
clock out
the numbers
the endless numbers
in digital and analog format
the water is on cold
cotton towels smell funny
drool aimlessly
and
bleed
from your gums
the apocalypse is now
sleeping
comfortably in my bed
7:27 a.m.
redux,
there is a singular light
that goes
out
near
the dead end streets
known as my life.
XXX
that goes
out
near
the dead end streets
known as my life,
insects caress
topographical discount iron
and stretch marks
the handicap bushes
the cracked gray scale flooring
Asian massage therapy
behind closed screened doors
flashing red bulbs
no entrance
raccoons
high on strawberry Pop-Tarts
and hallucinated fire
the cigarette lights itself
under
June’s diseased solstice
the doom metal keys
lock distinct
no exits and orthodox padlocks
the dumpsters are full
and breeding
shut the fuck up
go home
clock out
the numbers
the endless numbers
in digital and analog format
the water is on cold
cotton towels smell funny
drool aimlessly
and
bleed
from your gums
the apocalypse is now
sleeping
comfortably in my bed
7:27 a.m.
redux,
there is a singular light
that goes
out
near
the dead end streets
known as my life.
XXX
The Abandonment of Xenon and Concrete
Post-modern dinosaurs
can now read
fluent Times New Roman
and the New York Times,
the idiocy peninsula
surrounding me
on all three
sides,
information is the enemy,
the body
the devil,
the passion of kleptomaniacs
I should’ve had a
back-alley lobotomy
to match your previous
winter feticide
sustainably sourced
decaying springs
and recyclable rotting teeth,
the fangs of a perverse
new American,
1-800
911
unlisted numbers to nowhere
go kcuf yourself,
a warning,
choking victims and homeless winos
need not apply.
XXX
can now read
fluent Times New Roman
and the New York Times,
the idiocy peninsula
surrounding me
on all three
sides,
information is the enemy,
the body
the devil,
the passion of kleptomaniacs
I should’ve had a
back-alley lobotomy
to match your previous
winter feticide
sustainably sourced
decaying springs
and recyclable rotting teeth,
the fangs of a perverse
new American,
1-800
911
unlisted numbers to nowhere
go kcuf yourself,
a warning,
choking victims and homeless winos
need not apply.
XXX
The Liaisons of Concrete and Halogen
The lemons in my eyes
burn the sclera
and light cigarettes
and overpriced scented
candles
in symmetrical rooms
and
time that has no meaning
don’t recycle
don’t refill
leave now
with everything broken,
a barren cadmium red clay
field
Georgia is a mere hallucination
the penitentiary safari
corn dogs and plastic fruit
lifting obese equinoxes
thoracic spine now
deformed
a cervical spine now
broken,
the abandoned trash piles up
in my brain
the front of unlocked doors
and unused holes of past glory,
sun tinge the jellyfish
emasculate the tentacles
and
Lysol the DNA
I possess endless nothing in my hand
and drop chaos on
the floor
along with lint and decaying skin cells,
ride the splinters
to nowhere
and somewhere
perch and lack vision
red
blue
and
green
the destructive lies of color.
XXX
burn the sclera
and light cigarettes
and overpriced scented
candles
in symmetrical rooms
and
time that has no meaning
don’t recycle
don’t refill
leave now
with everything broken,
a barren cadmium red clay
field
Georgia is a mere hallucination
the penitentiary safari
corn dogs and plastic fruit
lifting obese equinoxes
thoracic spine now
deformed
a cervical spine now
broken,
the abandoned trash piles up
in my brain
the front of unlocked doors
and unused holes of past glory,
sun tinge the jellyfish
emasculate the tentacles
and
Lysol the DNA
I possess endless nothing in my hand
and drop chaos on
the floor
along with lint and decaying skin cells,
ride the splinters
to nowhere
and somewhere
perch and lack vision
red
blue
and
green
the destructive lies of color.
XXX
Vintage Love Letters from a Misanthrope
your letters
postmarked to Georgia
go nowhere in 1979
kleptomania tendencies
neon infused atomic bomb shelters
the
glass stranglehold of
destroy
recycle and rebuild,
I let my nation down
once again
so fucking what
300 million more
generic humanoids
endlessly watching
restlessly
waiting
to take your place
in grocery store lines
and uncomfortable plastic chairs,
the inside of outside
failing schools of thought
racist graffiti
the standardized vandalism of cerebellums
broken #2 pencils
the black lead
permeates in stained porcelain
blood
urea
and nitrogen
dunce caps rarely worn
sit in lonely corners
and stare at cold pizza
bleach the souls for the
pep rallies of conformity
the corrosion begins every Friday
1 p.m.
Eastern Standard Time,
Autistic children found wondering
about what?
dirt roads are the GPS
to
generational poverty
and guns posing as gods
absolute loyalty
to the general of dollars
earns
discounts and a promised future
reward points that is
for cheaper gas
and
high fructose corn syrup
economic sieg heil,
the fatal crash
rarely witnessed
just sit here
and stare
at
four slightly dirty white walls
there’s nothing much else to do
the nightly news watches me
I
don’t watch it,
fill in the blanks
with cockroach conspiracies
slander the future
with
broken brass and reddened scar tissue.
XXX
postmarked to Georgia
go nowhere in 1979
kleptomania tendencies
neon infused atomic bomb shelters
the
glass stranglehold of
destroy
recycle and rebuild,
I let my nation down
once again
so fucking what
300 million more
generic humanoids
endlessly watching
restlessly
waiting
to take your place
in grocery store lines
and uncomfortable plastic chairs,
the inside of outside
failing schools of thought
racist graffiti
the standardized vandalism of cerebellums
broken #2 pencils
the black lead
permeates in stained porcelain
blood
urea
and nitrogen
dunce caps rarely worn
sit in lonely corners
and stare at cold pizza
bleach the souls for the
pep rallies of conformity
the corrosion begins every Friday
1 p.m.
Eastern Standard Time,
Autistic children found wondering
about what?
dirt roads are the GPS
to
generational poverty
and guns posing as gods
absolute loyalty
to the general of dollars
earns
discounts and a promised future
reward points that is
for cheaper gas
and
high fructose corn syrup
economic sieg heil,
the fatal crash
rarely witnessed
just sit here
and stare
at
four slightly dirty white walls
there’s nothing much else to do
the nightly news watches me
I
don’t watch it,
fill in the blanks
with cockroach conspiracies
slander the future
with
broken brass and reddened scar tissue.
XXX
An Ode to Truffle Shuffles and Tong Po’s
The blood oranges
are
on fire
in the Djibouti sands,
two cigarettes
and freedumb
with a side
of
glazed figs
and restitution,
the lion without
a heart
a concrete laden fighting man
and
eating hotdogs
on my TV
Saturday night
on the late Eastern Time Zone
shift,
lower the bucket
into the depths of despair
for
vintage pennies and children’s
bicycles,
my life as a Russian gulag
with one eye closed
holding candles
and dynamite
designer 80’s wardrobes
metallic smiles
and
don’t move
you subhumans,
four quarters equal
three dollars
in Oregon
abandon the toupees
like unwanted children
rivers of deception andWD-40
hey you guys
where did I leave my
heroin
and
that corporate pizza from last Tuesday,
Pepsi
is never truly free
sell your soul to
Peruvian maids
sweep
the dead skin cells inside
of bankrupt museums
suspenders that don’t choke
and
swords that never kill
a sloth’s love
in extremely slow motion,
a fifty dollar bill
erodes under quicksand
barbed wire
door handles
my name is all over
it
funny farms and
paternity tests,
a bald man chased
me
so I ran so far away
with
a Flock of Seagulls
my future is in Los Angeles
arriving LAX
a caged and pissed
off
baboon that needs a slight trim,
Attila the Hun
Nietzsche
and
Superman
all need an inauthentic hug.
The blood oranges
are
on fire
in the Djibouti sands,
two cigarettes
and freedumb
with a side
of
glazed figs
and restitution,
the lion without
a heart
a concrete laden fighting man
and
eating hotdogs
on my TV
Saturday night
on the late Eastern Time Zone
shift,
lower the bucket
into the depths of despair
for
vintage pennies and children’s
bicycles,
my life as a Russian gulag
with one eye closed
holding candles
and dynamite
designer 80’s wardrobes
metallic smiles
and
don’t move
you subhumans,
four quarters equal
three dollars
in Oregon
abandon the toupees
like unwanted children
rivers of deception andWD-40
hey you guys
where did I leave my
heroin
and
that corporate pizza from last Tuesday,
Pepsi
is never truly free
sell your soul to
Peruvian maids
sweep
the dead skin cells inside
of bankrupt museums
suspenders that don’t choke
and
swords that never kill
a sloth’s love
in extremely slow motion,
a fifty dollar bill
erodes under quicksand
barbed wire
door handles
my name is all over
it
funny farms and
paternity tests,
a bald man chased
me
so I ran so far away
with
a Flock of Seagulls
my future is in Los Angeles
arriving LAX
a caged and pissed
off
baboon that needs a slight trim,
Attila the Hun
Nietzsche
and
Superman
all need an inauthentic hug.
Categories
All
ADAM LEVON BROWN
AHMAD AL-KHATAT
BILLIE MCCORKLE
BRETT STOUT
BRIANA RICOTTA
CANDELIN WAHL
CARL "PAPA" PALMER
CAROL LYNNE KNIGHT
DAVID FLYNN
DEBORAH GUZZI
J D TREJO-MAYA
JIM ZOLA
JON ETTER
KARLO SEVILLA
KATHRYN STAUBLIN
KEITH BRUKHOLDER
KJ HANNAH GREENBERG
LOIS GREENE STONE
MICHAEL LEE JOHNSON
RENEE B. DRUMMOND - BROWN
ROBIN WYATT DUNN
SRIVIDYA PRASAD