The Disgruntled Elite

The Right before those Buggers
clapped me in wrist-irons
… I hurdled the counter
and yelled the word
… “Malcontent!”…
in a questioning manner,
over the Tannoy system
… and, over 20 people
in the Waiting Room…
raised their (Defiant) hands.
The ‘Truth’ is Adaptable,
a mere ‘Skirting-Lane’,
not a final Destination…
they’ll use your ‘Honesty’
against you… unless,
you ‘Outmanoeuvre’
their vile ‘Snakiness’
… with silent ‘Ladders’
to Stonewalled ‘Frustration’.

Paul Tristram is a widely published Welsh writer who deals in the Lowlife, Outsider, and Outlaw genres.  He wrote his first poem as a teenager following his release from the (Infamous) Borstal ‘HMP Portland’, and he has been creating Literary Terrorism ever since. His novel ‘Crazy Like Emotion’ is now available by Close To The Bone Publishing.

ignite scholarship semi-approval

tent beckons mesquite farce
bluish torch magnetized formula
fiendish tollbooth phantom red tide
agitprop crab legs ooh la la photosynthesis
cracked seminar theoretical snow plow
drift resolute unsolved oblong sniffer
short of policy intelligentsia busking veil
affair explicit anniversary socialite
unrealized aquatic futuristic sponge
wake cadres wince plutonium
directionless breathalyzer assault rent
dated due passed b/t lingerie candles
wieners horns tumbling fructose
syrup splashing gilded age bubble bath
manifested glory hole loveseat mob
court plea membrane dalliance
zoned pretense alabaster smoke
fill branch neat tidy torque
operatic shortcoming optional
clashing cash n’ carry hairy
scaly diving board scooter coat
clogged cab foot dimple leash
rigid discursive paradigms
bracket apocryphal unapproachable

Joshua Martin is a Philadelphia based writer and filmmaker, who currently works in a library. He is a member of C22, an experimental writing collective. He is the author most recently of the books O! fragmented glories (Argotist Ebooks), Prismatic Fissures (C22 Press), and peeping sardine fumes (RANGER Press). He has had numerous pieces published in various journals. You can find links to his published work at joshuamartinwriting.blogspot.com

PERMANENT, GROUNDED, PAINFUL— PLASTIC MOLD, DISCARDED DEBRIS

Plastic mold, discarded debris—
The most youthful, impressionable 
Years of my daughters’ lives
Fated betwixt black garbage bags,
Twigs, worn furniture, curbside dust—

A spattering of murky mud
Symbolizing thy stinging sentiments,
Mimicking extremities wrapping, 
Trying to conceal 
The abundant, 365-day gift, simple joy—

The thin, primary-colored mirror,
Bulky, off-white Fisher Price kitchen set
Where my eldest daughter once
Served imaginary pancakes, coffee,
Tangible memories with a stutter

Has been treated like leftover grass
After the lawn gleams freshly cut—
A piece of the past necessary for new
Growth yet permanent, grounded, painful—

Plastic mold, discarded debris.

Andrew Buckner is a multi award-winning poet, filmmaker and screenwriter. His short dark comedy/horror script Dead Air! won Best Original Screenwriter at the fourth edition of The Hitchcock Awards. A noted critic, and author, Buckner runs and writes for the review site AWordofDreams.com.

You In High Order

Imagine your access 
to a certain kind of dogged tenaciousness,
that puts you in a commanding position
with ideals lofty and upright
set aflame.

Captious rivals will try to bring a titanic mope.
Polysyllabic paupers will offer shiftless advice.
This groove is not for you.

Imagine certain aspects
of your most urgent problems,
encircled within distinct wreaths 
of workable solutions.
This would only be the beginning
of your decided advantage.

Linda Imbler is the author of nine paperback poetry collections and four e-book collections (Soma Publishing.) This writer lives in Wichita, Kansas with her husband, Mike the Luthier, several quite intelligent saltwater fish, and an ever-growing family of gorgeous guitars. Learn more at lindaspoetryblog.blogspot.com. 

Music

At fifty-plus, up-close, I meet my putto.
Edicts of a higher order sequester
me from such exposure until Lachy
chooses to spend three days.
 
He is born with an invisible hook.
Orchestration of his needs
and actualization merge
without a maestro’s baton.
 
His musical interludes
don’t incense me. In the folds
of his frown lie my failings,
in his chuckle my cerate.
 
His jousts require me to wear
no jambeau. In the immediacy
of his wants, I mortgage myself,
content as a chorus to his melody.

Sanjeev Sethi has authored seven books of poetry. He has been published in over thirty-five countries. He is the joint winner of the Full Fat Collection Competition-Deux, organized by Hedgehog Poetry Press, UK. He was recently conferred the 2023 Setu Award for Excellence. He lives in Mumbai, India.

A leopard left overnight

This rug is one-of-a-kind,
reminiscent of juicy grape-
fruit or freshly brewed
Ceylon tea. Has undergone
a rigorous selection process
which, although not valid

on its own, can still replace
a scientific approach to ta-
lent identification. Dealers
in diamonds & breeders of
German Shepherds swear
by it; though there is still

much discussion as to whet-
her the ancillary behavioral
interviews should have been
left unstructured in order to
provide outcomes of more
honesty & greater insight.

Mark Young was born in Aotearoa New Zealand but now lives in a small town on traditional
Juru land in North Queensland, Australia. He is the author of nearly seventy books, primarily
text poetry but also including speculative fiction, vispo, memoir, and art history. His most
recent books are un saut de chat published by Otoliths Books (Australia) in February 2024;
Melancholy, a James Tate Poetry Prize winner, published by SurVision Books (Ireland) in
March 2024; & two very recent free downloadable pdfs, eNumerations from Sandy Press &
to your scattered bodies go from Scud Editions.

The cuckoo

we joke about it –
my brother and sister. our mother
loves the cuckoo so much.
in the country in spring we occasionally
get sent a text with the words:
“it’s spring. heard the cuckoo”

she feels home in the mountains
on the west coasts of ireland;
leaves and ferns growing,
the steady propelling of turbines
like shells churning tides:

the occasional sound, like a flower overhead
would make if a petal could echo.
like a lilypad ringing in brass;
like a cymbal. I think
that they’re really nasty birds.

Please consider the attached poems; “The cuckoo”, “Transport”, “I come in”, “The romantic” and “Babe, I’m trying” for possible inclusion in a future edition of Fixator. Knowing your work (indeed, my writing appeared in some previous issues), I flatter myself that these will make a good fit for the magazine. All the works are original, insofar as anything is in modern poetry. 

The Evading Meaning

within the umbra searching
for answers, peregrinating withered forests
and destitute deserts, failing to find
an oasis or meaning. pointless gallivanting, meaningless
meanderings, not even barstools offer the same
comfort they once did. looking for things that
don’t exist, for comfort in frigid places, for
love in joints that sell everything but love. always the
same, wrong place right time, or the other way
around, or something, it never
matters; always something gotten wrong, it’s the drink
that keeps the futile search going, it’s why
bars exist, why barstools feel like home.

Currently residing in Greece, George Gad Economou has a Master’s degree in Philosophy of Science and is the author of Bourbon Bottles and Broken Beds(Adelaide Books), Of the Riverside(Anxiety Press) and Reeling Off the Barstool (Dumpster Fire Press). His words have also appeared, amongst other places, in Spillwords Press, Ariel Chart, Cajun Mutt Press, Fixator Press, Horror Sleaze Trash, Outcast Press, The Piker Press, The Beatnik Cowboy, The Rye Whiskey Review, and Modern Drunkard Magazine.

Post-truth

Out of the busker’s union
with that bristling smoker’s cough.

It happens that fast.
A birth into life.

I never understood what
post-truth was supposed to mean,
but I think I do now:

all the people, news, mechanisms
lying in one long birdsong.

Altogether.  In concert.
Like a collective conspiracy of
personal advancements.

That is as close as I can get,
want to get.

Distance is my saviour.
My very own preservation hall.

 

 

Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a Canadian-born author residing in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada with his wife and many mounds of snow.  His work can be found both in print and online in such places as: Evergreen Review, The New York Quarterly, Fixator Press, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Red Fez, and The Oklahoma Review.