Stephen Jarrell Williams loves to write for the forgotten world with dreams of hope.  He can be found on Twitter X @papapoet.

99% Acetone

I don’t paint my nails
But I buy super strength nail & tip remover
Only if it contains 99% Acetone
If you know, you know
If you don’t, well, you might learn something

If you smoke cocaine in it’s freebase form and use the same pipe for a while, cocaine builds up inside it.

You can scrape it out, but you don’t always get it all or even a lot, but with acetone it’s thorough, run it through your pipe and let that dry on a mirror and you’ve got yourself a free little session for the evening.

Call me a crackhead druggy whilst you stick roids in your arse with shock needles, call me whatever you want whilst you snort stepped on street cocaine with a key 

Jacques LaCey is an amateur racket maker, a wordsmith of questionable talent and a modern day acid casualty, currently working from Spahn Terrace.

THE JOY OF THIS MAGIC

I rushed home from work & just slumped
Right down here in my wrecked old armchair
& life felt just about right. My body craved
Rest as my right hip & leg ached like the old
Man I’m rapidly turning into would expect
But after a late dinner my mind turned to this
Again. This sweet glorious thing that seems
Somehow to have returned to me tonight as
The word tumbles from my mind out onto this
Page just like they did when I first landed down
Here in this insane asylum by the edge of the
Sea that, still, one day I dream of escaping but
With the world the way it is right now tell me
Somewhere I can go…

Bradford Middleton lives in Brighton, UK.  Recent poems have appeared in River Dog Zine, Back Room Poetry ‘Rebel’ Anthology, Beatnik Cowboy and Dreich Magazine.  His most recent chapbook came out early 2023 from the mighty fine Alien Buddha Press.  He tweets occasionally @BradfordMiddle5.

Fire Drill

You whisper “Fire!”
At the edge of my perception
Not a shout nor a warning
Just a promise of illumination
No shadow
Each crevice exposed
“Fire!” I think I heard this…
No “calmly walk to exit safely”
No line for roll call
This is an annealing flame
Run
Not away
But into it now
Burn away the useless things
I think it was you…
Who else would care enough
To see me pure?

MH Clay lives and works in Dallas, Texas. He has a poetry page at https://madswirl.com/author/mhclay/.
His poetry chapbook, Perhaps This Rain, was published in 2007. He has published two poetry collections;
sonoffred, Rebel Poetry in Ireland, 2015 and Angst, Mad Swirl Press, 2016 with a second edition released
in 2022 (both are available on Amazon).

Luis lives in California and continues to  work in the mental health field in Los Angeles. His poems have appeared in Ariel Chart, Blue Collar Review, Escape Into Life, Fixator Press, and Kendra Steiner Editions.

HA-HA

Romeo is bleeding
Juliet’s gunned him down
Midsummer-madness
Because the night
Winter’s tale- her recovery
Winter’s tale- his redemption
In spring- bullet dreams
broken hearts of glass
it’s a Billy the kid and Pat Garrett love song
approaching one another’s heart

Mike Zone is the Chief Operator of BIONIK PU$$Y. The former Editor in Chief of
DUMPSTER FIRE PRESS. The author of over a dozen books of poetry and fiction:
SKULL MY DAISY, FUCK YOU: A FUCKING POETRY CHAP, SHEDDING DARK
PLACES (almost) & THE EARTH WAS SHAKING FOR DAYS. Along with co-authoring
RAZORVILLE with fellow poet and publisher Shannon Lynette. His work has been
published hundreds of times being featured in: MAD SWIRL, FEVERS OF THE MIND,
BLACK SHAMROCK, FIXATOR PRESS, HORROR SLEAZE TRASH, PUNK NOIR, A
THIN SLICE OF ANXIETY, RYE WHISKEY REVIEW and CULT CULTURE MAGAZINE.
He scrapes by in Grand Rapids, Michigan.

Apparition Poem #1547

this is
what
words
amount
to—
festivals
of ash,
collapsed
into urns,
held
up by
timid folk
for the
bold to
scatter.

Adam Fieled is a writer based in Philadelphia. Blazevox re-released his
e-book “Beams” in 2025. A magna cum laude Penn grad, he edits P.F.S.
Post.

Ya Got Treasure Or Ya Don’t

In realising that every single person
‘Born’… is a potential
‘Diamondiferous Kimberlite’
… we search for
‘Depth’ of Character,
Natural ‘Intuition’,
Independent ‘Intelligence’,
and Rebellious, Pioneering ‘Spirit’.
There are Internal (Maze) Doors
to be ‘Opened’… one by one…
a Progress needing Drive,
Dedication, and Determination.
The term ‘Artist’ is a Label
… given (Collectively)
to Individuals… following
an INSTINCTUAL Undercurrent
‘Riding Shotgun’ with Composition.

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”, collection of shorter fiction “Kicking Back Drunk ‘Round The Candletree Graves”, and full-length poetry collections “The Dark Side Of British Poetry: Book 1 of Urban, Cinematic, Degeneration”, “It Is Big And It Is Clever: Book 1 of A Punk Rock Hostile Takeover” and “South Wales Outlaw: Book 2 of A Punk Rock Hostile Takeover” are all available by Close To The Bone Publishing.

What to do (when the nematodes swarm)

You have to start somewhere. We all
knit with a different technique. Cooler
paint colors help the walls to recede.

This breathing room is crucial. It serves
as a practical resting spot for extra fluid,
explains what the five love languages are

in a language that isn’t one of them, a
general phenomenon that has nothing to
do with the Baader-Meinhof phenomenon.

Lack of sleep can make staying in bed
tempting, trying to gauge how long before
the concierge starts to admit the crowd
gathered in the lobby waiting for words
of wisdom from you, or your autograph.

Recent work from Mark Young has appeared in Home Planet News, Utsanga.it, Moss Trill,
Synchronized Chaos, dadakuku, Half Day Moon Journal, Mad Swirl, Scud, The Prairie Review,
International Times, & Lothlorien Poetry Journal.

Daydreamer

Captured in a car seat
Driving in the city
The gasp of praying trees
Chiselled out of glass
Dashboard speaking neon
And headlights
Dipped in brick.
I see pixelated stars
Like vintage video games
Tangled in my mind,
With fire inside my fists.
I’m a menace on the road
As I drive in rusty chains—
Crashing comes so easy
When I’m steering through the clouds.

Tim Frank’s’ debut chapbook is, An Advert Can Be Beautiful in the Right Shade of Death (C22 Press ’24) His sophomore effort is, Delusions to Live By (Alien Buddha Press ’25)