Hive by John Drudge
Sweet gold
Rolled
And spread over
Nurturing
Wellsprings of life
The buzz of activity
Across time
Generations
Stuck together
In a single hive
The nature
Of shared existence
Sweet sustenance
And the sting
Of being
A Sign by Cord Moreski
Cord Moreski is a poet from New Jersey. His work has been proudly featured in As It Ought To Be Magazine, Eunoia Review, The Pangolin Review, Philosophical Idiot, The Rye Whiskey Review, The Silver Birch Press, and several other publications. He is the author of the chapbook Shaking Hands with Time (Indigent Press, 2018) and is currently working on a new project for 2020. You can follow Cord here: https://www.cordmoreski.com
A Sign
Leaning against
a warped wooden fence
on the side of my apartment
I take in fresh air
for the second time
in almost two weeks
as a radio
blares above me
from a neighbor’s window
about another
hundred cases confirmed
in the Garden State
another surge of hate crimes
and unemployment
across the nation
another opinion
disguised as a fact
another day
where the news
doesn’t sound
so new anymore.
I turn my head
and look around
for a sign
but there is no dove
preaching hope
on the power line
no sunshine
escaping
from the traffic of clouds
no wildflower
growing out
of the broken sidewalk.
Nothing
except for the sounds
of another breaking bulletin
and a crushed beer can
left wedged at the end of this fence
shaking with the wind
rattling like my heart.
2 Skeletons by Mike Knowles
Mike spent 40 years working mainly in comics, along with TV, Radio, animation and gonzo-style journalism for a “top-of-the-shelf” magazine, along with odd spells as a digital artist. Finally, there were the three gruesome years writing gags for comedians (even though they begged him not to. But what did THEY know about humour), in which he was cruelly subjected to the thick fug of cigarette smoke that permeated the working men’s clubs.
Infectious Poetry by Wanda Morrow Clevenger
Wanda Morrow Clevenger is a former Carlinville, IL, resident. Over 600 pieces of her work appear in 180 print and electronic publications–including 3 published chapbooks. This Same Small Town in Each of Us (2011 Edgar & Lenore’s Publishing), and two of a five-volume set where the hogs ate the cabbage – young and unadorned, no dyeing in machines (2018 – 2019 Writing Knights Press). She is currently serving as editor for U-Rights Magazine.
diabetic social groups
for six years I eavesdropped
on willful woe-is-me
before bailing on
the social groups
what support was to be had
when we were all facing
down the same sugar-
coated death
macabre poetry
I can see the macabre draw
of the chalk outline
the white-boned
toothy grin
wooing gristle
in its morbid glory
makes good poetry
an idée fixe
to solve a cold case
before the rigor
a pet hamster
still wriggling
in the mousetrap
Are You Ready for A Brand-New Beat?
By Mark James Andrew
Mark James Andrews continues to live and write on the borderline of Detroit most of the time. His latest collection of poems is Motor City is Burning & Other Rock & Roll Poems from Gimmick Press. His poetry has recently appeared or forthcoming in Trailer Park Quarterly, Chiron Review and the anthology RESPECT: The Poetry of Detroit Music.
Early days of the sick rose of death
red buds just popping on the shoot
and the green parade is shot down
piping, drumming and clogging
locked in step and locked down
are you ready for a brand-new beat?
maybe to jig on to the other side
of summer rat-a tat-tat
I say no, no, no.
I present my offering to the last saints
another shot of Tullamore Dew
for every guy, every girl
washed raw cracked hands raising up
up and away to call the pink slipped
waitresses conferring, sharing notes
on where to sell plasma tomorrow
as Dropkick Murphys blare now
through the countdown of last day
for this joint is going dark for a long time
and the bartender is spraying
up and down the boards.
I wonder Why bother? as the gang
are intentionally shaking hands
and a guy tells me being young
I really don’t have much savings.
I have a second job
as a pizza delivery driver
at Hungry Howie’s business slow
there too but my kid’s covered
on Obama Care by my wife.
She’s a hairdresser and her job
requires person-to-person
contact but wait
the owner is pouring corned
beef-infused Jameson.
What on the House?
Let’s have some fun today.
Tomorrow everybody
is going to pack it in.
It’s the last hurrah
and I’m a drinker
and we’re all just people
breaking on through
to the other side of closing time.
Are you ready for a brand-new beat?
Inner rat maze by Carrie Magness Radna
“Disconnected”
my Bluetooth headphones
blasted & lambasted my ear holes
as I threw away my daily trash—
flip flopped, slightly tipsy
from tequila as I shrunk
little by little, as I followed
the path to the garbage room,
nimbly gesturing like a common
NYC rat, who was skipping out
from the subway for a while.
My 9th floor now looks like a maze;
the favorite cheese is now hidden from view,
the blues have settled
deep into my bones—
the other rats are safe
from sickness
inside their homes.
“Connecting,”
my headphones announce gleefully;
I chirp back: “Yes!”
as I enter my haven,
still safe from any known infection—
Pandemic Poems by Christian Garduno
Christian Garduno studied History at the University of California, Berkeley, where he edited a poetry collection (Evolver) and a solo work (Face). His writing can be read in over 30 literary magazines, including Riza Press, where his poem, “The Return”, was a Finalist in their 2019 Multimedia Poetry and Art Contest. Christian Garduno’s current work is a chapbook entitled “Love Above the Armstrong Limit”.
Zoonosis
pandemic
epidemic
scourge of disease
dirty bombs
the force of the explosion and radioactive contamination
will be localized
As with all radiation, you want to try to limit your exposure.
think about shielding, time, and distance
populations decimated
future generations already struggling crippled
civilization falling sick
pestilential infection
the ever-enlarging human population
times of wrath
rapid international transportation
dead birds in the street, mangled from Asia
disease resistance to medication
new strains of old plagues have also occurred
insect resistance to insecticide
Major, outstanding, and unusual
epidemiological & pathological
the identification, mode of transmission, and symptoms
spreading
The New Black Plague Deal
lol it’s prolly nothing
you just got to cough it out
have some bourbon
watch the Kentucky Derby
I remember the before
there used to baseball games
and big get-togethers
now we just use the stadium to defecate in
Wi-fi’s not a lie, we really used to have it
ah, but that was so long ago
you get accustomed to the taste of field grass
some even order it thru Amazon
Idk, it ran on satellites, I think
well, no, you couldn’t see the wi-fi
it was invisible,
like we were connected somehow
They had these things called memes and lol they were so funny like there was this one cat at the dinner table and he was all giving snarky remarks like no, I don’t have Covid-19, I have a case of Corona beer!! LOL get it? Oh, um, ok well, Corona was like this light beer company and the cat had a case but see, harhar, his face tho, that’s what made it so funny, idk, I guess you just had to be there, his face was all….yeah…sad part is that the cat ended up getting CV19 and died, but see his sacrifice? That was the spirit of the meems
Can you believe Mirymar outlawed exhaling
some say they’ve gone too far
but I’m not so sure
I’m not so sure I disagree
A little CV19 never hurt no one
back in my day, it was known to put hair on your chest
why, I know folks that used to eat bowls of CV for breakfast
now those were men
You gotta toughen up a bit
my uncle self-isolated for over 147 years
that’s no lie
y’all cry over everything
Corona Poems by Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal
Luis writes his poems from California. He works in the mental health field in Los Angeles. His poetry has appeared
in The Journal of Heroin Love Songs, Mad Swirl, Red Fez Publications, Unlikely Stories, and Yellow Mama Magazine
NEST OF FEAR
This steady rain,
does it clean or
spread the virus?
These are thoughts I
would not have had
so long ago.
Does the wind bring
it to my face,
into my eyes?
Paranoia
has found a place
to nest its fears.
I do not want
to go out or
eat anything.
Is the food safe?
What can I drink
that’s not poisoned?
THE FEAR IN STRANGER’S EYES
I see the fear
in the cashier’s eyes
when I go up
to pay for food
at the market.
Some are friendly
and some are less
so. I get it.
We are all in
this together
and we all need
to stay apart.
THE PROCESS
Start the process
to isolate.
Finally, there
is something I
excel at. You
could say I am
excellent when
it comes to
isolation.
I withdraw to
myself and I
keep away from
everyone. I
do this all of
the time. It is
as if I am
invisible.
Alien Buddha Press 