Tuesday, March 26, 2013

An old romantic dog

Subhankar Das

An old romantic dog

you told me to be in my place
with friends
with booze
with poetry
and you will drop in sometimes
when you are free.

how much sex
an old dog like me needs
once or twice a week
is more than enough.

i don’t know what to call it

don’t we have all that in abundance.

Sunday, March 24, 2013

You Sound Just Like The King / Skin Cancer


Michael Grover


You Sound Just Like The King

We went to a friends party one night
There was beer, punk rock, & kids
Jumping off the roof on skateboards
& landing in the pool, so we stayed

I went back to the keg
Our friends brother was standing by it
Our friends brother had gone crazy
He was drivin' drunk one night
Down alligator alley
His best friend in the passenger seat
He drove off the road into the canal
He got out of the car to go get help
By the time he got back an alligator
Had eaten his best friend

So he was standin' there by the keg
Doin' some bad Elvis impersonation
As I walked by he looked right at me
Don't I sound like Elvis
I looked at him
You sound awful man
He reached down for the shotgun
Cocked it & pointed it at my head
Don't I sound like the king mother fucker
All I could say was
You sound just like him
I don't know how I missed it


Skin Cancer

My dad has skin cancer
From years of worshiping the sun
& working in it
My mother still worships
Can't afford to see a doctor
Her face a leathery mask

Growin' up in florida
There's only one thing to do
That is to go to the beach
Oppressive heat beating down

I am starting to feel old
Imagine what my parents must feel
No matter how far I run
I'll never escape those florida roots
Perfect caucasian heaven
Conservative hell
Alligators & manatees
Shotgun justice
It's a part of me







Friday, March 22, 2013

Continuous motion, marvelous motion... / Facesitting

D.A. Pratt, is the MAN in Saskatchewan.

Continuous motion, marvelous motion …


A new GIF … one might say life is now one GIF after another … in this one, a blonde girl is masturbating delightfully … rubbing her four fingers in a circular motion over her pussy with her thumb on her tummy serving in support … watching her becomes this morning’s five minutes of pornographic pleasure … life is one pornographic moment after another or so it seems at this particular moment … she’s wearing leggings that more or less match her open long-sleeved top … what she’s wearing frames what she’s doing fantastically … women should be wearing something when they masturbate like this and she is … she’s on her back with her head supported by a pillow or a pillow-like cushion … she looks comfortable, which is actually important to me … her eyes are closed and this makes the whole damn thing much more believable … her mouth is slightly open, with her lips moving ever so slightly … there’s something sensual about this … her upper teeth are showing just a bit … yes, she’ll bite if given the chance … her blonde hair flows across her forehead from a part on the left … her hair is outlining her face delightfully without fanfare … she’s pretty … surely, we would notice her if the circumstances were different … but right now she’s moving her fingers over her pussy and this is how we’re meeting her … while our attention is going to focus on what she’s doing, we can choose to look at her face and imagine what she’s thinking, what’s she’s imagining as she masturbates … her breasts are sitting on her chest, bare without being the focus of anyone’s attention … she’s masturbating, after all … and we’re voyeurs, as usual … looking again at her fingers moving so marvelously, I see that her fingernails are painted black … and, if we look closely, really closely, we’ll see tattoos near a couple of knuckles … I love the fact that she’s painted her fingernails black … it would be what I would notice first if she placed her hand on mine … now I’m getting carried away … anyway, back to what she’s doing … life is one voyeuristic moment after another and I’m making this one into more than just a fleeting glance at this delightful girl …





She positioned herself

so that she could sit on my face,

as I had dared to ask her to do

and she had surprised me by agreeing to do it …

Once she was ready,

once she was positioned appropriately,

standing over me the way I wanted,

she started her decadent descent,

squatting slowly, ever so slowly,

so I could thoroughly enjoy

what she had agreed to do for me …

She was facing away from me

so I was getting the curiously carnal chance

to see her lower her beautiful bum onto my face …

Ah, her thighs and her delightful derrière

came downward, closer and closer,

getting lower and lower,

in a marvelously controlled descent –

until there was touch-down,

yes, we had contact!

And I started licking,

as she knew I would be doing,

once she sitting on my face –

my tongue flicked up and down,

over and over and over again,

lapping at the teasingly tight seam

that slides down her bum

between the back pockets

of her well-worn blue jeans …

Wednesday, March 20, 2013




 Dan slipped into an oven and was magically carried into the land of the Gingerbread. He was immediately taken in by the witch Fiona. She gave Dan an inter-dimensional cream pie in exchange for his collection of Jerry Lewis sound bites he had cleverly sewn into his belly button.

Suddenly, the Gingerbread Nazis forced their way into Fiona's house of candy canes and arrested her on the spot, relocating her to a camp for witches to bake more Gingerbread Nazis.

Dan was found by his wife, over baked. She found the cream pie and consumed it.

A one way ticket home.

                                                        THE FEELING

Luna enterd the cafe with a hand attached to the front of her dress. She sat in the booth facing the streetlight peering inside the window of the cafe. Under the streetlight was man that crawled in and out of the trash cans that were in a circle. His long worm-like body slithered around the cold hard pavement in circles, then back in one of the trash cans, and out again. The cycle continued the entire time Luna was in the cafe.

            She watched this man, and noticed his naked gray skin was illuminated by the light from the streetlight. She could see every terrible boil on his dry flaky skin. Skin particles and a slimy oil residue was left on sidewalk in an almost cryptic message.

This made the hand that was attached to Luna's dress very nervous.

He wasn't the most outgoing of hands or even body parts for that matter. Though he did become friendly with a female foot next door. They would sit in the foot's room, drink Sangria and listen to Nick Drake records. Luna didn't like the foot very much. She was very jealous. So she tried very hard to prevent the hand from seeing the foot. Often hiding his cell phone, or deleting his messages on Facebook.

               This put a division in Luna and the hand's relationship for a time. Just a week or so ago, they began to talk. Mostly about the Russian Revelation and chocolate fingers.

Still, the worm-like man crawling in and out of trash cans made the hand nervous. And when the waitress came to take their order, the hand leaped from the front of Luna's dress and attached itself to the waitress' face.

The waitress ran through the crowded cafe screaming, knocking dishes into customers and dumping a mop bucket on the owner's feet. After a few minutes of this folly, the hand removed itself from the waitress' face.

With all eyes on them, and whispers to their backs, Luna and her hand left the cafe, only slightly embarrassed.

On the street, under the streetlight, the worm-like man settled out in front of one of the trash cans. He smiled hugely at Luna and the hand, bearing all his blackened teeth. The hand crawled into the trash can first, then Luna, followed by the worm-like man.

Luna was happy. She had that warm feeling of belonging to someone.


Monday, March 18, 2013


Teri Louise Kelly




opium dolls


bones aching

blind cold

dream night,

shaman’s hand

on mine,

look of fear

thrill of the unknown . . .

taste of blood,

perfume of decomposition,

not a cloud in sight

just a room

with a view

& no way out.




i broke myself down
into derivatives
traded those
pieces of me
on the ink market
to anyone with a broken heart
& a dusty bookcase.


you came unarmed

into the harlots den
born like that,

bought the ticket,

turned down

the ride,
got stolen from from the
written into

the future.

in our own documentary;


Those tenements of love we erected,

from bricks of lust & want,

crumbled in the tempest,

turning slowly to slums,

where bare-footed dwellers

& beggars, traded piety

for ammunition.

sit and watch the fall,

through vacant eyes;

staring down wasteland promises

& shopping cart truths

Pushed by promiscuous cunts

& vagabond slags.

We shed our clothes & our skin,

scoured rubble for clues,

until our bones bled;

builders we were,

Shakespearean sots,

architects of our own demise.



Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Grading on a Dream / Dixie Cups and Pesetas / Sly Notion / Genoa


I'm a 67 year-old former computer program and two times Navy Vet.   Thomas Michael McDade



Grading on a Dream


Jocko was the C-man

because he could skip

nearly every class of any course,

take the final and grab a C,

nothing more, nothing less.

He did have an A dream once

that he loved to share:

with bowels about to burst

he was sitting on a red commode,

a buxom woman was straddling him.

A can of ice-cold Bud was in one hand,

a steak sandwich dripping onions

and mushrooms in the other.

She coordinated a cigar

of marijuana

with his chomping and slurping.

She rode him like an equestrian

in a gold medal dressage

or a trick rider in a rodeo.

Didn’t need spurs for precision.

Don’t know whether or not

Jocko’s dream was ever realized.

Heard he perished

scaling rocks in Arizona.

May his last thoughts

have locked on the pleasures

of that red commode.

The C-man and Eternity?

Some said he lived a flunking life

but I hold the almighty would

would have graded on a curve

lifting Jocko’s mark to a C

the day the mountain flicked him

off like the party’s last

Budweiser beer

can tab.

Dixie Cups and Pesetas


Snipes working the ship’s innards

hotter than any civilian hell,

where the smoking lamp stayed out,

substituted dip and chew

tobaccos for cigarettes.

They carried Dixie Cups for their spittoons.

Once and only once that I know of

a Machinist third hurting for cash

and madly in love with a red light

lady who shed boots for him

and him alone said pour some

of each into one, take a collection

and I’ll drink like it was Wild

Turkey. . . if you raise enough. 

A fool who asked if it’s such

a great romance why the need

for “potatoes” required stitches.

A little over twenty was the prize

and the potion was prepared –

he performed as advertised -

no vomit, paralysis or regretting

that slimy cocktail.

The stuff of legends

one saliva donor decreed,

any way you mix it.

Liberty call and then deep

in the gut at the Old Kentucky

Bar it turned out

since it was last

night in Palma de Mallorca,

the beloved arranged

for the smitten sailor’s stint

to be gratis and by God,

nearly an hour. 

As he strutted down

the stairs eyewitnesses

to the Dixie Cup

caper stood in ovation.

Even the Engineman mad

dog, crazy drunk licking

barmaid ankles howled

in homage.

The king of spit bought shots

for all and they downed them

as if they owned a piece

of his fame,

and weren’t just trying

to wash away

the very thought of it.    




Sly Notion


The Senior Chief

finishing his

career on shore

said he’d found little

in two and a half

decades of Navy

more overrated

than pussy.

(Man, best

keep that off



Crazy for it


a port and

cathouse call

quickly put

all lust to rest

he claimed.

It wasn’t until

family members

were guests

for Thanksgiving

dinner that we saw

that his fine wife

was likely

responsible for

his sly notion.

Not daring to

leave our eyes

on her for long

we just smiled

like recruiting

poster sailors

a photographer

shouted pussy at

instead of cheese.




A question flies from a window

like the thrush that tells

the secrets of children

to mothers.

“You fuck?” it asks and follows

us to a Serviceman’s Center

where there is a terrace

with a harbor view

and a weedy garden

where Gods and Goddesses

including Neptune pose.

The question hooks

their marble where it fits.

This Center is brighter than the one

in Naples but has no slot machines.

The hostess says that city

is not Italia as sailor eyes

roam the faded ceiling art.

This used to be a palace!

Visiting the house

where Columbus was born,

we listen to the windows

like field tripping Audubon members.

We wrap up the evening

in a red-light bar called Hollywood

where rumors fly

that American beer contains


Some sailors tell upstairs whores

they’ve seen them in works of art

on ceilings, no shit!

But no bargains follow.

Prices are old world always

says the lady in a dim hall

who knits so fast her needles click.

She passes out towels,

takes the money.

At times her tired hands fall

on her yarn like birds

the children have found out.




Monday, March 11, 2013

10 Questions Round # 4

Andrew Hilbert

1. Where do you live, city & country or state? Austin, TX

2. From your country what is the most unusual food you like, that most foreigners would hate? I heard Peanut Butter is a rarity around the world and even in the States, Peanut Butter & Pickle sandwiches are looked to with disgust but I love them.

3. If you had to live in any country besides yours, what would be your favorite & least favorite, in that order? I don't know that I could pick a favorite country to live in. I'd love to visit some countries for extended periods but I feel fine at home. For the sake of the question: the UK, France, or Germany would top the list of countries I could live in. I would fucking hate to live in North Korea.

4. If you were stranded naked on a deserted island & were allowed one thing, what would it be? (no transportation allowed) A hammock.

5. If you could only choose one book as your favorite, what would it be? Journey to the End of Night by Celine. I don't know that I've read a better novel since reading that one.

6. If you could have a conversation with anyone, dead & alive, who would it be, in that order? The previous tenant of my apartment. The tow truck company owner that prowls my apartment complex.

7. If you could have sex with anyone, dead & alive, who would it be, in that order? No answer.

8. What is your favorite movie & television show, in that order? The Big Lebowski. The Wire.

9. If you could only have one super power, what would it be? Future vision.

10. If you found a magic lamp & got three wishes, what would they be? My answer comes from a joke I heard from a Townes Van Zandt album, cut and pasted from this website: Gallagher is out for a walk when he spots a leprechaun. He lunges and catches the wee one by the foot and holds on. The leprechaun, furious, yells, "Let me go." Gallagher says, "OK, but what about my three wishes." The leprechaun agrees but tells him to hurry up. Gallagher's first wish is for a pint of Guiness that never empties. Poof. A pint appears. Gallagher takes a big gulp, examines the pint, and it's still full. In disbelief, he downs the whole pint after which the it is still full. Meanwhile the leprechaun is screaming at him to let him go. Gallagher says, "What about my other two wishes." The leprechaun angrily replies, "Be quick. What are your other two wishes." Gallagher says, "I'll have two more of these."


Moriah LaChapell


1. Where do you live, city & country or state?

McMinnville, Oregon

2. From your country what is the most unusual food you like, that most foreigners would hate?

Oregon Coast Oysters

3. If you had to live in any country besides yours, what would be your favorite & least favorite, in that order?

I'd give New Zealand a whirl, least would be Sweden.

4. If you were stranded naked on a deserted island & were allowed one thing, what would it be? (no transportation allowed)

My house with my family in it. hardeeharhar

5. If you could only choose one book as your favorite, what would it be?

The River Why David James Duncan

6. If you could have a conversation with anyone, dead & alive, who would it be, in that order?

My Mother (yes, I'm maudlin) Gillian Welch or Tori Amos (sorry had to list 2)

7. If you could have sex with anyone, dead & alive, who would it be, in that order?

W.B. Yeats, but he'd probably be pining over Maude Gonne and maybe my husband would forgive me if it was Leonard Cohen.

8. What is your favorite movie & television show, in that order?

Vanya on 42nd Street & I'm embarrassed to admit Celebrity Ghost Stories

9. If you could only have one super power, what would it be?

Omniscience, but it'd be lonely.

10. If you found a magic lamp & got three wishes, what would they be?

For my daughter to never know suffering.

To live a complete life.

Money, why the fuck not?