Poem from Chimezie Ihekuna

Chimezie Ihekuna (Mr. Ben) Young Black man in a collared shirt and jeans resting his head on his hand. He's standing outside a building under an overhang.
Chimezie Ihekuna
Let's celebrate Christmas!

Let's Celebrate Christmas!
Where?
In a place where Christ has its domain
In a place where the reason for his celebration is not in vain
In a place where the savior of the world is the main

Let's celebrate Christmas!
Where?
In a place where the is mistletoe is evident
In a place where Christmas Trees are prevalent
In a place where the Santa Claus is always present

Let's celebrate Christmas!
Where?
In a place where merriment abounds
In a place where sober reflection surrounds
In a place where resolutions for the New Year mounts

In all, Let's celebrate Christmas!

Poetry from J.D. Nelson

two daddy longlegs
wait for prey near the window—
a white candle burns



a pair of mallards—
a brown horse in the distance
its head to the ground



the almost-full moon
illuminates the roses—
the white picket fence



the highway traffic—
pine needles on the sidewalk
behind the strip mall



after the rainstorm—
the upside-down squirrel eats
from the bird feeder


-------------


bio/graf

J. D. Nelson (b. 1971) experiments with words in his subterranean laboratory. His poems have appeared in many small press publications, worldwide, since 2002. He is the author of ten chapbooks and e-books of poetry, including Cinderella City (The Red Ceilings Press, 2012). Nelson’s poem, “to mask a little bird” was nominated for Best of the Net. Visit http://MadVerse.com for more information and links to his published work. His haiku blog is at http://JDNelson.net. Nelson lives in Colorado, USA.


-------------

Poetry from J.J. Campbell

Middle aged guy with a big beard standing in a bedroom
J.J. Campbell
little chance
 
hushed laughter
 
a quiet embrace
between two old
lovers
 
i try not to look
 
jealousy is a
horrible byproduct
of being a human
 
it becomes even
worse when you
know there is little
chance of change
ever coming along
-------------------------------------------------------------------
put our differences aside
 
my father died before
i hit my forties
 
we never had those
years where we had
put our differences
aside and had a drink
in a bar
 
instead, i'm up at night
reading medical records
of a man that was crazy
and the new family that
drained all the money
he had
 
part of me thinks that
was mine
 
part of me knows
i wouldn't fucking
want it
 
he'll never be anything
more than the fucker
who tried to kill me
and failed
 
tried to kill himself
and failed
 
tried to bring the
rest of his world
down and succeeded
 
thankfully, i wasn't
a part of his world
for the last twenty
years of his life
---------------------------------------------------------
downing spoonsful of shit
 
the ignorant want to lead
just as much as the blind
think they can see
 
the rest of us are
stuck in the void
 
downing spoonsful of shit
because someone wearing
a white coat said it was
good for you
 
i never listened to them
 
i drink a bottle of liquor
every couple of days
 
my doctor thinks i'll die
soon
 
i told him i'll make sure
to tell his replacement
about that
--------------------------------------------------------------
yet
 
my mother
was telling me
everything she
wants me to
change in
my life
 
and ended
the one-sided
conversation
with your life
isn't over yet
 
i mentioned
i liked what
she ended the
last sentence
with
 
yet
 
one word that
has a limitless
supply of
possibilities
 
but still that
genuine human
quality of
 
procrastination
--------------------------------------------------------------
open a window and fall back asleep
 
one of these mornings
where you'd love to
open a window and
fall back asleep
 
it's an open field
with trees starting
to change colors
 
eventually,
the powers that be
will decide a few
homes or a new
business would
look better
 
you miss just how
quiet the old farm
would get at sunset
 
not everyone is
frightened by
their thoughts

J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is old enough to know better. He’s been widely published over the last quarter century, most recently at Horror Sleaze Trash, Cajun Mutt Press, Terror House Magazine, Jellyfish Whispers and The Beatnik Cowboy. You can find him most days on his mildly entertaining blog, evil delights. (https://evildelights.blogspot.com)

Short story from Santiago Burdon

Suffering Pleasure 


Darkness had just punched the time clock, showing up to work the night shift. I needed to light a couple of candles in my Studio apartment. The purpose wasn't to create a romantic or Gothic ambience, but instead to be able to navigate around my four hundred square foot living space with some light. It seems my memory has been on a drunken binge once again and forgot to pay the electric bill. The Electric and Power guy pointed out I've used that somewhat creative as well as almost humorous excuse far too often. 

The novelty has worn off with the consequence  being orders to confiscate the Electric Meter and return it to the office. It meant he couldn't just pull it out, turn it upside down, and push it back in. The company mid-level suits  had become aware of me pulling it out then placing it back into the service restoring my power after the electric guy left. I guess I'll be playing pioneer for a while. Maybe I should stock up on candles or get one of those oil lamps.  You know what?  My neighbors are leaving on vacation for a month tomorrow. So I'll be able to jump their electric power and their Cable, which I think is still hooked up from the last time I tapped in. I'll try to find some way to get my T.V. out of hock.  Quite possibly I'll just borrow one of my neighbor's.  This guy will be living like a suburban scumbag in no time at all. I've  got it all worked out.

"This has to stop Santiago. There's no future in what you refer to as a recreational activity." I said out loud.

" Ya I know. I've gotta straighten up." Answering back with a four a.m. honesty.

I emptied the entire contents of the paper into the small pool of water in the spoon. 

"When do you think  that  might happen?"

" I'm not sure. It may manifest as a revelation or an epiphany?  Maybe they'll be an intervention,  or the never-fail cure, incarceration."

I held the spoon over the candle flame and bubbles appeared on the surface of the water caused by the heat. 

"It doesn't matter. You've gotta get clean. This is just no fun anymore."  

"You know something?  I'm unable to remember when this was fun."

I drew up the warm coffee colored liquid mixture through a cigarette butt I used as a filter. Then I inspected the contents for air bubbles, flicking the syringe with my finger to dislodge them.

" You look at life as though it's a nonstop parade just for your entertainment and you watch it pass by.  Let me tell you, the last float will be showing up soon signaling your demise. Believe me Santa Claus won't be on it waving his hello. It's got to stop!"

My voice echoed in the near empty apartment.

 "Ya, it'll happen. I promise. I just can't say when."  I answered sincerely. But even I didn't believe myself.

I stabbed  the syringe deep into my vein. I didn't  even have to pull back on the plunger to register.  My dark, thick, rich, red, blood billowed into it offering a crimson preview of the explosion about to erupt inside my body. My finger slowly, ceremoniously pushed down on the plunger.

Boom!

JSB 

Poetry from Christina Chin/Uchechukwu Onyedikam



swamp 

sounds at dusk

the moon and sea

in my palm —

they meet







campus laundromat 

back and forth 

graduates move

in and out


… life's cycle







gratitude —

practicing the art of war

morn after morn

i wake 


to fake news







world atlas

a jigsaw puzzle 

global event —

my country and I


not in attendance





clear 

thinking

in the quiet storm

a calmness sits


rooting







vertically challenged —

the curve goes round

and round

the flying trapeze 


somersaults





supper —

at the table

the long-lost aroma

of his late mother's 

food








we say:

it is faith

through the sea of reeds

grebes dance


on water







sober

morning 

breathing a new day

under the oak tree

i coexist






different time zone

celebrating 

the feast of a saint 

bowing low to the sun


to kiss her foot





Christina Chin / Uchechukwu Onyedikam

Visual poetry from Jim Force

On the Edge
Twilight
Youthful Beauty
Twisting and Turning
Entropy
Introduction/Bio: Nika is the pen name of Dr. Jim Force, a retired educator. He is a passionate haiku poet who combines his haiku with his passion for photography. Both haiku and photography reflect his minimalist approach to life in general. The images used in entropy are of sidewalk cracks that he encountered on his daily walks in his neighbourhood. Adjustments in exposure, dynamic range, levels and curves are the only manipulations of the images. Nothing has been subtracted or added to the images. He lives in Calgary, Alberta, Canada with his wife Colleen and their two cairn terriers. 

Poetry from Lorelyn Arevalo

archaeùlogy

picking up
the remnants of what was,
the could haves and would haves
securing them in an amber
worn around her neck
laced with flesh-eating bacter(I)um
inflaming her voicebox
digging up corrosives
burying her confidence
with every negative
self-talk

xxxxx

petrichor

seeping into 
pillows and sheets
housing your scent
and mine...
before i rain

Lorelyn De la Cruz Arevalo
Bombon, Philippines