by “Clear Dew” Ibuse

The cat walks along
the dilapidated fence,
enjoying the grass.


          by “Clear Dew” Ibuse

They gaze at the Sun,
green, leafy black-eyed Susans,
golden, bold, undone.


          by “Clear Dew” Ibuse

Beneath clear blue skies,
the world seems cloudier
to an agéd man.

“Clear Dew” Ibuse is a haiku poet.


Along the LAC
          by Sree Leci Budwa

The stand-off in Ladakh goes on in five key areas.
The Chinese are now pushing up against the Indians.
Some skirmishes took place on May the 5th near Lake Pangong,
when the Chinese assaulted Indians with their batons.
Intrusions also took place in the region of Demchok,
and on the banks of Galwan River, China wants to block;
more recently near Gogra Post, and north to Daulat Beg,
an ALG, Air Landing Ground, a vital airstrip leg.
And so the tensions still remain, although the risk is low,
along the LAC, the Line of Actual Control.

Sree Leci Budwa is a poet of India. Ladakh, a part of Indian Kashmir, has a population of around 270,000.


The New Millennium Report: June 2020
          by Crise de Abu Wel

The worst are full of passionate intensity and hate.
The needless killing keeps occurring; it does not abate.
Dictators cross the globe with their police-state iron fists,
while rioters and looters justify their violence.
Crass anarchy and plagues are loosed upon our days and nights,
while peoples liberation armies trample human rights.
A Beast is rising from the blood-dim, ruddy, flooding tide.
O, who can fight against Its might? O, who can break Its stride?
Its worshipers give It authority, approve Its stay,
while dark clouds gather overhead. When will they go away?

Crise de Abu Wel is a poet of the Good Father and blind prophet of the New Millennium.


The Markets and the Riots and the Plague
          by Brad Lee Suciew

It seems there’s a strange disconnect between the markets and
the riots and the plague that cross this grand, enormous land.
For while some cities burn with violence and angry souls;
since March, the Dow ‘s climbed 7,000 points. It rocks and rolls.
The markets are a picture of what people think will be,
apparently expecting growth in this economy.
So, though some cities are experiencing looted stores,
the markets seem to discount that for future value flows.
While companies, like Amazon and Google, surge ahead,
so many try to muster on—just barely—in the red.

Brad Lee Suciew is a poet of business.


The Bungee Jumping Joe
          by Walibee Scrude

He was afraid to make the jump, to take the leap in air.
In only bungee jumping harness gear, how did he dare?
He looked for reassurance from the guy who strapped him in;
but all that he could get was hard talk and a sneaky grin.
Why was he up there at that height, so he could fall so far?
He wondered if his nerve could take that bungee jumping jar.
And then he leapt and down he fell; he longed to cry for help;
but he kept quiet all the drop, he didn’t want to yelp.
He held on to naught but his hope, intrepid to the last,
recoiling in the springing rope, ascend, descend, o, jast.

Walibee Scrude is a poet from Down Under. According to Beau Lecsi Werd, jast is a neologism meaning a joyous blast.


Red Necks in the Ballaugh Curraghs
          by Bud “Weasel” Rice

It started long ago with an escape; that much we know.
But when the wallabies came to the Isle of Man is so
encased within a riddle wrapped within a mystery,
that all that’s known is that it happened. It is history.
Perhaps escaping swinging Sixties or the Seventies,
the mid-sized macropods sought freedom, springing for the trees.
Perhaps they left a wi-ld-life en-clo-sure in the north.
O, who knows how or where or when, the wallabies set forth.
Whatever is the case, they now count for the largest group
found in the Northern Hemisphere—marsupials uncooped!

Bud “Weasel” Rice is a poet of the kingdom of animals—Animalia. The population of the Isle of Man is approximately 83,000. There are about 100 red-necked wallabies from the original pair. The Ballaugh Curraghs are a wetland in northwestern Isle of Man.


Dürer: Innsbruck, 1495
          by Uwe Carl Diebes

A dream on water, castles in the brilliant air,
Mount Patscherkofel faint in distant retrospects,
the narrow, pastel spires; I knew they would be there;
and painted, tinted roofs the filtered stream reflects.
And high up in gray clouds upon the pale azure,
there Albrecht Dürer left his monogram in text.
Now I find I have shrunk to interloper sure,
a robber of dead men’s dreams, as I hang around
the curved boat passing by that world, pristine, pure,
indexed, unvexed, and next, a glimpse without a sound,
another’s vision found, no black swan anywhere,
the water coloured from the world to which one’s bound.

Uwe Carl Diebes is a poet of Germany. Mount Patscherkofel is an Austrian mountain of 2246 meters. Albrecht Dürer (1471-1523) was a German painter and printmaker of the Renaissance. This poem is a bilding [sic]. N. N. Taleb, a Lebanese-American writer, who, in his black swan theory, discusses unpredictable, rare events that blind people, individually and collectively.


The Second Movement of Beethoven’s Ninth
          by Ewald E. Eisbruc
          “…my rampart, and my only one.”
              Edna St. Vincent Millay, On Hearing a Symphony of Beethoven

The Second Movement of Beethoven’s Ninth
is exquisite, exciting, beautiful,
excelling to the nth degree in Thine
eternal universe, o, Lord. If all
of life were so enchanting and intense,
it certainly would be too much. It would
bedraggle as it rhapsodized all sense.
My spirit soars—this music is so good.
And yet I am not merry when I hear
its power take me through so many sounds.
I am attentive when my ears are near.
enthralled by ‘ts moving melodies, o, zounds!
Such energy transports me to an awe
I do not want to stay at for too long.

Ewald E. Eisbruck is a poet and literary critic of German music. German composer Ludwig van Beethoven (1770-1827) created his remarkable musical works on the cusp of the Classical and Romantic periods. The quote comes from a sonnet by Modernist American poet Edna Millay (1892-1950).


Fake Checks
by Esca Webuilder

As Twitterites do fact-checks, which are sometimes merely fake,
confusing truths with just opinions is a main mistake.
And censoring the voices that one does not want to hear,
is neither good, nor valu’ble; it is the voice of fear.
One needs to get out of one’s bubble, get out of the booth.
One needs to weigh all kinds of views, when striving for the truth.
The Twitterites have got it wrong, confusing their beliefs,
with facts! That’s what they are condemning in their enemies.
How strange it is, when people have the freedom to refute,
but cannot see that others do too. It does not compute!

Esca Webuilder is a poet of the Internet.