by “Clear Dew” Ibuse

Beneath the tree sit
nature’s, great green tennis balls,
Osage oranges.

by “Clear Dew” Ibuse

Attached to its host,
a clump in the leafless oak,
Christmas mistletoe.

“Clear Dew” Ibuse is a haiku poet of natural settings.


They will not be allowed to study Wu Flu in Wuhan.
The Communists do not want scientists to understand/
The CCP has blocked WHO’s search for any evidence,
No one will get to see coronavirus origins.


I Cannot Go
by Caud Sewer Bile

I cannot sleep here in the Google Archipelago,
where faceless, bookless mobs go mad in constant vertigo.
where flocks of birds go twittering from Canada to Ind,
mechanical clay pigeons, like Klee mo-bi-les in the wind
I cannot go to sleep here where these Marxists kill and quell,,
where phonies spy and zombies chide, where billions dwell in hell,
where speech enslaves the mind, like graves enslave the lifeless souls,
where there’s no place for words, where there’s no place for words to go.
where people must report the lies the journalists diffuse.
I cannot go to sleep at night, because there is no news.

Caud Sewer Bile is a poet of what news there is.


Iran hijacked a South Korean vessel in the Gulf.
Wide-eyed, this was denied, ”to see you better,” said the Wolf.
Iran began uranium enrichment. What a nose!
This can pass Europe’s smell-test, if Iran arrange its clothes.
But what a mouth with such big teeth. What is all of that for?
The better to bring peace with missiles, new drones, nukes and more.


The Giraffe
by Bud “Weasel” Rice

On long, strong legs, with long, strong neck, in Africa’s domain,
the tall giraffe was standing on the grass savannah plain.
Atop its head, its ossicones were horny-like, of bone.
Upon its coat were splotches, patterned spots, on gold, light brown.
It tongued and ate acacia leaves, and chomped them jowl to cheek;
attaining heights most ruminants could or would not reach;
and though content, it had to check for foe behind its slog,
preyed on by lions, leopards, and hyenas, wild dogs.
It can run quickly on its hooves; it has some combat too;
but in such cases, it would be much safer in a zoo.

The Sunlight on the Garden
by Ra Lew Dic Seebu
“The sunlight in the garden hardens…”
—Louis MacNeice

He was so happy sitting there upon that gorgeous chair,
out in the garden, out in back, out in the open air.
Anticipating meeting friends who would be shortly by,
he turned around, and looking up, he smiled at the sky.
He lifted his feet off the grass, in clean athletic shoes.
He felt like as an orchard bliss had cast aside his blues.
He felt like Adam, waiting there, in Eden all alone.
He fingered varied sites and images upon his phone.
A scrub jay passed. Where are they at? The brawn Sun burned above.
Alas, it’s but a single star in this cause-mix abyss.

Ra Lew Dic Seebu is a poet of the Sun. Louis MacNeice (1807-1963) was a British Modernist poet.


A Delaware Dog-Collar Inscription
by Bud “Weasel” Rice

I am a poodle of the CCP; my pup is too.
We both are biding at Xi’s beck and call. Whose pooch are you?

by “Leeward Cub” Ise

Dry, brown leaves abound.
An old man picks one, and flings
it out to the wind.

“Leeward Cub” Ise is a poet of nature who is fond of Japanes poetic forms.


There Is So Much Corruption
by Usa W. Celebride
“O nation miserable…when shalt thou see thy wholesome days again.”
—William Shakespeare, “Macbeth”

The CIA, the FBI, the DOJ and more:
there is so much corruption in the US at its core.
The techno-tyrants, Congress, and the voter fraud machines,
there is so much corruption in America, we see.
The minions of the CCP, the courts, and Hollywood,
there is so much corruption in these vipers and their brood.
The bully mobs, the pedophiles, the terrorists and gangs,
there is so much corruption now across the USA.
The media, the greedy robber barons and elites:
there is so much corruption, dirty sea to dirty seat.

Usa W. Celebride is a poet of the USA.


Democratic Newspeak
by Eric Awesud Ble

Across the land, free speech is banned, by despots in control.
Dictating Democratic autocrats are on a roll.
The Democrats, in their pursuit of inclusivity,
banned terms, like mother, father, brother, sister, she or he.
In their committees, Democrats will not allow such terms
as uncle, aunt, granddaughter or grandson; they must be spurned.
The US House of Representatives will stop such trash
thanks to the gender ideology of Democrats.
One must avoid such words as man or woman, husband, wife.
Perhaps the Democrats would also like to banish life.

Eric Awesud Ble is a poet of Orwellian concerns.


On the Twelfth Day
by I Warble Seduce

On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love did not give me
some drummers, pipers, lords or ladies, milkmaids, swans or geese,
nor golden rings, nor callings birds, nor French hens, one-two-three,
nor turtledoves, or one lone partridge in a tall, pear tree.
She merely gave me her sweet presence. Little more you see.
But that is better than all of those other things to me.

I Warble Seduce is a poet of love.