by “Clear Dew” Ibuse

Asleep, he is flat;
the cat does not have a hat;
glad where he is at.

“Clear Dew” Ibuse is a poet of Japanese poetic forms. One of his favourite Japanese prose and haiku writers is Natsume Soseki (1867-1915), author who uses, as a common house cat, a high-register phrasing in his satirical novel I Am a Cat.


         by E “Birdcaws” Eule

A flock of robins
scavenges for any food,
silent in the wind.

E “Birdcaws” Eule is a poet of Japanese poetic forms, like haiku. He admires the Japanese poet Matsuo Basho (1644-1694), who informs the following tennos.


A Humble Frog
         by Sri Wele Cebuda

He got into the lotus pose, with opened inner eye.
He felt like as a humble frog beneath a pinkish sky.
His legs were folded neatly and his thighs brushed as a frond.
He felt like as he was upon a water lily pond.
He dreamed of lemon water; golden light was flickering.
The sky was mighty high. His lips were moist and puckering.
He felt like as he was in flux, the water wavering.
Though beauty filled his open mind, he felt unsavoury.
The frog jumped in the pond’s broad breadth. He heard a big splash, o!
as if this was a birthday party bash, o, flashy show

Sri Wele Cebuda is a poet of meditation.


         by “Wired Clues” Abe

The new backyard fence,
varnished an auburn pecan,
draws squirrels and birds.


         by “Wired Clues” Abe

After the snow-storm,
the mad dash for new houses
picks up in the warmth.


         by “Wired Clues” Abe

For her, Manhattan
was aromatic bitters,
bourbon and vermouth.

“Wired Clues” Abe is a poet of technology in English, using Japanese forms. The lady in the last haiku enjoys singing the Rodgers and Hart song of 1925.


One decade on, Japan mourns victims of the deadly quake
that caused the Fukushima devastation in its wake.


Going Backward with the CCP, the TransNational Crime Syndicate
         by Lu “Reed ABCs” Wei

Term limits were eliminated for Tsar Xi Jinping.
The Fuhrer and the CCP are now in lockstep sync.
The Leader of the CCP can stay in power for
his life, as long as that may be, though not forevermore.

The vote to change the “constitution” was a phony deal;
the whole charade was pure BS and ceremonial.
Less than three thousand party members were allowed to vote
—the Emperor must not allow the people to revolt.

The People’s Congress, really not the people’s anything,
has rubber-stamped the Chinese tyranny of Xi Jinping.
What will be next for the Dictator, only time will tell.
Unfortunately millions will be forced to go through Hell.

Lu “Reed ABCs” Wei is a poet of China. The phrase “going backward” is a phrase trucks in China make, when going in reverse. Though the Communist thought-police banned the phrse, it spread across social media until they were able to get rid of most of it. Millions of the Chinese, like millions of Americans, don’t buy the mainstream narratives.


Ten thousands dipped into the Ganges, half in masks, half not.
Kumbh Mela bathing brings salvation is the Hindu thought.


On the Holder’s Shoulder
         by Sri Wele Cebuda

He got into the lotus pose upon a king-sized bed.
Outside was dark, the walls were white; he raised his thoughtful head.
He spread his legs, his knees were bent; he raised his torso up.
He opened up his inner eye; he felt like as a cup.
The moon was rising in the sky; he gazed in awe at it.
He wanted so to stay right there—at least a little bit.
Although his head was high, his chest was out, his seat secure,
he felt as if, while holding on, he fell. Could he endure?
O, how he longed so to embrace the Holder’s shoulder’s base;
but he was sliding fast into the Universal Space.

Sri Wele Cebuda is a poet of meditation and India.


Gudea of Lagash
         by Scribe El Uwase

I feel like Gudea of Lagash in bedtime dress.
I wear a tan-hued blanket as a tunic round my chest.
In winter I may wear a woolen cap upon my head.
In short I am as one who is a picture of the dead.
And when I’m seated in a chair, my hands across my breast,
I feel like a king, 4,000 years ago, and blessed,
the time propitious, as it were, a golden age of sorts,
a bit of independence from the Gulian king’s force.
A temple-builder throughout Sumer, town-king of great sites,
Bad-Tibira, Uruk, Adab, Nippur and Ur, its heights.


Cuneiform Clay Tablet Plimpton 322
         by Scribe El Uwade

The Babylonian clay tablet, Plimpton 3-2-2.
is quite extr’ordinary in its form and point of view.
The scribe who chiseled it was very neat with access to
remarkably high mathematics, fascinating too.
The lists of large Pythagorean triplet pairs are laid
within its chiseled rows and columns, carefully displayed.
Some thirteen centimeters wide, nine centimeters tall;
at just two centimeters thick, it is, in fact, quite small.
From Larsa, Senkereh, in south Iraq, its age believed
to be around the time of 1800 BCE.
It is four columns, fifteen rows, in sexagesimals,
with which the widths are utilized to find diagonals.
It is assumed the left edge was a line of added ones,
perhaps the reason it broke there, at least presumed by some.
A ratio-based, complicated trigonometry,
rectangular, precise, deep-decimal geometry,
sits there within exactitude, seen with a lowly lens,
extending understanding of the Babylonians.

Scribe El Uwade is a poet of Egypt and Mesopotamia. Gudea of Lagash ruled (circa 2144 BC – 2122 BC). Not only are there a progression of angles in Plimpton 322, but the Pythagorean triplets can be very large: in row four, for example, they are 12,709, 13,500, and 18,541.


“Panem et Circenses”
         —Aedile Cwerbus

Already long ago, when no man sold his vote, his one,
the people abdicated duties for a bit of fun.
The people once upon a time would hand out high commands,
it was a practice seen in ancient times in many lands
both military—legions—and civilian offices;
these days they only hope for two things—bread and circuses.

Aedile Cwerbus is a poet of ancient Rome. Juvenal (active c. 87 AD – 127 AD) was a Silver Age satirist and friend of Martial (c. 40 AD – c. 103 AD).


Piers Morgan quit “Good Morning Britain” after he walked out
by calling Meghan Markle’s “propaganda” into doubt.


Dithering in the USA
         by Caud Sewer Bile
         “The spirit of the century/ Telling us that we’re all standing on
         the border”
              —Al Stewart

They say a crisis is a terrible thing to create;
yet that’s exactly what the Biden Admin’s done of late.
As thousands cross the border daily, chaos reigns supreme.
To get into the USA is everybody’s dream.
But criminals and COVID positives are coming too;
the southern porous border has become a deadly stew.
More than ten thousand unattended children are now held/
Where are their parents and their loved ones? far away from Hell?
Since he became the Resident of fenced-off Washington,
the situation is more dangerous with every month.
But he seems unaware; he dithers every single day.
Within less than two months he blithers in the USA
Is he as bad as Trump; most would not say so at this time;
and yet the crisis at the border hardly is sublime.

Caud Sewer Bile is a poet of the Swamp. Silver Alert: Old geezer disoriented in a hardware store; gas prices and the price of silver rising due to massive money print and accumulating debt purchased by Chinese Communists and Arabian monarchies.


Cancel Culture: 1640s
         by Cadwel E. Bruise

In Hawthorne’s book “The Scarlet Letter” cancel culture wins,
when Hester Prynne, adulteress, is branded for her sin.
She’s placed in jai; and must wear a scarlet letter A
embroidered on her gray skirt each and every single day.


Bonfire of the Vanities
         by Cadwel E. Bruise
         “From Shakespeare…gushed a flame of…splendor…men shaded
         their eyes…”
              —Nathaniel Hawthorne, “Earth’s Holocaust”

Ah, yes, the human race had since become so brilliant that
they thought to banish all the fat, to burn the round Earrth flat.
They thought to burnish inner cities; making no-go zones.
That way they’d rid the wOr-ld of injustice, crimes and loans.
They thought to banish the police so there would be no laws.
They thought to nix philosophers so there would be no cause.
They thought to cut out words from their vocabulary lists.
They thought to banish mathematics and the scientists.
They were so brilliant that they thought to censor common sense.
They outlawed man and woman. due to their intelligence.
The happier they were, the more they burned, the more they lost.
They threw Nathaniel Hawthorne’s words onto Earth’s holocaust.

Cadwel E. Bruise is a poet of New England. Nathaniel Hawthorne (1804-1864) was a Romantic American creator of a rich tapestry of novels and short stories.


The Beast
         by Bud “Weasel” Rice
         “Adam,,,what hast thou wrought?”
              —Swami Salami

Like as
an S.
he has
and bides
the dawn.
He hides
his yawn.
But snabs
a stray,
and grabs
the day…
to feast—
the Beast!

Bud ‘Weasel” Rice is a poet of wildlife. According to Beau Lecsi Werd, “snabs” is a neologism meaning to snap and nab! The monometer sonnet draws on ancient Roman and Biblical texts.


Six Seuss Books
         by Wic E. Ruse Blade

Six Seuss books will be cancelled for insensitivity,
for racist language and uncaring sorts of imag’ry.
The books include: “…To Think…I Saw It on Mulberry Street”.
“Scrambled Eggs Super!”, “On Beyond Zebra”—They’re not fit to read!
“Cat’s Quizzer” also jettisoned, and “If I Ran the Zoo”,
as well as that unsavoury book…”Mc-El-li-got’s Pool”
With over 30,000,000 dollars—2020’s sales—
the company was way out front of cancel culture wails.
At Amazon, Seuss sales surged up to the very top!
and paperbacks soared near 1,000 dollars per one pop.
“…I Saw It on Mulberry Street” outstripped the book “Mein Kampf”,
and Marx’s racist “On the Jewish Question” too was stomped.


On Crhymes
         by Wic E, Ruse Blade

Although the synthesis of air, land, sun and sea appeals.
I find I’m still in disagreement with the present spie[
for felt and self aren’t merely assonantal in my mind,
but also, consonantally, rhyme perfectly I find.
For me the order of the letters doesn’t matter much,
which is why such a large percentage channel me a chump.
Who cares? But even more than that two lines don’t have to rhyme.
In any order, it’s okay to slosh through mud and mire,
especi’lly when one’s pulling out roots of euonymus..
In this I find myself and me unanimous in sum.

Wic E. Ruse Blade is a swashbuckling poet, who draws his poetic line (not his poetry!) from folk poetry, Blake, Coleridge, Whitman, Dickinson, Pound, Williams and Ginsberg.