by “Clear Dew” Ibuse

Th’ afternoon shower
catches grasses and tree leaves;
the metro swallows.

“Clear Dew” Ibuse is a poet of natural settings and Japanese poetic forms. This haiku draws on 夕立や 草葉をつかむ むら雀 by Yosa Buson (1716-1784), whose visual haiku influenced his early poetry. According to Beau Lecsi Werd, “swallows” is a pun for bird and drink.


          by “Wired Clues” Abe

Exploring the house,
th’ inquisitive baby licks
the dishwasher door.

“Wired Clues” Abe is a poet using Japanese forms united with technology.


All News Becomes Old
          by Lubric Aweseed
          “The World will little note nor long remember what’s said here,
          and it, too, will forget the great events that round us whirl.”
              —Bic Uwel, “Erased”

All news becomes old; it’s ephemeral; the challenge is:
to somehow make it lasting longer than a one-day fizz.
So poetry comes to its aid to mold it into forms
that can endure for longer (in time’s ever mighty storms).
Somehow it has to be securely planted in the ground,
like as the clone Norwegian spruce Old Tjikko hangs around,
or like the bristlecone pines in the western USA,
Great Basin or Prometheus that grow millenniā.
O, surely we can take a hint from ancient Greek acorns,
when we speak of the present-day events as they occur.

Lubric Aweseed is a poet of trees. Old Tjikko, Great Basin, and Prometheus are among the oldest trees on planet Earth.


A Question
          by Brad Lee Suciew

The ¥ is weak because Japan has kept loose policies.
Is that one of the reasons for the rising USD?

Brad Lee Suciew is a poet of business.


Demand for Electricity
          by Rauc E. Sedilube

The Globe’s demand for electricity is growing fast,
especi’lly as more lands ban coal, shale, LNG and gas.
What is a source for energy that is affordable,
low-carbon, scalable, and also is reliable?

With its enduring toxic waste, is it uranium?
And what of heavy batteries produced with lithium?
Is there no perfect energy on planet Earth right now
that’s not destroying something with its “holier than thou”?

Rauc E. Sedilube is a poet of geology.


La Commedia Humana
          by Red Was Iceblue
          “O, dry bones, hear the word of the LORD”

The Human Comedy: Momento Mori, Ai Weiwei,
a nearly three-ton black glass sculpture o’er the central nave
of San Giorgio Maggiore, opposite Saint Mark’s,
an ossuary chandelier of skeletons and skulls,
hangs from the ceiling, with contorted human viscera,
as well as scattered, cluttered t/w/i/s/t/e/r/i/n/g/s and cameras,
lampooning social media and the surveillance state,
that monitors its citizens, so as to subjugate.
Remember that we all will die, way, way beyond this sec,
of wars, disease, and poverty, an’ th’ tyranny of tech.

Red Was Iceblue is a poet of New Millennial art. Ezekiel יְחֶזְקֵאל (c. 622 BC – c. 570 BC) was a Hebrew priest and prophet. Ai Wei Wei is a Chinese dissident, now living in the United Kingdom.


The Great Reset
          by Caud Sewer Bile

As Putin is deNazifying people in Ukraine,
Joe Biden’s fighting semi-Fascists in the USA.
So Xi Jinping is thrashing freedom-lovers in Taiwan.
The Great Reset is happening, and it goes on and on…

Caud Sewer Bile is a poet of Gog, Magog, and the Bog.


In War
          by War di Belecuse

In war, he couldn’t be content near grass and shrubbery.
There was not time for joy amidst the trees and greenery.
There was no time for scenery; he had to keep his guard.
O, life out in the open air was difficult and hard.
There was no peace, when one could be attacked at any time.
One could not love the gorgeous views in even sunfilled climb.
One had to look behind to see if one was coming close.
One had to watch the far horizon for the humming drones.
All beauty was ephemeral, a momentary thing.
In war there was no leisure for accord or tarrying.

War di Belecuse is a poet of war.


It is s…o rich, another d…eth in Washington DC;
Dan Rapoport, a Putin crit, “fell from his balcony”.
Was it a suicide as many want to say it was,
or just another rug to cover DC’s swept-up dust?


In Occupied Kadiivka
          by Radice Lebewsu

In occupied Kadiivka in the Luhansk area,
some soldiers from Ukraine attacked the Russian army base,
located i’ th’ Hotel named Donbas, on Friday last
and killed perhaps 200 Russian troops as a result;
that is, according to Serhii Haidai. The Russians claimed
ten HIMARS missiles, at the base, by AFU were aimed,
destroying buildings, slaughtering 200 personnel.
The Russians call the city Stakhanov, now some call hell.
For half a year the war goes on.


Ivan Fedorov
          by Radice Lebewsu

Ivan Fedorov was the mayor of Melitopol,
until the Russian military took him for a stroll,
with a black bag upon his head, March 2022:
when asked by Russia to cooperate, he had refused.
Since his release from his abduction, he does interviews,
as on the FreeDom TV channel, and reports the news.

Radice Lebewesu is a poet of Ukraine. Kaddiivka is a city of about 75,000 in Luhansk, Ukraine.


One of the largest Russian-building bases was attacked,
on territory of the Avtokoliorlyt plant,
a company that’s made non-ferrous metals recently,
for vehicles, and agricultural machinery.


El Caballero de la Mano en el Pecho
          by Raúl de Cwesibe

El Caballero de la Mano en el Pecho is
among first paintings by El Greco in Toledo, Spain.
The nobleman with hand upon his chest is similar
to many portraits painted by the artist in his works.

Could it be him himself, when he arrived in that small town?
or is that theoretic’lly unlikely to be true?
Or could it be a picture of Cervantes in those clothes,
who lost his left hand at Lepanto á decáde before?

Or is this a commission from a military man,
his hand abreast, with sword, to show him loyal to the king?
Whatever is the case this oil on canvas can be viewed
with other of his portraits at the Prado in Madrid.

Raúl de Cwesibe is a poet of El Siglo de Oro. El Greco (1541-1614) was a noted Spanish Mannerist painter, Cervantes (1547-1616), a noted Spanish writer, whose novels Don Quixote I & II show to what heights Spanish prose attained during El Siglo de Oro. Lepanto was a naval engagement of 1571.


Censoring in These Epoch Times
          by Caud Sewer Bile

Eliza Bleu, a trafficking survivor found out how
political free speech can be attacked by Twitter’s crowd.
The Thursday after interviewing, she found out that she
could not click on the link to her talk, due to censoring.
Her enemy, the human traffickers, want her suppressed;
they pressed the Twitter crowd to keep her story from the press.
It’s not surprising that that US company would strike
malicious content in a news source that they do not like,
especi’lly one that doesn’t kowtow to some marxist line,
so deep in human trafficking in these most epoch times.

Caud Sewer Bile is a poet of yellow journalism.


Joe Biden states, if Democrats retain the House, “no one
will [have] the opportunity to steal an election again.”

Aedile Cwerbus is a poet of Latin lit. As a juvenile, he enjoyed the strange gems of Juvenal.


The Figure Watering the Grass
          by Eber L. Aucsidew

I saw him watering the grass out in the summer sun.
He daydreamed he was spraying sugar on a cinnabun.
He knew that was not good for him, but still he loved to dream
of tasty things that he could eat, while doing anything.
He looked like as a figure in a Ray Bradbury tale,
beside the windowed, shuttered house, as the fine droplets sailed.
He loved abundant water, like an otter in a stream,
in playful animation, creek fun mete, beneath sun beams.
He stood above the lawn. He looked about—reflecting light—
and daydreamed he was there bedewing blue wings with his flight.

Eber L. Aucsidew is a poet of water. Ray Bradbury (1920-2012) was a PostModernist American writer.


The Shaver
          by Wic E. Ruse Blade

Each day he had to shave his face lest he obtain a beard.
Diurnally he cut his whiskers down from ear to ear.
The peerer at the mirror, looking down upon his chin,
knew that his task would keep appearing, o’er and o’er again.
He felt like as a lawn care worker, clipping grass each day;
yet still the shearer kept on shearing with his razor blades.
But he was thankful that he could continue paring hair,
because he knew one day he couldn’t do it anymore.
So on he went, so happily, to take another pass,
electric rotary in hand, o’er lip and cheeky span.

Wic E. Ruse Blade is a swashbuckling poet.


The launch of NASA rocket Artemis was scrubbed, because
one of the engines could not be set to the proper temp.


A Musical Launch
          by Educable Wires

When I was a youngster, around ten years of age, I bought my first two songs in a department store; and I still fondly remember them and that day; both by Johnny Horton, Sink the Bismarck and North to Alaska. And though he died that very year in a car accident, I didn’t hear of it for quite a long time, at around my thirty-fifth year. But it was odd, because even though I could still listen to those songs and others, I’d never hear any new tunes of his; and it wasn’t until some time after that I realized there was a void in down-home, historical music as well.

Educable Wires is a poet of popular music. “A Musical Launch” is a prose-poem. Johnny Horton (1925-1960) was a PostModern American rockabilly balladeer.


          by Rudi E. Welec, “Abs”
          “It’s just another day.”
              —Paul McCartney

Another cup of coffee creamed to face the World at large,
and then the morning exercising, so one will be charged.
This regimen supports this regiment of this regime,
which is inviting and exciting, though it be routine.
It hardly matters if one works out on a gym machine,
upon a tiled floor, or flat mat, low-down, mean aknee.
The key, of course, is to get revved up for the day at hand,
to make sure one is up to it…to take a doughty stand,
like as a white-tailed deer that jolts up from its sleepy lay
and bolts off through the forest to pursue another day.

Rudi E. Welec, “Abs”, is a poet of energizing life. He remembers, in previous abode, white-tailed deer eating fallen apples and pears, and wiping out even thorny roses. According to Beau Lecsi Werd, “regym” and “aknee” are words deducible from context and deductible from usage, if desired.


To Stimulate Autophagy
          by Rudi E. Welec, “Abs”

Aft last night’s feast he fasted till his morning exercise.
He did his stretches, squats and benches, pec-work, abs and thighs.
He took a sip of creamy coffee from his brimming cup.
He loved to stimulate autophagy while waking up.
Some push-ups, pull-ups, activating the AMPK;
he felt this was a good way to begin another day.
With ankles, wrists, he did some twists, becoming flexible.
From foot to head, he moved unfed, o, hardly sexiful.
And yet, he kept it up, the treadmill, far from jet and gee,
recycling old disfunctional cells into energy.

Rudi E. Welec, “Abs”, is a poet of exercise. AMPK stands for adenosine monophosphate-activated protein kinase. According to Beau Lecsi Werd, “sexiful” was a 1960s neologism by the British Postmodernist poet and prose writer Roald Dahl (1916-1990). “Gee” is a unit of acceleration equal to about 9.8 meters per second per second, approximating the acceleration fo gravity at the Earth’s surface.


A Cup of Coffee
          by Carb Deliseuwe

He was so happy for a cup of coffee in the morn.
It helped him focus on the tasks at hand. O, pour some more.
He was rejuvenated sitting in the breakfast nook,
as long as coffee was there too. It was a lovely hook.
He gazed upon the World around with open, clearer eyes.
He loved to watch the sunrise and its radiated skies.
It was like as he was a yogi in the lotus pose,
observing beauty everywhere he could at last suppose.
He didn’t need a paper or a phone to see the news.
It came to him in sweet repose, both sweet songs and the blues.


He Loved Organic Peanut Butter
          by Carb Deliseuwe

He loved organic peanut butter—that sveldt gentleman.
He loved how it contained just natural ingredients.
No sugar or molasses, or hydrogenated oil,
just some essentials vitamins and minerals, a joyal.

He loved the salt and peanut mixture; it was good to eat;
not overpowering or bitter, with a bit of sweet.
The creamy, luscious tan sludge, with no palm oil in its ess,
is not a pasty mess but is imbued with tastiness.

As peanut butter’s an emulsion with nonsolubles,
that are, in short, the finely ground-up peanut particles,
without the chemical homoginants, that go too far;
placed up-side-down, oil rises to the bottom of the jar.

Carb Deliseuwe is a poet of food. These days he is avoiding carbs. According to Beau Lecsi Werd, “joyal” is contextually understandable.