Friday, June 30, 2017

day ONE HUNDRED and SIXTY TWO



a weapon for hate

this dystopian playground
for the rich and the rich
only

they took the flag your
family died for and turned
it into a weapon for hate

a dividing line not made
of color, but of class

this is what the revolution
truly was about

no rich person has ever
given two shits about
religion

enough money will make
anyone feel like a god

too much money and they
will sadly act upon that
fucked up notion

but, you voted for him

don't bitch to me about your
job leaving for mexico and
your healthcare benefits are
going away

you're the dumb fuck that
fell for the con man

the rich gave up those blue
collars a few centuries ago

--J.J. Campbell



Thursday, June 29, 2017

day ONE HUNDRED and SIXTY ONE



Ostriches and Camels

White Bliss scratched
Mr Munson scratched
Spicebomb change overcheck
The American Kings go on at ten
complete with lights and Morricone’s theme
The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

Elvis hips swing, the velocity of slicked back hair
ancient couples in matching t-shirts, matching socks, shiny shoes
swing, get low on carpets
that are an ocean on the right drugs

Jimmy Reed covers as the Pens start
period three, on one tv a latino jockey
rides with an American flag
they superimpose him and the flag
layers of patriotism, all the glory

Rickenbacker and Gretch
pretty in the backlight
nurses and business men
leopard prints and sequins
do the shimmy, the swim
the bunny hop, white hair bobs
along to Louie Louie

The Pens are going down
The tv advertises stud fees
ostriches and camels june sixteenth
Corona bottles turn red, lost in lights
as patrons cheer the first set
shiny shoes  still shiny

a man from buffalo says
Why are we even looking at ice
it’s goddamn fucking June?

--Jason Baldinger 

Wednesday, June 28, 2017

day ONE HUNDRED and SIXTY



They’re Killing Our Girls

They’re killing our girls
in homes
at schools
with knives and guns
and beatings.

They’re killing our girls
at rock concerts
with bombs full of bolts and screws.

They’re killing our girls
stealing them on their way to school
locking them in marriage
and pregnancy
and then slitting their throats.

They’re killing our girls
telling them what to wear
what to eat
how to look
what to say
where they can and cannot go.

They’re killing our girls
for saying no
for saying yes
for speaking at all.

While we shake our heads
and wring our hands
and wonder about the lone wolf
who shoots up the school
who blows up the church
trying to figure out why

these men murder
paint them as unique or deranged
remember they have always
been targeting
and hunting
and killing our girls.

--Ally Malinenko 

Tuesday, June 27, 2017

day ONE HUNDRED and FIFTY NINE

mitch mcconnell feels your pain

or he’d like you to feel more
it’s hard to tell with mitch sometimes

maybe he knows what it’s like
to get pulled out of a wheelchair
and dragged down the hall

feeling gutted like medicaid
defunded like planned parenthood

do you think he bro-slapped paul ryan
after puking up that piece of health legislation?

or did he drop the mic on that eddie munster looking frat boy
and say, how ‘bout them apples, bitch?

or do white dudes on capitol hill just nod and wink
after they’ve sentenced millions of people to death?

seal the deal with a glass of scotch
and a hearty laugh

what i mean to say is…does mitch mcconnell
really feel your pain, america?

or is he just looking for that lost cheez-it
hidden somewhere under that neck of his

making poker plans with his corporate masters
readying that independence day bbq

thinking about his dry cleaning
reveling in his sweet parking spot

all the while waiting patiently
for the rest of us to stumble off

and die

--John Grochalski

                                   


Monday, June 26, 2017

day ONE HUNDRED and FIFTY EIGHT

The Orange Menace on Vacation at the Parthenon

One of my guys told me people used to get together here, a cult drawn to huge spectacle. Such a temple. Can you imagine? And the statue of that broad, Athena—a god, really. Or goddess. Whatever. And it had gold inside. If a real broad could be like that, right? Such a historical place. Really, really historical. Or historic; it doesn't matter. We were going to do a casino just like this. It’s true! But then I thought it would look really, really bad. This place is like, it’s in disarray. Disgusting in a lot of ways. So much of it got smashed by a bunch of Italians—greedy, greedy Italians before there was an Italy, OK. But you have to respect that—going in and just destroying someplace because you want to, saying goodbye to sculptures that would be worth a fortune. Why the hell not? They just came in and blew it up. Kablooey, right? No insurance. But it’s still really, really historical. So it means a lot to be here. I mean, I’ve been to nicer places that are in one piece, but this is neat!

--Daniel M. Shapiro
(poem previously appeared in Menacing Hedge)



Daniel M. Shapiro is the author of Heavy Metal Fairy Tales (Throwback Books, 2016), How the Potato Chip Was Invented (sunnyoutside press, 2013), and The 44th-Worst Album Ever (NAP Books, 2012). He is a senior poetry editor with Pittsburgh Poetry Review.