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

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 

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 

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

                                   

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.