Titanic. By Gwil James Thomas

Some 

people 

board 

the ship 

purely 

to

stand 

on deck 

and gleefully 

watch 

as it 

inevitably 

hits 

the iceberg - 

so 

that they 

can say 

that 

they got 

wet once

many years 

ago - 

their 

hearts 

already 

stone 

cold. 

Gwil James Thomas is a novelist, poet and inept musician originally from Bristol, England. His written work has been featured in 3 Poets, Low Light Magazine, 3AM, GOB, Mythos Zine, Bold Monkey, Cephalo Press, North of Oxford, Drinkers Only, Outlaw Poetry, The Beatnik Cowboy and also here. His sixth poetry chapbook Cocoon Transitions is available for preorder at Analog Submission Press. He is currently laying low somewhere in Northern Spain.

temporary restraining order. By jck hnry

i bumped into my past / recently / a friend / from high school

she looked at me / confused / after i said  hello / as if we'd never met

as if we never fucked / in the back / of her daddy's Camaro / in 1981

recognition came slow / memory incomplete / we made small talk

she seemed / nervous / as if someone / might catch her / talking

to a stranger /

it's been 37 years / since we connected / in the Camaro / before church

and sometimes after

i asked about family / kids / and related / seems she has a son / and three daughters

the boy is 36 / that gave me pause

two weeks later / a TRO is presented / she doesn't want me coming around / as if

i knew where she lived / or cared

jck hnry is a neo-modernist, post-apocalyptic writer, living in the hard scrub of a californian desert.  after a 10 year hiatus hnry is back at it.  recent publications include:

includes publication in Horror Sleaze Trash, Bold Monkey, Red Fez, dope fiend daily and a bunch of other noble zines and journals.  Chapbooks/Books: “Snow in Summer and the Playground is Closed,” “Empty Houses-Kendra Steiner Editions,” “the Downtown Cafe (Erbacce Press),” “With the Patience of Monuments (neoPoesis) ,” “Crunked, (Epic Rites)” and “the Righthand Curve of a Continuous Circle. (Blunt Trauma Press).”  hnry is also editor and publisher of "Heroin Love Songs, V2.0, 7thEd" available now. for more go to jackhenry.wordpress.com.

Close the Book. By Ahmad Al-Khatat

It’s the time to close

the book of negativity
Stop flipping over the
pages of wasted years
and stand in front of
-waves of confidence

It’s the time to close
the book of remorse
Start creating a place
for satisfaction above
-some dark thoughts
of attempting suicides

It’s the time to close
the book of long isolation
I want to feel like I am loved
to my country, back to my life
Smile again without wearing an
emotional smile that lasts forever

Ahmad Al-Khatat was born in Baghdad, Iraq. His work has appeared in print and online journals globally and has poems translated into several languages. He has been nominated for Best of the Net 2018. He is the author of The Bleeding Heart Poet, Love On The War’s Frontline, Gas Chamber, Wounds from Iraq, Roofs of Dreams, and The Grey Revolution. He lives in Montreal, Canada.

Mike Webster by Dan Provost

You would think
the NFL would initiate
a holiday for old
piano arms…

Pulling on a screen pass…

Taking out pursuit by
leading with his head.

Knocking down
potential tacklers

As Franco or Rocky
scooted into the endzone.

Triceps bulging as he went back
to the huddle…
Ready for some more
helmet to helmet
contact…

It is just unfortunate
that he was slowly
dying while doing his
job…

A scrambled noggin
back in the day was
seen as a badge
of courage
for lineman…

Could care less that
too many times, your
brain would slosh to the other
side of your skull…

During the millions
of collisions that
took place

during practice
and games…

But god damn it,
Bless Mike Webster…

He gave so much to
the Steelers dynasty…

Play after play, year
after year…

Not knowing
while in the process.

He gave the ultimate
sacrifice.

About Dan Provost: 

Dan Provost's poetry has been published throughout the small press for many years.  He is the author of nine books and lives in Berlin, New Hampshire with his wife, Laura--and their Bichon Frisce...Bella.

All Seasons Minus Winter by Rémy Boucher

Will see colors change and passions ignite.

Old favors and new desires bloom into a promise, of what most likely will never be.

The coin tossed into a empty well.
And a kiss that will linger for only a moment, is dead like the dreams within an old man's soul.

Winter knows the pain, that even a jaded soul as myself cannot dare to recall.

Rémy Boucher resides  in Québec and has been published in Scarlet Magazine, and The Shadowlands Magazine. He is currently working on his first poetry collection.

Generating Interest. By Ryan Quinn Flanagan

I may not get you rich,

but I know this guy who could get you pregnant,

he can’t stand protection, refuses to get a guard dog

and just leaves the door open,

hasn’t been robbed yet, but this one is definitely 

playing with house money;

I hear he shaves his legs though I’ve never seen it,

like the Great Wall of China,

I’m just generating interest, like the banks claim to do,

but I’m actually doing it;

if you want to sell the kid at some point, there’s a market for that too,

we could really drag things out, start a bidding war…

hell, if you’re willing to pop out ten to twelve puppies,

maybe I can make you rich after all, 

there’s money in those little goobers, I don’t know why,

but give me ten months and your banking information

and I could probably be skiing in Switzerland 

by the end of year.

Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a Canadian-born author residing in Elliot Lake, Ontario, Canada with his wife and many bears that rifle through his garbage.  His work can be found both in print and online in such places as: Evergreen Review, The New York Quarterly,The Rye Whiskey Review, Outlaw Poetry Network, Under The Bleachers, The Dope Fiend Daily and In Between Hangovers,

DMT. By John Patrick Robbins

Coming through the fog and being shot into space is the only way to describe it.
There is no pain or true sense of being .

No arguments,  it is the void of emptiness with a view of the cosmos I cannot describe .

It isn't life but it truly is the void beyond we fear known as death.

No Gods only a sense of existence that you are a spec on this plane .
There are particles and no people.

It was fifteen minutes of freedom I will dearly miss and experience only when my last breath is  expelled from my lungs.

The door is there but not all are ready to see.

I found peace far from everything I have ever known .

The bliss is in the understanding.

You will understand everything , the question is do you truly care to see behind the curtain.

Take all things into consideration and enjoy your trip .

John Patrick Robbins is the editor in chief of the Rye Whiskey Review , Under The Bleachers and
Drinkers Only .

His work has been published here at the Dopefiend Daily , Ariel Chart,  Punk Noir Magazine,  The San Pedro River Review , The San Antonio Review,  Oddball Magazine , As It Ought To Be Magazine and Piker Press.

He is also the author of Sex Drugs & Poetry  from Whiskey City Press , and Once Upon A Nervous Breakdown  from Soma Publishing .

His work is always unfiltered.