Marshall Gass
Marshall Gass
Aug 5, 2014

behind the glass door things happen
to stay behind the glass door
until things have happened.

don't ever stick your hand
into the magic happening
or else a bubbly bone will remain.

dont even try putting a golf ball
in to cook
or an egg
because only egg heads do that.

behind the glass door
water droplets use vibrators
and get superhot
you are not supposed to watch
but you do anyway.

don't get zapped
when you are not looking.

Author Notes

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 8 days ago

- See more at:­ash.0iCzdTmh.dpuf

Microwave myself away
Nicholas James Berlincourt

Pajama pants

milk in glass

watching clocks that don’t move fast




the same.

Microwave myself away

past the unsettling thoughts

into the very daunting forefront.

May I never sing like an angel again

For you, and no one else that cares

for more than a drink and a meaningful stare.

Christopher Mellon
Christopher Mellon
May 11, 2012

my love life and meals
are embarrassingly similar.
Except, every once and awhile,
I dine out! In the spirit of the fifties!
when men were men, and cars were fast
before easy instructions, and lonely, lonely, beeps.

Apr 7, 2014

I act brave sometimes
But I’m not
And I think I’m being microwaved
Boiling from the inside out
I shake inside
And on occasion on the outside too
I act brave sometimes,
But I have an image to uphold,
So I don’t let them see me cry,
Or laugh.
When will the electrons explode?
Cover me up
I’m splattering about

March 27, 2014
Bombing in the microwave
Peter Christian Ness

Chew the water, and don't breathe the air
You weave Apocalypse in your loom
You paint Armageddon on your easel
Black watercolour
Made from human ash
Bombing in the microwave
The embers will die, and the winds will cease
Like the fingernails of a corpse
Trudge into malevolent oblivion
Convinced by the impotent fallacy of happiness;
Generation Nuclear Apathy
Generation Destiny Liquidation
...And the minute counter ticks away...

Eliot was wrong
This is how the world ends
This is how the world ends
This is how the world ends
Not with a whimper
But a bang.

The Crimea-situation and military mobilization has the doomsday clock ticking down to World War III, and a slight tingling fear creeps up my spine.
Aug 22, 2013

the difference between the way
i cooked and the way you cooked
is that you would get everything
ready first and I would pull things
from the fridge as I went, you made
everything from scratch but the one
thing I taught you was how to make
perfect kraft macaroni

(c) Brooke Otto
Ugochukwu-Charles Onyewuchi
Ugochukwu-Charles Onyewuchi
Nov 30, 2012      Nov 30, 2012

Skyscrapers and mango trees wearing boxer briefs.

The tantalizing wind blows caressing paperclips and mortuary signs—
turning them indigo red for we all know that dead bodies are nothing but dead.

Hymns of love and soliloquies of the unconscious ego—
Id of our time but men of the past be our hero.
Leaving to wonder, if king Nebuchadnezzar was a crack-feign
would Coca Cola still educate penguins on the importance of Lesbian Existence?

For in this war of life, cockroaches are the real winners,
and the taste of excellence is only reserved for fire extinguishers —

so if nuclear clouds persist,
let the fire burn with love and you lay on the bed of oblivion
cuddling the moral that capitalism leads to schizophrenia.

So insure your sanity for free 99, this, with warm regards from yours truly,

                                                               ­              Rhizome of Golgotha.

Chinar Mehta
Jun 18, 2013      Jun 19, 2013

I have been licking the cream off
The nothing I was forced to cook from the book I bought.
I am Charles Bukowski waiting to rupture,
And tumble into forces of uncontrolled madness.
I dinge into fleeting, changing rooms
And become pages of yellowing, worm-books.
I write my own obituaries, each for a different
Person I have lived.
I make love twice every week,
And keep a count of how many times
He calls out someone else’s name.
I caution into keeping everything beautiful to myself.
I cup my hands and keep passion in my hidden chest,
And lock my doors with the only key there is.
I dine alone, I read in hushed whispers over single-serving thoughts.
And sleep where no one can put an arm around my waist,
And undulate the black-flavoured dreams I so carefully reared.
There is only one victory,
There is only one woman in the world.
It is I. It is I. It is I.

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