The Peace of Leader Maduro

Yes, Leader Maduro, that is a bomb
And you and your Ken-doll generals flinch
And all your medals and chains of office
Rattle like the bones of the Revolution

Look at your soldiers fleeing through the streets
Yes, look - they have no wish to die for you
“Justice!” you scream, “Maximum punishment!”
“And there will be no forgiveness!”

                                                              F­or whom?

The people and the priests you have murdered

Will pray for you

Absolution from the lips of the dead

We’ve always sailed among the stars, for they
Do swim around us in their hemisphere
The sea’s a map whereon is writ the moon
In all her moods and whims and vanities

And too the sun, for he flies east to west
And so if we but trace his path across
To Sidon from the Pillars of Hercules
We calculate our course by his long wake

Oh, yes, we sail across the seas and skies -
                  But I would sail the starlight in her eyes

A Straw Man Accessorized with Exclamation Marks from the Eighth Grade (Rainbow Brite™ © Glitter Optional)

I heard it, dude; it’s part of the nexus!
A floating island as big as Texas!
All made of straws, there in the Pacific!
It’s on the ‘Net, dude, it’s there, specific!

It’s a Russian plot, sponsored by Putin!
It’s on the ‘Net, dude, sure as shootin’!
Them plastic straws will soon bring down the grid!
They **** the whales; they even got a squid!

The science is settled; let’s make some laws:
The source of all evil is them plastic straws!!!!!!!

I am full up to here
inhabited, possessed
a vessel for imaginary beings
and things that never happened
silent voices whisper in my ear
my eyes dwell on imaginary landscapes
and I cannot rest

All the god-concatenated words
rattle and clatter inside me
they are not mine to control
I can only release them

Nouns skitter across my mind
verbs hunker down
in the shadows in the corners
A strong gerund is prying
open the locked door
My mouth
my fingers move

Spill out that which is inside
being emptied, I am refilled
Honey bees could distill the essence
into neatly stacked pages
I am not so accomplished

On the Packing of Intersectionality: A Cross-Cultural Study

By M. Poncy Hector-Tworbst, B.A., M.Ed., Ph.D. Candidate

Unpack that intersectionality
And privilege transphile autonomy
Unite the paradigm’s hegemony
In the diaspora of agency

Cross-gender all peripherality
In post-colonial diversity
Dialogue augmented reality
And deconstruct avatar identity

All for the cause of authenticity
(But mostly I’m all about me, me, me)

Seeing is believing, for which we can perceive
Believing is seeing, for which we can't perceive
There are infinite things that are, let alone aren't
That we cannot even dream of, let alone chart
Living in shadows of a universe unknown
From stardust we are born, where from death do we go?

Leaves, sticks, and seeds make up this six foot stalk.
Oh, how she blooms before the flashing lights!
Leaving men and women with a stunned gawk.
Oh, you cause the seeds of your kind at night,
to dream of heights they won't reach; how sadly
try the delusional. But in all kin,
is imprinted least a scar on their psyches.
Sacrificial offer in porcelain
is ritually performed by some daily.
If not for fame, glory, or money, then
to mirror fashion people's ideal beauty.
A cyclic mental disease that won't end.
Shhh.. Here she comes! The first, but not the least.
An appetizer for the famine feast!