you lie like a cheap rug, but I fill in the blanks for my own peace
you are just an actor, I am directing the scenes
you are not as powerful as you seem
all my power is found in the in-betweens
the venom rumors, toxic to your reputation
with all my information like a computer
are you sure you want to test me?

its all franchises
as far as you might see
burger joints, taco houses, and pizza parlors
dot the horizon

the whole lot
greasier than the pan
than the canola oil, a whole can of pam

its warehouse-sized stores
full of disgruntled
shuffling cheap trash
package to shelf
packaged for the shelf
in anticipation to sit

listen a while
under the low murmur
of the machine humming
you can hear ma n pop wailin'

People have a lot in common with coffee
Some of us are sweeter than others
Some of us taste of spice
Some of us are black
Some of us are brown
Some have too much milk and turn out white
Some of us are cheap
Some of us are not
Some of us are free
Some of us are not
We all came from different places
We all have different names
Americano, cappuccino, caramel latte
But as we all gather in this coffee shop
Only one thing is true
Coffee is coffee
What you make yourself is up to you

The straw that broke the camel’s back
A straw quite ordinary
Its weight did not mean very much
Not challenging to carry

But even though this measly straw
Was worthless on its own
It had a value and a strength
That was only timely shown

The straw itself, pretentious not
Had knowledge of its role
Quite useless was it by itself
This it could not control

But when it was allowed to be
A part of bale or heap
Its value all at once appeared
To be no longer cheap

And so one day to its surprise
It really didn’t know
It was the one who did the trick
Before anyone could say ’**!’

Wendy Nipas

Nobody cares anymore.

Money makes the world go round
Not the orbit of the sun.
The universe doesn’t matter anymore.

They say that we should keep our eyes wide open
But their eyes are glued down
At the screens that feed them information

Whether it is true or false
We don’t know anymore
We just go with it since we know no better.

As you get older
You accept the world
Instead of questioning it like you should.

So many things you could do
But you are cut off from it
Your eyes are blocked off behind the mask.

I wonder how many miles
Our thumbs must have scrolled
On our screens.

“Look at the moon,” they say
“Of course,” they reply but once they sit outside
They are back to scrolling through their phones.

“Slow down,” I want to say
“Everything will be okay.”
But everyone keeps rushing all the same.

They ignore the skies
And instead find their gold
In cheap, plastic, machine-made stars.

Imperfect Sonnet
by Michael R. Burch

A word before the light is doused: the night
is something wriggling through an unclean mind,
as rats creep through a tenement. And loss
is written cheaply with the moon’s cracked gloss
like lipstick through the infinite, to show
love’s pale yet sordid imprint on us. Go.

We have not learned love yet, except to cleave.
I saw the moon rise once ... but to believe ...
was of another century ... and now ...
I have the urge to love, but not the strength.

Despair, once stretched out to its utmost length,
lies couched in squalor, watching as the screen
reveals “love’s” damaged images: its dreams ...
and ******* limply, screams and screams.

Originally published by Sonnet Scroll

Keywords/Tags: tenement, rats, unclean, cheap, sordid, despair, squalor, TV, screen, sonnet, limp, limply, screams