Heavy Metal Night In Suburbia - Andrew Barham

Guitars gleam, plastic screams
Long hair flowing in the spotlight's beam
Heavy Metal addicts in glittering chrome
Screaming obscene anthems from petrified stones,
Timbered symbols clashing vibrant tones,
The drummer slashing and crashing
To keep it going

Pictures of swords and sorcery,
And where would they be
Without His Satanic Majesty?
The sum total of your soul
Is the rainbow at the end of the gold-
Mine, empty and complete
Like every coked-out bimbo shakin' down the street:

A silent silver streak,
The aftermath's reek
From the King of the Mountain Hall,
Rockin' and boppin' to the ball
Turning above the dance floor

The singer cleaves a shelter for a comely wench
Amid the stage's sulfurous stench,
For they're brewing a devil's broth
These followers of David Lee Roth;
Before swallowing a variety of pills,
He sends a chill wind to blow away your ills:
Gag! Brag; the green queen's in drag!

Boredom and blown speakers as Rock n Roll steals another child
The air-guitarists are swaying wild;
Singer's long hair streaming down –
A perfectly permed mullet to reveal his mighty frown –
Another rebel without a reason;
They throw up a different group for every season.

Andrew Barham

The Circus - Karen Allaway

Glamorous circus arrives
In bejewelled principality.
A playboy paradise;
Yachts, prancing horses
Money and demigods.
In the pits
Fit chicks;
Barbie style!
Long bronzed legs
Go on for miles.

Chiselled features
There he sits -
Slim hips, tight fit;
In carbon fibre
Monocoque.
Highly sculpted -
Carbon and titanium
Wrapped aluminium V8.
Testosterone charged
High octane cocktail.

Nomex clad gladiators;
Podium finishers.
National anthems play.
Kisses and handshakes,
Glittering trophies.
Moët ejaculate
Tingles gustatory senses.
Back slaps
From faceless fans.
Circus Formula One.

Karen Allaway

No Money? No Problem! - Kathy Figueroa

I need a vacation
But don't have a car
Don't have much money
So I can't travel far
Once upon a time
I made a good buck
But things can happen
That change your luck
So, with the sunlight streaming
Through the window pane
Instead of my loss
I'll think of my gain
I'll remember it's good to be here
In my big easy chair
'Cause sometimes it's
Not always comfortable
In that world, out there
If, at faraway places
I still want to look
I'll just stick my nose
In a travel book
I'll save my few dollars
To pay my bills down
If I want to feel like a tourist
I'll wear my sunglasses
When I go shopping, downtown
Maybe I'll stop at a restaurant
To see what they're charging for food
Then go home and make lunch
And feel in a good mood
But not before I pick up a bottle
Of suntan lotion
(If the price is within reach)
Because the fragrance
Reminds me of the ocean
And lounging on the beach
Yes, I can lounge
In my big easy chair
With no worries about sunburn
Or what swimsuit to wear
No money? No problem!
Where there's a will there's a way
Anyone can have a holiday
And the beauty of it is
You don't even have to leave home
So, on that note, I'll end this poem

Kathy Figueroa

Junque Maximus - Kathy Figueroa

There's a Higher Power
That's much greater than me
To which I now turn
And make this plea:
'Please give me the strength
To live clutter free'
Circumstance has been kind
Now, I have too much stuff
If I don't declutter
It's going to be rough
Deciding what to clear out
Will be really tough
But, I'll count my blessings
That I've got more than enough
Guess I'll get some boxes
And just sort ruthlessly
So my home and garage
Finally look orderly
And not like a dusty museum
Or 'Ripley's Believe It Or Not'
'Cause that's how much
Fine junque that I've got
Thrift shops are so tempting
Their allure is like a siren's call
Garage sales exert magnetism
I'm helpless to resist at all
And the auction is like Nirvana
For treasures, fine and rare
Though I have tried
I can't stay away from there
I must, must, must divest
I'll only keep some
And get rid of the rest
I'll employ visualization
To psychologically prepare myself
And imagine going
To the cupboard
And clearing a shelf
I'll dust and arrange
And then.. oh, no..
This ploy isn't working
That I can see
Because I just can't part with
Those fancy pots for tea
Maybe with the closet
I'll have better luck
It should be easy
To find something
To donate or chuck
Clothes two sizes too small
Are still folded with care
But..oh, no..
One day I might need
Something smaller to wear
Or maybe that apparel
Could just use a bit of alteration
So, for cleaning out the closet
I feel hesitation
Yes, it's a major challenge
I'll have to meet
If I want my house
To look spacious and neat
But, maybe, one day
That work will be done
I'll consider this poem
To be.. Step One

Kathy Figueroa

Mourning Bird Song - K Svensson

She sits in her gilded cage
Gazing at the feathered forms
Drifting lazily on the wing,
Flying free on thermals
In skies of azure blue.

Peering through life’s window
She wonders, what if?
She had the courage
To fly free
Just like those other birds do.

Powder-puff clouds float by,
Breezes taking them
Destination unknown.
To tumble like tears,
For who?

She’s known no other life.
Let out, she briefly flies
Wings unfurled,
Soaring high,
Dipping low.

Going back to the keeper,
Met with scorn.
Wishing,
Hoping
Her song will be heard.

K Svensson