THE MAINE EVENT

by Steven Kent

Cartoon by Nick Anderson

"Platner Suspends Senate Bid in Maine After Rape Accusation" —The New York Times, July 8, 2026

A Dem is out, and rightly so.

How very, very different, though,

The whole affair would surely be

If he were in the GOP—

He'd say she lied re: the event

And then he'd run for President.

Steven Kent is the poetic alter ego of writer and musician Kent Burnside. His work appears in 251, Asses of Parnassus, The Dirigible Balloon, Light, Lighten Up Online, The Lyric, New Verse News, The Orchards Poetry Journal, Philosophy Now, The Pierian, Pulsebeat Poetry Journal, The Road Not Taken: A Journal of Formal Poetry, Snakeskin, and Well Read. His collections I Tried (And Other Poems, Too) (2023) and Home at Last (2025) are published by Kelsay Books. 

THE DEEP STATE MADE ME DO IT

by Steven Kent

"Conservatives condemn Kristi Noem for 'twisted' admission of killing dog" —The Guardian, April 27, 2024

Within the MAGA GOP

It's possible, apparently,

To cross a line. (Who knew? Not me.)

Now Kristi Noem, VP-to-be,

Is suddenly a falling star.

They'll tolerate mere bigotry,

Caucasian male supremacy,

Repealing rights, dishonesty,

Assaults on our democracy,

But shoot your dog? A bridge too far!

Steven Kent is the poetic alter ego of writer and musician Kent Burnside. His work appears in 251, Asses of Parnassus, Light, Lighten Up Online, The New Verse News, Philosophy Now, Pulsebeat Poetry Journal, The Road Not Taken: A Journal of Formal Poetry, and Snakeskin. His collection I Tried (And Other Poems, Too) was published in 2023 by Kelsay Books.

RED TEAM VERSUS RED TEAM

by Shannon Anthony

Sounds like your party has a civil war

or self-implosion theme. Unfriendly fire:

Your taco bar comes with razor wire.

So now briefly, you are chiefly

claiming that your camp is

against the heartland champs

because the one point of Barbie, that doll,

is to be here to cheer, not cheered at all.

And because she once spoke

and you're proudly unwoke

you're rooting for the 49ers

to kiss the ring where the sun don't shine

forgetting every bad thing you ever said

about the city that gave you Nancy.

Cognitive dissonance and decline: Go red!

Knock yourself out with your bash (nothing fancy).

I think you'd agree I've got that right.

(I'm not male, but not pregnant, and I'm white.)

If you come to (such as they are) your senses

you'll see that concussions have consequences.

You're not immune, and this isn't a kingdom.

What happens in Vegas is just a symptom,

another test we'll hear he aced. Remember

the Big Game: That happens in November.

Shannon Anthony lives in Minneapolis.

L’SHANAH TOVA WISHES FROM ‘45’

by Jeremy Nathan Marks

When I lived in the western U.S. 

people told me that as a Jew 

I should value how the GOP 

made religion the foremost

test for American citizens. 

 

They said Democrats and Liberals 

were secularists

secular meaning socialist

a.k.a. godless 

there can be no covenant

no Eretz

unless you are free market capitalist

 

of course, socialism was 

one of Zionism’s foundations

think Kibbutz for instance

 

Subtext: I should become a Jew for Jesus. 

 

There are and have long been socialists 

who are religious 

their political-spiritual imagination  

just happens to range beyond 

the Rocky Mountains 

or a golf course in DeSantis land

to touch the former ghettos of Europe 

the current Cheders of Brooklyn 

and Buenos Aires and lots of places 

lost to the amnesiac memory 

of rapturists.  

 

Recently, ‘45’ wished my people 

L’Shanah Tova before telling 70+

percent of us that we voted 

to destroy America and Israel. 

 

What I want to know is 

if I change my voter registration 

to Trumpist, will Kanye and Elon 

also send me New Year’s wishes

 

How about Nick Fuentes?

Jeremy Nathan Marks lives in the Great Lakes region of Canada. His most recent book is Flint River published by Alien Buddha Press (2023). 

SENATE UNCERTAINTY

by Chris O’Carroll

by Mike Luckovich, The Atlanta Journal-Constitution

In an appearance back in his home state of Kentucky, Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell (R) downplayed the odds of Republicans reclaiming the Senate—and, by extension, him reclaiming the title of majority leader. In doing so, he suggested that “candidate quality” was a key factor.

“I think there’s probably a greater likelihood the House flips than the Senate,” McConnell said, according to NBC News. “Senate races are just different—they’re statewide, candidate quality has a lot to do with the outcome.” —The Washington Post, August 18, 2022

Mitchity-kvetchity,

Candidate quality

Doesn’t look great for the

GOP’s brand.

Voters seem cool to those

QAnonologists

Mouthing the lies MAGA

Wingnuts demand.

Chris O’Carroll is the author of The Joke’s on Me and Abracadabratude.  His poems have also appeared in the Potcake Chapbook series, New York City Haiku, Extreme Sonnets, Love Affairs at the Villa Nelle, and The Great American Wise Ass Poetry Anthology, among other collections.

PANDEMICS, SO CALLED

by Julian O. Long

Tweet from the bouche du grand oiseau

A federal appeals court suspended the Biden administration’s new vaccine requirement for private companies, delivering a major blow for one of the White House’s signature attempts to increase the number of vaccinations to corral the pandemic. The decision was issued by a panel of three judges appointed by Republican presidents in the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Fifth Circuit. The judges wrote that there was “cause to believe there are grave statutory and constitutional issues with the mandate,” staying the order while the court assesses it in more depth… The court gave the Justice Department until 5 p.m. Monday to respond to the challenger’s request for a more permanent halt to the mandate. —The Washington Post, November 7, 2021

So, could there be

pandemics, like georgics or

bucolics? To what lore might

they defer, not farmer talk

from the demobbed or mythic tales

cribbed from here and there.

They’d need to be straight

from the bouche du cheval

so to speak, hot off the press

pitch perfect, on point

get to the heart of the matter

etc., etc. And what if the heart

of the matter is no heart at all

now that three judges, appointed

by Trump and Reagan have delayed

the president's vaccine mandate

citing 'grave statutory and con-

stitutional issues'? Constitutional

issues, my ass! In all the blather

and politics of vaccination ob-

struction, there’s nothing to be

found resembling a constitutional

issue, or a human being for that

matter, except flipped upside down

and dying on a ventilator..

Julian O. Long is a previous contributor to The New Verse News. His poems and essays have appeared in The Sewanee Review, Pembroke Magazine, New Texas, New Mexico Magazine, and Horizon among others. His chapbook High Wire Man is number twenty-two in the Trilobite Poetry series published by the University of North Texas Libraries. A collection of his poems, Reading Evening Prayer in an Empty Church, appeared from Backroom Window Press in 2018. Other online publications have appeared or are forthcoming at The Piker Press, Better Than Starbucks, The Raw Art Review, and Litbreak Magazine.  Long has taught school at the University of North Texas, North Carolina State University, and Saint Louis University. He is now retired and lives in Saint Louis, Missouri.

TURN OUT THE LIGHTS?

by Gil Hoy

Bill Bramhall's editorial cartoon for Thursday, May 20, 2021, as Republican leaders turn against a bipartisan bill to create a January 6 commission for the U.S. Capitol insurrection. (Bill Bramhall/New York Daily News)

Nothing lasts forever.

Democracy’s

 

No exception.

 

We’ve arrived at 

That critical hour. 

 

The moment 

We’ve all been

 

Dreading. 

 

Like the moment

You realize 

 

Your parents 

 

Aren’t perfect. Will

 

America’s democracy 

Hold?

 

When a Grand Old Party

Has lost its soul. 

 

Sold its soul for  

A personality cult. 

 

Sold its soul for 

A man without one.

 

So many abandoned 

Principles. 

 

So many Cowards 

Telling

So many lies.  

 

Is the party over?

Gil Hoy is a widely published Boston poet and writer who studied poetry and writing at Boston University through its Evergreen program. Hoy previously received a B.A in Philosophy and Political Science from Boston University, an M.A. in Government from Georgetown University, and a J.D. from the University of Virginia School of Law. While at BU, Hoy was on the wrestling team and finished in second place in the New England University Wrestling Championships at 177 lbs. He served as an elected Brookline, Massachusetts Select Board Member for four terms. Hoy is a semi-retired trial lawyer. His work has recently appeared in Best Poetry Online, Muddy River Poetry Review,  Tipton Poetry Journal, Rusty Truck,  Mobius: The Journal of Social Change, The Penmen Review, Misfit Magazine, Rat’s Ass Review, Chiron Review, The New Verse News, and elsewhere. Hoy was a Best of the Net nominee last year.

OCTOBER 17, SWEETEST DAY

by Ron Riekki

or, this year, Sweatiest Day, how hot 

 

the goddamn gowns and gloves are in- 

side the war of the COVID wards, how 

STUPID are the anti-maskers, the 27— 

at my current count—White Housers 

positive, and here I’m a pessimist, 

seeing the ramifications, seeing the 

ventilators, seeing the conventions, 

 

packed with people; or maybe it’s 

 

the SWATest Day, the ICEist day, 

these days of mass pollution/mass 

arrests for immigrants just trying 

to go to mass, or to work; or may- 

be it’s the Sleepiest Day, the mass 

hypnosis of this world, being told 

that this virus will just "go away," 

 

told by someone who, by the way, 

 

could get re-infected, someone who 

just had a runny nose, but now who’s 

running for President when he has 

never yet actually been President, 

or been presidential, just swinging 

pendulums in front of our eyes, 

telling us we’re feeling sleepy, so 

 

sleepy; or maybe it is, as I said, 

 

the Heat-est Day, the Hottest Day, 

the hottest October 17 that’s ever 

been recorded, because, sadly, 

that’s the theme of this year, how 

there haven’t really been any holi- 

days this year, just evil-days, sad- 

days, maydays, doomsdays, play- 

 

days where kids can’t touch, birth- 

 

days where we can’t hug, because 

we’re on an expressway to hell if 

we don’t stop the way we treat 

the world and the way we treat 

each other, if we fall for the tricks 

that led us to this collapse, the tricks 

of 2016 where the U.S. was covered 

 

in red.  Honestly, aren’t you, too, tired? 

Ron Riekki's latest books in 2020 are Niiji (Cyberwit, co-written with Sally Brunk), i have been warned not to write about this (Main Street Rag), and The Many Lives of It (McFarland).

WILLIE THE SHAKE'S BEEN SHOOK AWAKE!

by Alan Soffin

To be, or not to be?
That is the question.
Whether ’tis nobler in the House
To suffer the Tweets and Falsehoods of our great misfortune
Or to take votes against the See of troubles
And by opposing, end him? To cry, to weep,
No more, and by that weeping say we end
The heartache and the endless verbal schlock
That citizens are heir to. ‘tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wished. To cry, to weep;
To weep: perchance to scream; Oy, there’s the schlub;
For while we weep near death, what schemes may come
When we have shuffled off his rotten coil,
Must give us pause; there’s the respect
That makes calamity of public life;
For who would bear the whips of K street crime,
The T***pish wrongs, the constant contumely,
The pangs of threatened healthcare, the GOP’s delay,
The soullessness of Mitch and the spurns
That patient merit of the greedy takes,
When we ourselves might our withdrawal make
With a bare ballot. Who would injustice bear,
But that the dread of something after T***p,
The undiscovered source from whose bourn
The ruthless right returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those crooks we have,
Than fly to Pence and those we know not of ?
Thus conscience doth make outcasts on the Mall
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o’er with stale cant that’s bought,
And legislation of great pith and moment
With this regard await a better day
Beyond the grasp of faction—Soft you now!
The Statue Liberty, in all thy orisons
Please be democracy remembered!

Alan Soffin, Ph.D., has taught at Michigan State and Temple. His Rethinking Religion: Beyond Scientism, Theism and Philosophic Doubt is published by Cascadia Press. His essays have appeared in Images of Youth (Peter Wang) and DreamSeeker magazine. His photography has been exhibited at the Tubac Center for the Arts. His avant-garde film Confessor (1968) was funded in part by the American Film Institute.

ADVICE FROM THE PATRIARCHY

by Howard Winn

Original cartoon by Bruce MacKinnon

Be a good girl and leave things as they are
since that arrangement has worked well
for us over the ages as we found
power and satisfaction with the way
issues have operated to our advantage
and questioning only gets in our way
you may cry a little when the time
seems appropriate but not kicking or
screaming that would be disturbing
and shift the attention to any ill treatment
you may see and feel for the way
we run the society has worked for us
and you ladies or girls should step aside
or submit when we desire it and your
feelings or even intellect is secondary
to our feelings of seniority and grandeur
even our misplaced anger is part of the
way we have built our sense of superiority
and supremacy which must not be
questioned in this patriarchy we have
fashioned over time and generations
to our benefit and personal profit

Howard Winn's novel Acropolis is published by Propertius Press. He has poems in the Pennsylvania Literary Journal and in Evening Street Magazine.

INCANTATION: LET THE MAGIC BEGIN

by Mare Leonard

art by Noely Ryan @ ArtStation

You can't catch me, I'm the Gingerbread Man. I can grab your pussy, stick out my tongue, spit, sputter like geysers from below.

Into what hell of fake news,  ruse of tax cuts,  mountains of lies, the lawyer in the room guise  stirs the cauldron  today? Don't lean on hopes of Flynt. He scratched a rock, lit a light of immunity for morality or him? Like a geyser, he may spark, sputter, reach to the sky and fizzle. The devil resides in the cauldron below. Deep under the caw caw of the crow, geysers spout up and we shout this is it, the one, howl, don't let babies burn  burn, burn, don't let lifelines fall through the cracks, don't give  billions to the rich. don't mock the middle, the poor, the immigrant. Drown out congressmen in LaLaLand who like Marie Antoinette shout, Let them eat cake. Geese honkhonk, Resist. How does the GOPP, the party of the pedophiles exist, how do they move and eat and sleep? Hooked on opiods, burgers, midnight tweets, a belief in trickle down economics, the lie that sweeps the donors cash for their ten thou dinner treats, another castle on a hill?  We observe, take photos when the earth splits, sweeps you all below. We sing, you can run you but you can't hide, you can shout  but Mueller and the FBI will  crack you GingerBreadMan and your vanilla wafer friends. You'll tremble and crumble, rollrollroll into the underland.  And in the heavens  the #MeToo will light the sky.  We'll sing, love, love, love, hug women, men, babies, The LGBTQ, DACA, Muslims all who  rise from the dead to hear from above no one can  pardon the King of Scam.

Mare Leonard lives in an old school house overlooking The Rondout Creek. Away from her own personal blackboard, she teaches through the Institute for Writing and Thinking and the MAT program at Bard College.  Although her most natural writing voice is humorous she has published in a range of voices and in all forms and subject matters. She was a finalist in last year's NY State Di Biase contest. Some of her latest publications appear in the Vietnam poetry publication from Perfume River, Rats Ass Review, Figroot, Sweet Tree, Eunoia and in the British Journal of Arts&Letters.

CLINTONATIONS

by Edmund Conti

When you argue with the GOP
Be sure to bring your best artillery.
Their argument you won’t foresee.
It goes like this:  “But Hillary.”

Your facts can sting like a bumblebee,
Dance and flit like a fritillary.
They’ll just respond with calm and glee,
“But Hillary.”

You can argue till your face is blue,
Till you get inane and sillary.
Your logic will be turned on you—
“But Hillary.”


Edmund Conti has not been published in The New Yorker nor has he won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry but …

MICE

by Samantha Pious

TheNewVerse.News construction from images found at Zimbio and Meridian Magazine.

after Eustache Deschamps’ “But Who’s the One to Bell the Cat?”

Among the mice (I’ve heard it told)
a special Congress was convened
against the Cat, their hated foe,
to seek some implement or means
whereby they might at last live free
in safety and security
without resorting to extremes.
—Why not achieve a coup-d’état?
Together we can bell the cat!

The caucus met, the bill was law,
the congress-mice adjourned their session.
One country-mouse, from out of town,
she shoulders in to ask a question —
what’s been done? We have a weapon,
they reply, to smash that wicked feline flat.
This bell, which shall be hung from round
his neck, will sound whenever he attacks.
Together we can bell the cat!

There’s strength in numbers. One gray rat
requests to know to whom the Bell
shall be entrusted. As to that,
none of the congress-mice can tell!
The Speaker squeaks for personnel.
Not one brave mouse will go to bat
(not even for a subcontract)
though catchy slogans always sell:
Together we can bell the cat!

These words ring hollow now. Alack.
But there’s still time for one last act.
Can we protect our habitat,
Republicans and Democrats
together? We can bell the cat!

Samantha Pious is the author of A Crown of Violets (Headmistress Press, 2015), a selection of translations from the poetry of Renée Vivien. More of her translations and poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Doublespeak, Lavender Review, Mezzo Cammin, and other publications.

LET OBAMACARE FAIL

by Jeremy Thelbert Bryant

“Let Obamacare fail,” he says
like “Let them eat cake”
like privilege is universal
like old folks don’t get older, sicker
like men don’t have prostates
like women don’t have breasts
like cancer is fake news
like kids don’t break
like everyone stays in a tower
like all inherit their daddies’ money
like no lives matter
like the leader of a country doesn’t care

Jeremy Thelbert Bryant is a poet and a writer of creative nonfiction. He is a graduate of the low residency MFA program at West Virginia Wesleyan College. When he is not teaching English, he is burning incense, listening to music, drinking coffee, and writing. His work may be found in Pikeville Review and Prism. He finds inspiration in the red of cardinals, in the honesty of Frida Kahlo’s artwork, and in the frankness of Tori Amos’ lyrics.

MIXED MESSAGE: A HISTORY LESSON 2017

by Alan Catlin

Capitol Police drag disabled protesters out of wheelchairs during Trumpcare protests. Forty-three people were arrested in connection with the protest. In some instances, police helped protesters back into their wheelchairs before forcibly removing them, but others weren't treated so generously Jacquelyn Martin/AP via The Independent (UK) June 22, 2017.

This is what
the Fascists did
in the 1930s and 40s:

cleansed the race
of the genetically impure

the mentally ill
sexual deviants
gypsies
jews

the cripples
and the infirm

Now here
in Washington DC
Today in June of 2017

republicans release
details of crafted-in-secret
No Health Care bill

arrest the protestors
in the halls of Congress:

the disabled in wheelchairs
on oxygen
disability disadvantaged all

and either forcibly carry them out
or escort them from in front
of the Majority Leader of the Senate’s
office door outside

to where the box cars are waiting.





Alan Catlin is poetry editor of online journal misfitmagazine.net. His latest book of poetry is American Odyssey from Future Cycle Press.

BLOOD, COFFEE, AND A COVERED LIFE

by Jill Crainshaw

Daily Signe Cartoon 03/14/17

The old hymn from my childhood pounds out
a heat-beating rhythm in my head.
“There is power, power,
wonder-working power
in the blood,”
while plasma charts a course
through octogenarian veins,
a crimson thread
marking a jagged line
between life and death.

“Here you go, honey,”
the Starbucks barista said
and her eyes smiled
while her mouth hid
behind one of those disposable face masks
medical center workers were wearing
that windy winter day.
I smiled back, took the potent elixir,
and drank,
as the dark roasted incense swirled.

Battle lines are drawn,
expiration date unknown but certain
as soon as womb-water breaks
onto unmapped territory.
“It could go either way,”
the hospitalist said.
“But it’s all covered.”
I Googled “hospitalist”
and waited
for a lingering red pearl to let go.

Jill Crainshaw is a professor at Wake Forest University School of Divinity and a Presbyterian minister. Her work has appeared in Star 82 Review, Mused: Bella Online Literary Review, and Panoplyzine. She is a frequent contributor to the Unfundamentalist Christians blog.

THE PROBLEM OF WHITENESS

by Darrell Petska

Snow-covered Abraham Lincoln
statue in front of Bascom Hall
 Photo by Jeff Miller, University
of Wisconsin-Madison Photo Library.

Republican legislators in Wisconsin are threatening to reject the University of Wisconsin-Madison's requests for additional state funding unless an elective course they find offensive is cancelled and its professor is fired. Rep. Dave Murphy, chairman of the Wisconsin Assembly’s Committee on Colleges and Universities, told the Milwaukee Journal Sentinel he believes the course “The Problem of Whiteness” contributes to “the polarization of races in our state.” —Slate, December 22, 2016 

Some rubes in America's Dairy Stand
say U'd better teach just what they command
or they'll wave their Nazi luger
i.e. hold back on their lucre—
curdling Dairy into the New Reich Land.

Darrell Petska's writing appears in The Missing Slate, Whirlwind, Verse-Virtual, Mobius: The Journal of Social Change, previously in TheNewVerse.News, and numerous other publications. Darrell cut short his career as a university editor to be the arbiter of his own words. He lives in Madison, Wisconsin.

YELP REVIEW: NORTH CAROLINA STATEHOUSE

by Jesse Bradley

Here, the sorest losers are a swarm
of wasps; they treat democracy
like a neck trickling with sweat.

With enough stings, your throat swells
until the protest dies
before it can leave your tongue.


J. Bradley is the winner of Five [Quarterly]'s 2015 e-chapbook contest for fiction.

NOMINATING HIGH RISK

by Margaret Rozga 

“Top of the Ticket” cartoon by David Horsey / Los Angeles Times, June 2, 2016.

Imagine a rabbit, running, late.
Imagine a rabbit no earlier
on the ground than under.

Alice locked out of the garden
too big, too small, never right
as much on the ground as under,

uncertain of direction,
advised only to take the road
that gets her where she wants to go,
as if she knew, either on the ground or under.

Even at tea, her place changes,
is changed, exchanged, until
she’s displaced, no rhyme nor reason
either on the ground or under.

At the queen’s command an unruly hand
of insubstantial and un-gamely subjects.
At risk anyone, everyone’s head,
no less on these grounds than under.

What time is this, what times are these,
rude, rough, incomprehensible
how a rabbit’s world surfaced,
and calm picnic grounds went under.

Alice, you just dreamed you fell and didn’t
know when, how, or where you’d stop.
Now that dream is playing out
on our ground,
not under.

Margaret Rozga is a poet, essayist, and author of a play, March On Milwaukee: A Memoir of the Open Housing Protests.  Her new manuscript of poems focuses on Jessie Benton Frémont (1824-1902), who actively campaigned in 1856 for her husband  John Charles Frémont, the first Republican candidate for president on an anti-slavery platform.

CIRCUS ELEPHANTS

by Ed Shacklee

Dave Granlund Cartoons

In Cleveland, pachyderms regroup

as hired clowns arrive in troop

to fan the flames and jump the hoop,

rousing rubes they hope to dupe.

With talk so cheap our shoulders droop,

reporters keep us in the loop,

but pomp cannot conceal the poop—

so little news, so much to scoop.

Ed Shacklee is a public defender who represents young people in the District of Columbia. He is working on a bestiary.