STRAIGHT TALK FOR AMTRAK JOE

by Patricia Phillips-Batoma 

One of the photos Lunden Roberts posted on Instagram of her daughter during a trip to Washington.

After Maureen Dowd, “It’s Seven Grandkids, Mr. President,” The New York Times, July 8, 2023

Mr. President, for the love of God, learn to count to seven—
one boy, six girls—and include the one named Navy.
Be quick. You hold a ticket for the good old train to heaven.
 
You love to fist bump all of America’s little children,
except one who hopes you’ll call and waits so patiently.
Please, Joe, for God’s sake, learn to count to seven.
 
What’s more she’s cool. A true made-for-shades Biden.
Gift her your good name and wrap it in some empathy.
Snap to it, you hold a ticket for that good old train to heaven.
 
It’s embarrassing to have to give a President a lesson,
and hard truths voice themselves with such severity.
So, no more malarky, just count all the way to seven.
 
Once those pearlies close, you might sense some tension,
the sound of heart space, forever and forever empty.
Too late, the good old train pulls into the eternity of heaven.
 
Spare her the taunts, this awful earthly aggression.
Navy! Navy! Not a welcome baby!  So can you maybe,
Joseph Robinette Biden, count all the way to seven?
Even presidents hold a ticket for the good old train to heaven.

Patricia Phillips-Batoma is a writer and teacher who lives in Illinois. She has published poems in Skylight 47, An Capall Dorcha, The New Verse News, Off Course, and Spilling Cocoa over Martin Amis.

ON NOT WINNING THE LOTTERY AND THE WISDOM OF STEPHEN WRIGHT

by Wayne Scheer

So a billion and a half bucks
went to someone else,
someone who bought a lottery ticket
after pumping gas
or buying a container of milk at the supermarket,
someone who threw down a couple of dollars
on a whim.

This means I won't be cruising around the world anytime soon,
or wearing tailor made suits,
or donating to my favorite causes,
or financing friends and family.
No new cars in my future,
no new mansions, no summer homes in The Hamptons
with servants to cook and clean for me.

This means I'll be spending time at home
sleeping in my own bed, my head on my own pillow,
wearing comfortable jeans, driving my 1995 Mazda,
donating twenty bucks now and then to a good cause,
helping family and friends by being there for them, sans checkbook,
and my wife will continue cooking comfortable meals
and I will continue cleaning up afterward.

I'll have free time to write and read,
follow baseball news and politics,
watch cop shows on television with my sweetheart at my side.

There will be no need
to speak with lawyers, estate planners, tax consultants, financial advisors,
real estate agents, interior designers, travel consultants
and distant cousins
with a once-in-a-lifetime investment opportunity.

I didn't buy a lottery ticket
like that guy who won a billion and a half bucks
because I already have what I need,
and as Stephen Wright says,
“You can't have everything. Where would you put it?”

Wayne Scheer has been nominated for four Pushcart Prizes and two Best of the Nets. He's published numerous stories, poems, and essays in print and online including Revealing Moments, a collection of flash stories. His short story “Zen and the Art of House Painting” has been made into a short film.

I AM: THE ARREST OF SANDRA BLAND

The following is a found poem created by the Editor of TheNewVerse.News from the words of Sandra Bland (according to a HuffPost transcript prepared by Ryan Grim with Matt Ramos and Dhyana Taylor from the dash cam video) as spoken to Texas state trooper Brian Encinia and, later, a female officer, after Encinia stopped Sandra Bland's car on July 10. Sandra Bland was later found dead in a Waller County, Texas jail cell.

Sandra Bland

Got here just
today.
I’m
waiting
on you. This
is your job.
                             I'm
                             waiting
                             on you. What
do you want
me to do?
I am.
                             I really am.
I feel
like it’s crap what
I’m
getting a ticket for.
I was
getting out of your way.
You were speeding up,
tailing me,
so I move over and you stop me.
So yeah,
I am
a little irritated., but
that doesn’t stop you
from giving me
a ticket.
You asked me
what was wrong,
now I told you.
So now
                 I'm
                                  done,
                                                     yeah.
I'm

in my car.
Why do I have to
put out my cigarette?"
I don't have to step
out of my car. Why
am I . . .  No, you

don't have the right. No, you
                                                  don't have the right. You
                                                                                             don’t have the right. No, you
                                                  don’t have the right
to do this.

I refuse

to talk to you other than
to identify myself.

I am

getting removed
for failure to signal?

And I'm

calling my lawyer.
OK,
you're going to
yank me
out of the car?
OK,
alright. Let’s do this.
Don't touch me!
                             Don't touch me.
                                                          Don't touch me!
I’m

not under arrest.
You
                                                 don't have the right
to take me
out of the car

I'm

under arrest?
For what?
                For what?
                                For what?
                                                 Why
am I

being
apprehended? You’re trying
to give me a ticket
for failure . . .

                      Why

am I

being
apprehended? You just
opened my—

So you're threatening
to drag me out
of my own car?
And then . . .

Wow.
        Wow.

                                  For a failure to signal?
You're doing all this
                                  for a failure to signal?

Right. Yeah,
let's take this to court.
Let’s
do this.
                                  For a failure to signal? Yup,
                                  for a failure to signal!

I'm

not on the phone.
I have a right
to record. This
is my property.

Sir?

for a fucking failure to signal.
My
goodness.
Y’all are interesting.
                                    Very interesting.
You feelin’
good about yourself?
                                  You feelin’
                                  good about yourself?
                                                                     For a failure to signal,
you feel real
good about yourself
don’t you?
                                  you feel
                                  good about yourself
                                  don’t you?

Why

am I

being arrested?

Why
can’t you . . .

                                  Why

                                   am I

                                   being arrested?

Why
don’t you tell me
that part?

Why
will you not tell me
w     h     a     t     ‘     s           g     o     i     n     g          on     ?

I’m
not complying
‘cause you just pulled me
out of my car.
Are you
fucking
kidding me? This
is some bull . . .
'Cause you know this
straight bullshit. And you're
full of shit.                 Full of straight shit.
That's all y’all are
is some straight scared cops.
South Carolina
got y’all bitch asses
scared. That’s
all it is.
Fucking scared          of a female.
I was trying
to sign
the fucking ticket --   whatever.
Are you fucking
serious? Oh
I can’t wait
'til we go to court.
O     o     h
I
can’t wait.
I
cannot wait
'til we go to court.
                                     I can’t wait.
                                                               Oh I can’t wait!
You want me
to sit down now?
Or
are you going to throw me to the floor?

That would make you feel better
about yourself?
                                                              Nah that would make you feel better
                                                              about yourself.

That would make you feel real good wouldn't it?

Pussy ass.
                  Fucking pussy.
                                                              For a failure to signal
                                                              you’re doing all of this.
In little ass
Praire View,
Texas.
My God they must have ...

I’m getting a --
for what?           For what?
I’m getting a warning
for what?           For what!?
Well you just pointed me
over there! Get
your mind right.

O      o      h
I swear
on my life,
y'all are some
pussies. A pussy-ass
cop,
for a fucking signal you’re
gonna take me to jail.
                                                     For a fucking ticket. What
                                                     a pussy. What
                                                     a pussy. You’re about
to break my fucking wrist!

I’m
standing
still!

You keep moving
me, goddammit.

Don't touch me.
                                                      Fucking pussy  --
                                                                                                     for a traffic ticket.
You asked me
what was wrong!
Do I feel
like I have anything
on me?                                          This a fucking maxi dress.
                                                                                                     This a maxi dress.
                                                      Fucking assholes. You’re
about to break my wrist. Can you
stop? You’re about to fucking
break my wrist! Stop!!!          
                                                      For a fucking traffic ticket,
                                                                                                      you are such a pussy.
You are
such a pussy.
For                                                 a traffic signal!
Don’t it make you feel
real good
don’t it? A female
                                                      for a traffic ticket.
Don’t it make you feel
good Officer Encinia? You're
a real man now.

I got
epilepsy, you motherfucker.

Good?

Good?

Make you feel real
good for a female. Y'all
strong, y'all real
strong.

I
can’t go
anywhere with
your fucking
knee
in my
back,
           duh!

Whatever,                           whatever.

If I could,                            I can't.

                                            I can't even
                                                                                      fucking feel my arms.

Goddamn.
                                            I can't . . .

You just
slammed my head into
       the ground and you
                                      do not even care ...

                                             I can't
                                                                                     even                                              hear.

He slammed my
fucking head
into the ground.

What
the hell.
All of this                               for a traffic signal.
I swear to God.
All of this                               for a traffic signal.

Thank you for recording!
Thank you!                            For a traffic signal --
slam me
into the ground and
everything!
                                                Everything!
I hope
y'all
feel good

And No
you didn't.
                                                 You didn't see
everything
leading
up
to
it . . .

You
don't
have
to.