by Buff Whitman-Bradley
It is not
Upside down
We wish
To turn
The world
But right-side
Up
Buff Whitman-Bradley's poetry has appeared in many print and online journals. With his wife Cynthia he is co-producer/director of the award-winning documentary film, Outside In, and co-editor of the forthcoming book About Face: GI Resisters Turn Against War (PM Press, 2011). He is also co-producer/director of the documentary Por Que Venimos.
_____________________________________________________
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Monday, January 30, 2012
SONNET FROM THE AMERICAN
by Judith Morehouse
Wikipedia, how did I miss thee? Let me count the ways.
I missed thee to the depth and breadth and height
That false information can reach, when the answer was out of sight
And I tripped during the researching race.
I missed thee to the level of everyday’s
Most urgent need, when the fist of knowledge was tight.
I missed thee freely: I have no money;
I missed thee purely, knowledge from error.
I missed thee with a passion, for thy uncensored wealth.
I missed thee with a mind that I seemed to lose
With my lost internet,--- I missed thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! --- and, if SOPA should pass,
I shall but miss thee more after death.
Editor's Note: This poem was written in a responsive style. Lines were alternately written by Judith Morehouse and Sarah Graf. The complete poem was edited by Judith Morehouse who holds all rights to the poem.
Judith Morehouse is a performer and poet. She is currently preparing the role of Inez in Verdi's opera Il Trovatore and the role of Yente in Fiddler on the Roof. In her sparse, spare time, she keeps up with politics and reads.
_____________________________________________________
Wikipedia, how did I miss thee? Let me count the ways.
I missed thee to the depth and breadth and height
That false information can reach, when the answer was out of sight
And I tripped during the researching race.
I missed thee to the level of everyday’s
Most urgent need, when the fist of knowledge was tight.
I missed thee freely: I have no money;
I missed thee purely, knowledge from error.
I missed thee with a passion, for thy uncensored wealth.
I missed thee with a mind that I seemed to lose
With my lost internet,--- I missed thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! --- and, if SOPA should pass,
I shall but miss thee more after death.
Editor's Note: This poem was written in a responsive style. Lines were alternately written by Judith Morehouse and Sarah Graf. The complete poem was edited by Judith Morehouse who holds all rights to the poem.
Judith Morehouse is a performer and poet. She is currently preparing the role of Inez in Verdi's opera Il Trovatore and the role of Yente in Fiddler on the Roof. In her sparse, spare time, she keeps up with politics and reads.
_____________________________________________________
Friday, January 27, 2012
TRANSPARENCY
by David S. Pointer
Transparency
interferes with
the absence
of insightful dialogue
transmitted to people
interferes with
the preference
for high level privacy
during economic piracy
interferes with
the low pay repositories
the free people usability continuum
the lifecycle curiosity extraction
interferes with
the data purge
of financial, medical
and chemical information
interferes with
the myth, beauty, trivia
poetry professors pretending
they are above the fray
interferes with
the myth of the great man
the domestic assassination
the international assassination
interferes with
the diversionary entertainment
the familial and world peace
the quiet green horizons to come
David S. Pointer lives and writes from Murfreesboro, TN. He has recent acceptances at Rattle, Static Movement, and The Spirit of Poe anthology at Literary Landmark Press. All proceeds from the Poe anthology will go to benefit the Edgar Allan Poe Museum in Baltimore, MD that lost $80,000 in government funding.
_____________________________________________________
Transparency
interferes with
the absence
of insightful dialogue
transmitted to people
interferes with
the preference
for high level privacy
during economic piracy
interferes with
the low pay repositories
the free people usability continuum
the lifecycle curiosity extraction
interferes with
the data purge
of financial, medical
and chemical information
interferes with
the myth, beauty, trivia
poetry professors pretending
they are above the fray
interferes with
the myth of the great man
the domestic assassination
the international assassination
interferes with
the diversionary entertainment
the familial and world peace
the quiet green horizons to come
David S. Pointer lives and writes from Murfreesboro, TN. He has recent acceptances at Rattle, Static Movement, and The Spirit of Poe anthology at Literary Landmark Press. All proceeds from the Poe anthology will go to benefit the Edgar Allan Poe Museum in Baltimore, MD that lost $80,000 in government funding.
_____________________________________________________
Thursday, January 26, 2012
BBC REPORT FROM [INSERT COUNTRY NAME HERE]
by Richard Storm
And now, daytime traffic is allowed again.
The smell of burning in the air.
So many families have lost loved ones.
This was something else.
A man was standing in front of his home. “Your children are okay then?” He refused to give his name.
The people here, however resilient, will need time to recover from this.
Richard Storm moved from his native Oregon to Manhattan in 1978 to pursue an acting career. A charter member of brevitas, an email poetry collective, he believes poetry need not be obscure to be poetic.
_____________________________________________________
And now, daytime traffic is allowed again.
The smell of burning in the air.
So many families have lost loved ones.
This was something else.
A man was standing in front of his home. “Your children are okay then?” He refused to give his name.
The people here, however resilient, will need time to recover from this.
Richard Storm moved from his native Oregon to Manhattan in 1978 to pursue an acting career. A charter member of brevitas, an email poetry collective, he believes poetry need not be obscure to be poetic.
_____________________________________________________
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
ATTRACTED TO DISTRACTION
by Kim Doyle
The big questions are, admittedly,
hard to face. It’s easier to twitter, to iPad,
or wonder if one has enough Facebook friends.
What was written on your “wall” today?
Technology lends itself to calculated
thinking on the right side of the brain -
which lends itself to "final solutions."
Social networking is a shadow of the real thing.
The emphasis on caring in its biggest sense
is lost - caring for those who reveal the world
in all its multiple, mind piercing satisfactions -
caring for the essential business of being-ness.
How should I live the engaged life? It is a planet
filled with war and blood and ill-starred sacrifice.
The big questions have no traction.
In-authenticity is rife - the ending of a life
causes no ripples, quietness has no magnetism.
Loving the earth as oneself is just another
ecological faction.
Kim Doyle writes Op/Ed poems for The Brunswick Citizen in Brunswick, Maryland.
_____________________________________________________
The big questions are, admittedly,
hard to face. It’s easier to twitter, to iPad,
or wonder if one has enough Facebook friends.
What was written on your “wall” today?
Technology lends itself to calculated
thinking on the right side of the brain -
which lends itself to "final solutions."
Social networking is a shadow of the real thing.
The emphasis on caring in its biggest sense
is lost - caring for those who reveal the world
in all its multiple, mind piercing satisfactions -
caring for the essential business of being-ness.
How should I live the engaged life? It is a planet
filled with war and blood and ill-starred sacrifice.
The big questions have no traction.
In-authenticity is rife - the ending of a life
causes no ripples, quietness has no magnetism.
Loving the earth as oneself is just another
ecological faction.
Kim Doyle writes Op/Ed poems for The Brunswick Citizen in Brunswick, Maryland.
_____________________________________________________
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
OCCUPY THIS
by Martin Willitts Jr
After 110 days of peaceful demonstration, Occupy Syracuse was forced out of “Perseverance Park.”
110 days to break us down,
dismantle us, like words
are deconstructed or misused
or misheard, bent
by politicians by their belief
in co-opting or shouting against us
how wasteful and destructive we are,
when all we wanted
was a chance to say something,
like kindling fire,
to make people restless
at the possibility we will disturb their dream
of what we should be and are not,
a consumer of lies, like they are, tents
folded into origami memories,
protest signs sighing,
and the things we stand for
are portrayed as destructive,
even though peaceful and supposedly our rights,
stampeded by the right,
so what we are is 110 words of loss,
what is the length of an eviction notice,
how long did it take you to notice me,
where are 110 justifications
for the wrong things we see,
the 110 things you think we are doing wrong,
taking a 110 minutes to sign
a proclamation declaring us illegal,
antlers growing and steam in your sentences
to sentence us,
110 gavels by the judge,
110 steps pacing a cell door,
110 watt light bulb flicking out on liberty’s lamp,
110 minutes for me to make one phone call
and my time was up and I am crap out of luck,
110 stars visible in the night
or is that 110 snowflakes or is it 110 degrees,
or does it matter when my freedom is withheld,
kept in check and balances,
the scales of justice tilting like a smirk,
as I count backwards from 110 to keep busy
and focus, as you wonder if I used 110 words.
Martin Willitts Jr was nominated for two Best of The Net awards and his 5th Pushcart award. He has had nine poetry chapbooks accepted in 2011 including True Simplicity (Poets Wear Prada Press, 2011), My Heart Is Seven Wild Swans Lifting (Slow Trains, 2011), Why Women Are A Ribbon Around A Bomb (Last Automat, 2011), Art Is Always an Impression of What an Artist Sees (Muse Café, 2011), Protest, Petition, Write, Speak: Matilda Joslyn Gage Poems (Matilda Joslyn Gage Foundation, 2011), How To Find Peace (Kattywumpus Press, 2011), Playing The Pauses In The Absence Of Stars (Main Street Rag, 2012), No Special Favors (Green Fuse Press, 2012), and Secrets No One Wants To Talk About (Dos Madres Press, 2011).
_____________________________________________________
After 110 days of peaceful demonstration, Occupy Syracuse was forced out of “Perseverance Park.”
110 days to break us down,
dismantle us, like words
are deconstructed or misused
or misheard, bent
by politicians by their belief
in co-opting or shouting against us
how wasteful and destructive we are,
when all we wanted
was a chance to say something,
like kindling fire,
to make people restless
at the possibility we will disturb their dream
of what we should be and are not,
a consumer of lies, like they are, tents
folded into origami memories,
protest signs sighing,
and the things we stand for
are portrayed as destructive,
even though peaceful and supposedly our rights,
stampeded by the right,
so what we are is 110 words of loss,
what is the length of an eviction notice,
how long did it take you to notice me,
where are 110 justifications
for the wrong things we see,
the 110 things you think we are doing wrong,
taking a 110 minutes to sign
a proclamation declaring us illegal,
antlers growing and steam in your sentences
to sentence us,
110 gavels by the judge,
110 steps pacing a cell door,
110 watt light bulb flicking out on liberty’s lamp,
110 minutes for me to make one phone call
and my time was up and I am crap out of luck,
110 stars visible in the night
or is that 110 snowflakes or is it 110 degrees,
or does it matter when my freedom is withheld,
kept in check and balances,
the scales of justice tilting like a smirk,
as I count backwards from 110 to keep busy
and focus, as you wonder if I used 110 words.
Martin Willitts Jr was nominated for two Best of The Net awards and his 5th Pushcart award. He has had nine poetry chapbooks accepted in 2011 including True Simplicity (Poets Wear Prada Press, 2011), My Heart Is Seven Wild Swans Lifting (Slow Trains, 2011), Why Women Are A Ribbon Around A Bomb (Last Automat, 2011), Art Is Always an Impression of What an Artist Sees (Muse Café, 2011), Protest, Petition, Write, Speak: Matilda Joslyn Gage Poems (Matilda Joslyn Gage Foundation, 2011), How To Find Peace (Kattywumpus Press, 2011), Playing The Pauses In The Absence Of Stars (Main Street Rag, 2012), No Special Favors (Green Fuse Press, 2012), and Secrets No One Wants To Talk About (Dos Madres Press, 2011).
_____________________________________________________
Monday, January 23, 2012
3, 4 0R 5-TOED DRAGON
Poem by Charles Frederickson; Graphic by Saknarin Chinayote
Year of the Dragon roars
In breathing glows-in-the-dark spitfire flames
Consumed by pulsating solar energy
Before being swallowed into oblivion
Everything old becomes new again
Recycled wishes given second chance
Shining example experiencing daily rebirth
Propitious omen foreboding divine spirit
Yesterday’s realities become tomorrow’s fantasies
Past Present Future trading places
Time-warp distorting what you see
Isn’t actually probably never was
Dreams within dreams awakening overnight
Consciousness clutching security blanket comforter
Stuffed downy pillows passionate moments
Consoling blissful suffering eternal love
Legendary mythical creature that laid
No eggs had no young
Can heal itself if injured
Salty teardrops healing mortal wounds
5-toed fifth Chinese Zodiac Sign
4-toed Korean soaring 3-toed Japanese
Golden phoenix claws clutching pearl
Auspicious symbol signifying celestial happiness
Dr. Charles Frederickson and Mr. Saknarin Chinayote proudly present 28 YouTube mini-movies @ YouTube – CharlesThai1 .
___________________________________________
Sunday, January 22, 2012
APOCALYPTICS
by David Radavich
We want
the world to burn
and everything
we dislike
destroyed in a burst
or a deluge
so there’s no
mistake
we are the good
guys, God’s favorites,
who will finally
own all
and be all
we dreamed
since
our partial
birth.
David Radavich's new book of poems Middle-East Mezze (Plain View Press, 2011) focuses on Iraq, Palestine, and Egypt. Previous poetry publications include Canonicals: Love's Hours (Finishing Line, 2009), America Bound: An Epic for Our Time (Plain View Press, 2007), Slain Species (Court Poetry Press, London), By the Way (Buttonwood Press, 1998), and Greatest Hits (Pudding House Press, 2000). His plays have been performed across the U.S. and abroad, including five Off-Off-Broadway productions. He also enjoys writing essays on poetry, drama, and contemporary issues.
___________________________________________
We want
the world to burn
and everything
we dislike
destroyed in a burst
or a deluge
so there’s no
mistake
we are the good
guys, God’s favorites,
who will finally
own all
and be all
we dreamed
since
our partial
birth.
David Radavich's new book of poems Middle-East Mezze (Plain View Press, 2011) focuses on Iraq, Palestine, and Egypt. Previous poetry publications include Canonicals: Love's Hours (Finishing Line, 2009), America Bound: An Epic for Our Time (Plain View Press, 2007), Slain Species (Court Poetry Press, London), By the Way (Buttonwood Press, 1998), and Greatest Hits (Pudding House Press, 2000). His plays have been performed across the U.S. and abroad, including five Off-Off-Broadway productions. He also enjoys writing essays on poetry, drama, and contemporary issues.
___________________________________________
Saturday, January 21, 2012
PICKING PRESIDENTS
by Kathleen Flenniken
Perhaps Americans are Iowans in essence.
Granite Staters. South Carolinians. Our system teaches us
the states in the west
don’t need or have a say—speaking as a westerner—
so we don’t field candidates, in essence,
we don’t have presidents from the great northwest. Would any of us
want the presidency anyway? Kissing babies, wars, and crisis. None of us
meet these egregious sweater-vested villains in person. We moved out west
for independence and (still remember) privacy. These hand-picked states in essence
represent us. It’s essentially democracy by proxy. The west just watches on TV.
Kathleen Flenniken’s new collection, Plume, from University of Washington Press, is a very personal history of the Hanford Nuclear Site. Her poems appeared in recent issues of Poetry Northwest, Southern Poetry Review, and the 2012 Pushcart Prize anthology.
_____________________________________________________
Perhaps Americans are Iowans in essence.
Granite Staters. South Carolinians. Our system teaches us
the states in the west
don’t need or have a say—speaking as a westerner—
so we don’t field candidates, in essence,
we don’t have presidents from the great northwest. Would any of us
want the presidency anyway? Kissing babies, wars, and crisis. None of us
meet these egregious sweater-vested villains in person. We moved out west
for independence and (still remember) privacy. These hand-picked states in essence
represent us. It’s essentially democracy by proxy. The west just watches on TV.
Kathleen Flenniken’s new collection, Plume, from University of Washington Press, is a very personal history of the Hanford Nuclear Site. Her poems appeared in recent issues of Poetry Northwest, Southern Poetry Review, and the 2012 Pushcart Prize anthology.
_____________________________________________________
Friday, January 20, 2012
FOR HAMZA ALI AL-KHATEEB
by Peleg Held
From my father's roof I rise, circling
the loss I cannot gather with these permeable wings
The bridge from pigeon to dove,
the broken body of a child.
From obedience to unruly honor,
the broken body of a child.
From this day forward the words
I carry will be mine alone,
home or elsewhere.
Words lifted into fury,
legs folded and burned but
still unbanded.
Peleg Held is a writer and a carpenter living with his partner and their brigand children in the southeast United States. He is a former member of Voices in the Wilderness, a campaign to lift the economic sanctions on Iraq and other failed attempts at decency.
_____________________________________________________
 | ||||
| Many tributes to Hamza al-Khateeb, such as this one drawn by a child, were posted to a Facebook group to commemorate his life and death. Source: Aljazeera. |
He kept homing pigeons.
From my father's roof I rise, circling
the loss I cannot gather with these permeable wings
The bridge from pigeon to dove,
the broken body of a child.
From obedience to unruly honor,
the broken body of a child.
From this day forward the words
I carry will be mine alone,
home or elsewhere.
Words lifted into fury,
legs folded and burned but
still unbanded.
Peleg Held is a writer and a carpenter living with his partner and their brigand children in the southeast United States. He is a former member of Voices in the Wilderness, a campaign to lift the economic sanctions on Iraq and other failed attempts at decency.
_____________________________________________________
Thursday, January 19, 2012
LEGISLATION AS EUPHEMISM
by Jon Wesick
Host of the Gelato Poetry Series, instigator of the San Diego Poetry Un-Slam, and an editor of the San Diego Poetry Annual, Jon Wesick has published over two hundred poems in journals such as the The New Verse News, New Orphic Review, Pearl, Pudding, and Slipstream. He has also published forty short stories. Jon has a Ph.D. in physics and is a longtime student of Buddhism and the martial arts. One of his poems won second place in the 2007 African American Writers and Artists contest.
_____________________________________________________
NVN Editor’s Note: This video accompanying Jon Wesick's prose poem was created by David Holmes and other journalism students at Jay Rosen's NYU's Studio 20 as part of their collaboration with ProPublica.org to build better explanations of progressive issues.
A few years ago Congress fracked over the American public by exempting hydraulic fracking from the Safe Drinking Water Act. Typical for corrupt politicians to sell us out to greedy corporations that don’t give a frack whether we get cancer from drinking poisoned water as long as there’s a quick buck to be made. I have one thing to say to the motherfrackers who voted for this obscenity. Take a flying frack at a rolling donut.
_____________________________________________________
Tuesday, January 17, 2012
PRIMARY COLORS
by John Palen
when a death squad came
people banged on pots and pans
jammed streetcorners
when a fighter pilot
strafed a schoolgirl by mistake
she jumped in a ditch
when village women
turned out, soldiers let them pass
shot them in the back
red yellow blue green
cotton over limbs and torsos
so easily riddled
tell me, Yogi,
what game is it that ain’t over
even when we win?
This is John Palen's third appearance in The New Verse News. His first collection of flash fiction, Small Economies, is forthcoming from Mayapple Press. His reviews of literary magazines appear in New Pages. A Central Illinois resident, Palen blogs about poetry and fiction at www.johnpalensblog.blogspot.com.
_____________________________________________________
when a death squad came
people banged on pots and pans
jammed streetcorners
when a fighter pilot
strafed a schoolgirl by mistake
she jumped in a ditch
when village women
turned out, soldiers let them pass
shot them in the back
red yellow blue green
cotton over limbs and torsos
so easily riddled
tell me, Yogi,
what game is it that ain’t over
even when we win?
This is John Palen's third appearance in The New Verse News. His first collection of flash fiction, Small Economies, is forthcoming from Mayapple Press. His reviews of literary magazines appear in New Pages. A Central Illinois resident, Palen blogs about poetry and fiction at www.johnpalensblog.blogspot.com.
_____________________________________________________
Monday, January 16, 2012
BACK TO THE FUTURE
by Helen Padway
SUMTER, S.C. — The conservative bedrock issues of abortion, gay marriage and faith that have long shaped Republican campaigns in the South moved toward the forefront of the presidential contest here Saturday as candidates scrambled for the support of evangelical voters. --By Philip Rucker, Washington Post, January 15, 2012
At the narrow end of the funnel
of her mind - stained red brick
building, alley entrance - steep steps,
foot sounds muted on torn rubber treads.
Finger marked hall walls, printed
black numbers on frosted glass,
the edges ready to flake, door hinge
squeaking like a rabbit caught in the claws
of a horned owl. A brass doorknob
layered in the grunge
of sweaty palms. An empty waiting room.
Three chairs,
cracked yellow plastic covers,
curled copy of Modern Screen.
Gray asbestos tile floor.
From the open inner door
a paunchy figure
with no face, only the white plump
hand beckoning. Inside the room a narrow black
leather table and a steaming Nesco Roaster
filled with boiling water
and hot sharp steel. Do you have the money?
Handoff of rolled bills fastened
by red yarn. He counts, has clean fingernails.
You can keep your bra and shirt on.
Helen Padway lives, writes and contemplates life in Wisconsin. She is happy to see her poems published in journals throughout the US. She is concerned about the political scene but is able to smile as she interacts with her family and other poets.
_____________________________________________________
SUMTER, S.C. — The conservative bedrock issues of abortion, gay marriage and faith that have long shaped Republican campaigns in the South moved toward the forefront of the presidential contest here Saturday as candidates scrambled for the support of evangelical voters. --By Philip Rucker, Washington Post, January 15, 2012
At the narrow end of the funnel
of her mind - stained red brick
building, alley entrance - steep steps,
foot sounds muted on torn rubber treads.
Finger marked hall walls, printed
black numbers on frosted glass,
the edges ready to flake, door hinge
squeaking like a rabbit caught in the claws
of a horned owl. A brass doorknob
layered in the grunge
of sweaty palms. An empty waiting room.
Three chairs,
cracked yellow plastic covers,
curled copy of Modern Screen.
Gray asbestos tile floor.
From the open inner door
a paunchy figure
with no face, only the white plump
hand beckoning. Inside the room a narrow black
leather table and a steaming Nesco Roaster
filled with boiling water
and hot sharp steel. Do you have the money?
Handoff of rolled bills fastened
by red yarn. He counts, has clean fingernails.
You can keep your bra and shirt on.
Helen Padway lives, writes and contemplates life in Wisconsin. She is happy to see her poems published in journals throughout the US. She is concerned about the political scene but is able to smile as she interacts with her family and other poets.
_____________________________________________________
Sunday, January 15, 2012
ON POST COLONIALISM
by E. F. Schraeder
I read the term first
in a smart book
I borrowed from the library
back in grad school and
I wondered
When did they leave?
E.F. Schraeder's creative work has appeared or is forthcoming in the anthologies Kicked Out, Whitechapel 13, Father Grim's Storybook, and others. Schraeder’s poetry has appeared in Hiram Poetry Review, Bluepepper, On the Issues, Blue Collar Review, Haz Mat Review, New Verse News, and other journals. She is working on a new manuscript of poems and waiting for more snow.
_____________________________________________________
I read the term first
in a smart book
I borrowed from the library
back in grad school and
I wondered
When did they leave?
E.F. Schraeder's creative work has appeared or is forthcoming in the anthologies Kicked Out, Whitechapel 13, Father Grim's Storybook, and others. Schraeder’s poetry has appeared in Hiram Poetry Review, Bluepepper, On the Issues, Blue Collar Review, Haz Mat Review, New Verse News, and other journals. She is working on a new manuscript of poems and waiting for more snow.
_____________________________________________________
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