protest poetry
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Indigenous People’s Night
Chad Parenteau Auto shop stays opento grill burgers amongthe unfinished labor. Radio on Latin beatshope’s fast drums speedpassersby away quickly. All feel indigenoussomewhere. Anyonecould be a colonist who wants to settleboth feet on our backslike branding irons. Above, moon seeksasylum in clouds, fearsbeing discovered again. Chad Parenteau hosts Boston’s long-running Stone Soup Poetry series. His work Continue reading
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Tinder
Andrew Frewin Wilson “It needn’t be tinder, this juncture of the year”—Conor O’Callaghan, January Drought I – Hand-wringing… Tinseltown they called itThe Hollywood sign above itOn mountain and canyons coveredWith scrub like gasoline tinderRich palaces of dreams renderedTo which many young locusts aspiredBut Santa Anna winds have burnedThose houses to naught but ashChimneys only gravestones Continue reading
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Sexes
Aubrey Phoenix I didn’t like myselfWhen I was acceptable to others. My family would tell youThat I was most successfulWhen I worked for Sexes-A seemingly stable 9-6,Hardly above poverty payRelative to the tech-forwardNorcal SF Peninsula…But it came with an apartment,Health insurance, for the first time in my adult life,And a little bit of walking around Continue reading
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The Samaritan Machine
Strider Marcus Jones this field pondis only mydissolvedimagination-thought dropsof summer rainmaking fractal ripplesdrumbeat on skin.a portal sharedwith cawing crowsrevealswho scams and snoops and shootsin contract conversations.this Windsongof Virginia Creeper,ruling Bear and Wolfsbanerustling in black bambootrusts its Samaritan Machinetelling it who to redactin this imposeddystopianequilibriumof dumbed-down massesworshipping Carousel. Strider Marcus Jones is a poet, law graduate, and Continue reading
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Consequences
Benjamin Waldrum They’ll come for you next, you can count on that fact;They’ll keep coming so long as there’s more to subtract.They’ll trumpet their values — no faults, only gloss;They’ll arrive wrapped in the flag and carrying a cross. They’ll reduce human rights with the stroke of a pen;They’ll betray their own people, then betray Continue reading
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No Eulogy
Chad Parenteau Priest readscliff notes,from obit. Lived, worked,retired, died,had family. What elsegets buriedthis afternoon? Not a singlesecret passedover pew. Soon no onewill recallanyone here. Final giftof holyanonymity. Just onemore threadon bootstrap. The unsungof world’swinning team. Sweepingthemselvesunder rug. Pass Peterwithout evershowing pass. Behind gates,faceless divineforevermore. Chad Parenteau hosts Boston’s long-running Stone Soup Poetry series. His work has Continue reading
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Ubuntu
Andrew Frewin Wilson When our humanity faltersIn so many placesAnd what really mattersIs trounced in so many waysWhen dictators are not justA “Third” World afflictionWhich “First” encouraged, in moral derelictionAnd now is itself spotted like rustWith rampant would-be elite FascismWe can draw back from the abyssFor democracy is no mere -ismIf “humanity” no longer resonates, Continue reading
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You prefer
Rick Doyle horseradish to mustardturnip to maple syrup Dutchman’s breeches to hawkweeda ditch full of asters to a field of daisies head of tide to estuarytomorrow’s eclipse to last year’s comet a broken promise to a broken-backed threata heartfelt obscenity to a misleading songa bitter truth to a brass-belled anthem a feathered doubt to a Continue reading
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The Mad Hatter Hiding in Dark Matter
Strider Marcus Jones in our housei binned the radiofor playing Strauss- left the suited rodeoof casino Faustand shot the gentry shooting grouse. into the wild gardenwithout spun jargonwe went through rusting arch of rose dissentonto the precipice of peacewhere slush borders grip and grease like usurping tectonic platesshapeshifting smaller states.their innocents bombed Continue reading
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Ego Death
Aubrey Phoenix That’s what I mean, though-Everything has burned down.I’m rising from the ashes,Albeit traumatized and shaken,But I’ve never felt more alive.It feels like The UniverseHas stripped me down to my bare soul-Pulled me apart into pure essence,Leaving behind scattered nouns and adjectivesThat I’ve claimed in this life,Ultimately, it all means nothing. I mean, seriously;I Continue reading
The Chaos Section Poetry Project 