The Chaos Section Poetry Project
-
Maverick
Adam G. House The emperor has no clothes,throwing rocks from his glass house,atop his ivory towers,watching each quiet church mouse. Oppressing the subjects with his greedy dictates—self-serving proclamations for power.Thieving sleight of hand from behind his holy veil:sanctimonious stench, sheep-skinned wolf, thorny fading flower. The royal lighthouse goes dim,but the patriarch says it’s getting brighter.The Continue reading
activism, Adam G House, American politics, anti-authoritarian, Authoritarianism, chapbook, civil liberties, contemporary poetry, digital chapbook, dissent, free speech, poems of protest, Poetry, political poetry, protest poetry, Record of Dissent, resistance, The Chaos Section Poetry Project, Trump, Veteran Poetry -
Everyone Loses in this Monopoly Game
Merril D. Smith The first square is empty, walkon the beach, envision a city,build it, they will come, ferry to railroad, Philadelphia day-trippers,vacationers, escapers, walk the Boardwalk,it’s the place to be seen— women in diamonds and furs—turn a corner, jumpa square, find the bootleggers and bookies,make a deal,over there, a new hotel. On another square, Continue reading
-
Vanishing Into…
Kate Bremer Luminous darkness between rooster callsLooking into pupil-less goateyes, connecting with her nose, the quiver,the crevice, the device, crevasse, the divine,Divide. Birdsong. The pottery next door–Cracked and kilned and built. StopAnd hear the aftermath of death–Crater of belonging–clotheslines full,Toys hidden, casinos buzzing. Far awayDonkey speaks, not one of ours.Forest Service mules have been fired;Some Continue reading
-
Hope
Rachel Armes-McLaughlin Days like todayit feels like all’s about to end. The earthquakes with thousands lost.The floods, never seen before.The fires consume forest and home. Democracy gone. Then nights like tonight, there’s hope restored: Cory Booker on the senate floor,making history. A record broke.Wisconsin, fighting back against purchased votes. Blue Violets at the park,and news Continue reading
-
My Body, Your Choice
Skylar Clark Written November 8, 2024 at 1:00am—an hour after the election results. I always dreamed of having children. Two boys. Two girls.That dream, that vision, it’s been with me as long as I can remember.A life of love & chaos, laughter echoing through the halls of a big house on open land. Dogs running wild, playing with the kids.Their Continue reading
-
brick by brick
Melissa Lemay the school was builtwe sat in classroomseach day, rote memorizationof facts and figuresbut never learning about interest ratesor mortgages,real-world, real-life things we would use(not) taught to thinkin dewey decimal systematicallyingrained with fractureand parliament defined by etiquette and social order i took out my retainerand placed it onmy lunch tray, and threw it in the Continue reading
-
Bruised Orange
Patrick Dunn Imagine waking every day in opulenceSeeing only ungilded spaces in need of gaudy excessA photonegative emptinessToo cracked to developNot even as interesting as the old canister of filmMother left behind in the refrigeratorBack when child-mind wanted for cheap candyAnd connection What else went undeveloped? Imagine staring,Fixing something of thinning hairIn an ugly priceless Continue reading
-
Irish Hermitage Dream
Eileen ‘ike’ West An invisible menace threatens.I might blame the economy,I could say it’s people’s indifference,But it’s not.It is fear of the unknown, for sure.An unlikely unknown;As if lately, we’re overshadowed by ghosts,Phantoms from some dank corner of the collective mind. Where once the group psyche held a semblance ofPeace and grace,Darkness chokes out the Continue reading
-
Solitary
Rick Doyle I am a manI am a man reading a story in a newspaperabout another man who languishesin solitary confinement whose age is thatof my own son. Rick Doyle, poet and playwright, practices law in Downeast Maine. His poetry has been published in numerous journals, including Kaleidotrope and The Cafe Review, and won a Continue reading
-
The Mess of Thrown Off Clothes
Strider Marcus Jones i listento your love beads glistenin the flotsamof my room- we make themfrom samurai sword foldsat forge and loomin the mess of thrown off clothes. so many smoke me kissesat portal doors,and mithril wisheson primitive floors- take us back againthrough heath and fento imitatelost landscape- cycleand circlesky and stoneoutside and home- in love in lesswith your heavenliness,and Continue reading
The Chaos Section Poetry Project 