Flunking the Turing Test. A Poem by Becca Menon

                           Come on, body, what’s with the chronic wincing
                           We’ve heard these gripes before.  What good do they do?
                           Stop whining!  And anyhow, who’s in there?  Are you
                           Even real, like really the Real Me, the Pain Me – or Not-Me?
                           Belly, “You’re hungry!” and “Ow!” just aren’t convincing.
                           Ears?  Eyes?  Hacked or hackneyed…  I? think? I’m a Bot-me.

 becca-menon-photo

 

Becca Menon is an American writer whose largely narrative poetic works, based in myth, fairy tale, folklore and Scripture have been hailed internationally in countries such as Iran, India, Iraq, Canada and the United Kingdom as well as the United States.  Some shorter works, essays and translations appear in print and online in publications that include Parnassus, Mezzo Cammin, Kritya, Antiphon and others.  She is associate editor of Phoenix Rising¸ a multilingual sonnet anthology.     www.BeccaBooks.com.




 
 
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Key of Mist. Guadalupe Grande.Translated.Amparo Arróspide.Robin Ouzman Hislop
 
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The Saguaro Cactus. A Poem by Mary Bone

 

The Saguaro with its
Prickly fingers
Lifted me up
From the desert floor
With a glare.
 
My bones devoid of moisture,
Continue to glisten
In the brightness of the sun.

 
mary-bone
 
Bio. I have been writing poetry since the age of twelve. Some of my poems can be seen online at http://www.outlawpoetry.com/category/mary-bone/ and The Poetry Project. I have had two books of poetry published. One of my short stories is currently posted online at Spillwords. Oklahoma Today Magazine accepted my poem, ”Other Warriors,” for their July/August issue.
 
 
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5 Byron Slang Poems by Chistopher Barnes

Lord Byron Makes A Sexual Health Clinic Appointment
Oh that thou                   muntered a laundered dossbag
      The fool                     and his bust juice gratefully unplug
The solitude                   of recovering is a slider’s brother
   Has lost its                scrangy thrills
There may be others     drooly on Monte Blanco
   I am not                     a lamp-genie, more-time!
I feel an ebb                    the hoolies fade
And the tide vibes         onto its raggedy hem
 
Glossary of slang: Muntered – Minging, Bust Juice – Semen, Slider – Shirker, Drooly – Attractive, 
More-Time! – Laters, Hoolie – Wild Party, Scrangy – Dirty.

 
Lord Byron Leaves DNA On A Cup
Perhaps – the workings          of astrals and identities smudge
   Within me,                           the pissant double helix uncoils
Brought on                               by an inconsiderable flob
   Perhaps a harder               look would evidence bones
For all                                       ridgy-didge night stars we infest
And with light                          the pinpoint takes its centre, these
Have taught me                       skin-pops too are evolving 
The chief companion              is human dregs

 

Glossary of slang: Pissant – Trifling, Flob – To Spit, Ridgy-Didge – Honest.


 
Lord Byron Goes For An Ultrasound
Kingdoms and empires                      jitter in cell grits
  I have outlived                                  rang-a-tang infirmities  
And when I                                           coffee-spit incubated bile
  Of my own years                              as a yo-boy all edged
Like a wild                                            flapdoodle in derro-ville
  Something –                                     gutsachey pops
A spirit of                                              twannie indulgence
Even for                                                me it’s a zofting flinch
 
Glossary of slang: Rang-A-Tang – Belligerent, Yo-Boy – Hooligan, Edged – Nervous,
Flapdoodle – Fuss, Derro-Ville – Derelict, Twannie – Stupid, Zofting – Pleasing.
Lord Byron Bungee Jumps For Charity
For thee                                               this wooshious stunt
   I know myself                                 peaky, devil-may-care
We were and are                                 mardies, once only the S.A.S.
   Beings                                            stoked for function
It is the same                                       psych out any aviation blonde entertains
   From life’s                                       wilding nerves
We are entwined                                  star-spas, chavvie-close
The tie which bound                            rakes up wamba for the penniless
 
Glossary of slang: Wooshious – Excellent, Peaky – Euphoric, Mardies –Softies,
Psych Out – Unnerve, Aviation Blonde – Peroxided, Wilding – Running Amok, 
Star-Spas – Mates, Chavvie – Underclass, Wamba – Money.

 
Lord Byron Is Tracked By GPS
But saving this                           on underware’s index
   You like vanilla                     meridians, barista forth
Such as in Monmouth-Street    where window-lickers dawdle
   Would rig flave                     clientele to exquisite buffage
And even                                     skells import loveliness
Where prettier                             droids wheeze rettes
For, bating Covent Garden        all le chat
No place                                      is ever fugly in unsparkling light

 

Glossary of slang: Underware – Personal Computer Files, Vanilla – Innocuous,
Window-Licker – Slow Wit, Flave – Stylish, Buffage – Attractive, Skells – The Homeless, 
Droids – The Unimaginative, Le Chat – Banter, Rettes – Cigarettes,Fugly – Fuck Ugly
 
 
 

christopher barnes photo 3

Some bio details…
In 1998 I won a Northern Arts writers award. In July 200 I read at Waterstones bookshop to promote the anthology ‘Titles Are Bitches’. Christmas 2001 I debuted at Newcastle’s famous Morden Tower doing a reading of my poems. Each year I read for Proudwords lesbian and gay writing festival and I partook in workshops. 2005 saw the publication of my collection LOVEBITES published by Chanticleer Press, 6/1 Jamaica Mews, Edinburgh.

On Saturday 16Th August 2003 I read at the Edinburgh Festival as a Per Verse poet at LGBT Centre, Broughton St.

I also have a BBC web-page www.bbc.co.uk/tyne/gay.2004/05/section_28.shtml and http://www.bbc.co.uk/tyne/videonation/stories/gay_history.shtml (if first site does not work click on SECTION 28 on second site.

Christmas 2001 The Northern Cultural Skills Partnership sponsored me to be mentored by Andy Croft in conjunction with New Writing North. I made a radio programme for Web FM community radio about my writing group. October-November 2005, I entered a poem/visual image into the art exhibition The Art Cafe Project, his piece Post-Mark was shown in Betty’s Newcastle. This event was sponsored by Pride On The Tyne. I made a digital film with artists Kate Sweeney and Julie Ballands at a film making workshop called Out Of The Picture which was shown at the festival party for Proudwords, it contains my poem The Old Heave-Ho. I worked on a collaborative art and literature project called How Gay Are Your Genes, facilitated by Lisa Mathews (poet) which exhibited at The Hatton Gallery, Newcastle University, including a film piece by the artist Predrag Pajdic in which I read my poem On Brenkley St. The event was funded by The Policy, Ethics and Life Sciences Research Institute, Bio-science Centre at Newcastle’s Centre for Life. I was involved in the Five Arts Cities poetry postcard event which exhibited at The Seven Stories children’s literature building. In May I had 2006 a solo art/poetry exhibition at The People’s Theatre

The South Bank Centre in London recorded my poem “The Holiday I Never Had”; I can be heard reading it on www.poetrymagazines.org.uk/magazine/record.asp?id=18456

REVIEWS: I have written poetry reviews for Poetry Scotland and Jacket Magazine and in August 2007 I made a film called ‘A Blank Screen, 60 seconds, 1 shot’ for Queerbeats Festival at The Star & Shadow Cinema Newcastle, reviewing a poem…see www.myspace.com/queerbeatsfestival On September 4 2010, I read at the Callander Poetry Weekend hosted by Poetry Scotland. I have also written Art Criticism for Peel and Combustus Magazines. I was involved in The Creative Engagement In Research Programme Research Constellation exhibitions of writing and photography which showed in London (march 13 2012) and Edinburgh (July 4 2013) see http://www.researchconstellation.co.uk/ . I co-edit the poetry magazine
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All the Babble of the Souk. Antonio Martínez Arboleda ~ Reinventing

all-the-bable-of-the-souk-image-with-tony-martin-woods
 
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Before I provide my views about All the Babble of the Souk (Aquillrelle, 2015), I must declare my admiration for its author, Robin Ouzman Hislop. He is a person of great intellect, determination and generosity, a combination of traits that is unfortunately not so common in our world. In his work as an editor Robin promotes literary quality and innovation whilst helping hundreds of artists to feel and become part of a global community of equals which expands through Poetry Life and Times. He has demonstrated his commitment to grassroots, popular and digital poetry by supporting Transforming with Poetry and Poesía Indignada, two of the platforms I run. Knowing him personally makes this review a pleasant experience. I think the reader is entitled to be aware of the subjectivity of my views and I wish people were more open about declaring all the reasons informing their personal preferences when they write about other’s work. Our “professional” world is polluted by a false duty of objectivity which often takes away the most valuable information one can provide about the work of someone else: the human qualities of the author.
 
In his work All the Babble of the Souk, Robin takes us through a fascinating journey into the painful complexities, and the beauty, of the universe, with a very honest, informed and uncompromising cosmovision. Robin’s poems are enlivened with very opportune geographical, physical, scientific and human ingredients, including what seems to be autobiographical references. These are also the stepping stones for Robin’s insightfully critique of our constructed social reality and our species. But make no mistakes: the reader will not find a political programme in the poetry of Hislop. Instead, he offers an impressionistic yet refined understanding of what is wrong, and what is right, with humanity: we humans are an indistinguishable and intertwined part of the matter that surrounds us. We are as immense as the galaxies we dream with, as little as the atoms that sustain us and as problematic as the viruses who kill us. We struggle in our lives with the symmetries and asymmetries that underpin nature and the universe.
 
Robin’s work is an invitation to discover the necessity and expressive value of sometimes relatively uncommon words that reveal the richness of the world he encounters. Words for him are the commotion of the intellect, a statement of fiery consciousness where signifier and signified can often melt. But the reader should not be afraid of this. The poems are very enjoyable and thought-provoking, even if one feels inclined to consult the dictionary now and then. The use of occasional rhymes and repetitions or the combination of monosyllables in some poems is very effective. With no exception along the whole book, the pace of Robin’s prosody is light and elegant like the walk of a playful Arab horse.
 
Overall, a very recommended read. Thank you for your poetry, Robin!

 
 
 
tony republic
 
 
Tony Martin-Woods started to write poetry in 2012, at the age of 43, driven by his political indignation. That same year he also set in motion Poesía Indignada (Transforming with Poetry), an online publication of political poetry that he edits. Tony is a political and artistic activist who explores the digital component of our lives as a means to support critical human empowerment. He is also known in the UK for his work as an academic and educator under his non-literary name. He writes in English and Spanish and has published his first volume of poetry Los viajes de Diosa (The Travels of Goddess) 2016.
 
 
 
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The Thracian Rider Is Doomed to Moonlight. A Poem by RW Haynes

 

Artemis of slippery rocks, O power
Of mesquite, O night, O resonant night
Of owls and tricky rapids, in this hour
Guide my faithful warhorse aright
In this crossing of this magic stream,
Where the ghosts of ancient rattlesnakes
Arise a moment from their deathly dream
To view the crossing an intruder makes.
Thus splashing splashlessly, now I ride,
Saluting the river with my brazen spear,
Across through the shallows to the western side,
To Mexico. Moonglow is strong, but sunrise is near,
And here I will abide when darkness is gone
Awaiting the impulse which will impel me on.

 
Just one game plays out at no remove
From reality, and its rules both produce
And require defiance of traps that prove
What you are. You must somehow turn loose
Of love’s numerous and bogus avatars,
Of pride’s super-subtle, invidious claims,
And all false illusions, from Hell to the stars,
As the clock steals vigor, and all the other games
Clamor for attention. But I have arrived
And crossed this river, one dragon slain
In Bulgaria, the battles I survived
Having cleared my soul of useless pain.
And now, freed from compulsion of choice,
I listen for orders from an inward voice.
 
Last night I met a perished knight at arms
Wandering feebly down the murmuring stream,
And we spoke awhile of debilitating charms
That lurk malignantly in hope and dream.
Death had relieved him of all but regret,
He smiled, his eyes unseen in the ghostly shade,
But hoarsely whispered then that to forget
He’d instantly take agony in trade,
And he reached forth to me his bony hand,
And I pronounced forthwith the living curse,
And he was gone with that crushing command
That the dead must obey and none can reverse.
And the waterfall echoes its perpetual sighs
And I stand watch here silent at moon-rise.

 
 
On the Savannah River 2013
 
 
 
R. W. Haynes has taught literature at Texas A&M International University since 1992. His recent interests include the early British sonnet, and he is completing a second book on the Texas playwright and screenwriter Horton Foote (1916-2009). In his poetry, Haynes seeks to celebrate life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness without sounding any more dissonant notes than he has to. In fiction, he works toward grasping that part of the past which made its mark on his generation. He enjoys teaching drama, especially the Greeks, Ibsen, and Shakespeare, and he devoutly hopes for a stunning literary Renaissance in South Texas.

 
 
 
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~SCHIZOPHRENIC TENDENCIES~A Poem by James Dennis Casey 1V.

 
I know my flaws
Holding on to the darkness
As I step out of the light
 
I did everything I ever did
I own up to it too
Never hiding behind a phrase
 
“The devil made me do it”
Not in my vocabulary
 
Good
Evil
Never satisfied
Either way
I keep them both hungry
 
Sometimes I recognize myself
Others I don’t
The times in between
Are madness
 
Schizophrenic tendencies
Of a multi-faceted gem
 
I fuel myself with whiskey
Fight
Drink
Fuck
 
Yet my heart is full of empathy
Forgive
Forget
Love
 
Many different faces
Many different masks
 
Hobo lullabies
Rich man dreams
Commando stain pants
Fresh clean shirt

 

 
james-dennis-casey-iv-jpg
 
I fancy myself as a bard & wordsmith, madman, artist, free thinker, cat lover, hat lover, owl enthusiast, and crystal collector. My poems have been featured in print form on two separate occasions. My poem “A Philosophical Treasure Chest” was picked for the anthology ‘Where the Mind Dwells’ after wining a submission contest, and five of my poem submissions were accepted to be in ‘Tribute-Pirates Anthology’ by Writing Knights Press. Some of my poetry has also been in the pages of various online magazine publications. Poetry Blog: http:// jdcivskeletonsfrommycloset. blogspot.com/
Rev.James Dennis Casey IV. Ordained Dudeist Priest at Dudeism, the Church of the Latter-Day Dude
 
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Bed. A Poem by Martin Foroz

 

      It was not
      the same bed
      Your spirit,
      somewhere else
      But the flesh
      familiar

 
mf-pic
 
BIO
Mohammad Forouzani (Martin Foroz) is an Assistant Professor of English
Language and Literature. He is originally Iranian, and is now living and teaching
at university in Oman. His poems were recently published in Voice of Monarch
Butterflieies: Middle Eastern anthology by Ten Poets from Ganges to Nile
(2016-
Editor: S. Saeidnia), Tuck Magazine (August 2016), and Raven Cage Ezine (2016, 3rd issue).
http://martinforoz.wordpress.com
https://www.linkedin.com/in/mohammad-forouzani-5b330572

 
 
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WHAT THE METAL HOLDS TOO LONG IS CONSUMED BY FIRE #34#35#36. Poem by Darren C. Demaree

 
WHAT THE METAL HOLDS TOO LONG IS CONSUMED BY FIRE #34
 
The small, repeatable
actions
 
that go wrong one time
always snatch
 
your throat
& divide it up
 
into a tributary
of failure
 
that dumps fire
into more fire, spreads
 
until the harbor
becomes a deep hell.
 
 
WHAT THE METAL HOLDS TOO LONG IS CONSUMED BY FIRE #35
 
Throw the remaining eggs
at the ashes of the silo. Eat
 
what cooks there. Enjoy
the plenty that is nothing
 
left to burn. If the house
goes up too, your fingers
 
will substitute for the silver
that can never be saved.
 
WHAT THE METAL HOLDS TOO LONG IS CONSUMED BY FIRE #36
 
Wear the crisping.
Wear it into town.
Pick a bar, rural
superhero, the silo
smoking on your chest
is worth a month
of free Wild Turkey.

 
 
 
 
Darren C. Demaree
 
“Darren is a dangerous dreamer, concocting love poems to his home state, and pastorals to his true love. But there’s always something more beneath the surface: sex and violence, villainy, mutilation, uneasy redemption and troubled ecstasy. These poems are pins pressed deep in the disfigured heart of America. They work a dark magic on the reader — they’re unsettling in necessary ways.” Christopher Michel
 
Darren-C.-Demaree
 
My poems have appeared, or are scheduled to appear in numerous magazines/journals, including the South Dakota Review, Meridian, The Louisville Review, Diagram, and the Colorado Review.
 
I am the author of “As We Refer To Our Bodies” (2013, 8th House), “Temporary Champions” (2014, Main Street Rag), “The Pony Governor” (2015, After the Pause Press), and “Not For Art Nor Prayer” (2015, 8th House). I am the Managing Editor of the Best of the Net Anthology.
 
I am currently living and writing in Columbus, Ohio with my wife and children.

 
 
 
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