The Scum Gentry Poetry Hole

The Cursory Search

The Cursory Search

Poetry
Luis Cuauhtémoc Berriozábal
I had expensive clothes.
My cufflinks were worth more
than your yearly salary.
Meanwhile, roaches crawled
around his clothes kept in
a cheap garbage bag.
There were no cufflinks
there, no fancy dress shirt or
any type of long sleeve
shirt inside the bag.
I had a jacket there that ...
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One For The Demigod Atheist

One For The Demigod Atheist

Poetry
John Sweet
a river through the desert,
late December,
this dust-colored sky at sunset,
these silent houses down dead-end streets
.
church spires and the taste of road salt
.
accidental overdose behind
the car wash
.
got a houseful of true believers and
a can of gasoline
.
got a hidden camera to film the
blow jobs and the payoffs
.
Fifty-five hours a week at the blood factor
and your hands no longer
wash clean ...
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Gallóglaich

Gallóglaich

Poetry
Daniel Wade
Wealth of my wayfaring and mud-smeared,
The halberd slashes off necks at the root
For mounting over hearths; blood rinses my beard
.
Of the day’s trudge. Breathing hard, I slog about
This field, corpse-carpeted, air smudged in silence,
Lifting keepsakes from pockets, flames put out
.
Of my sword’s iron lightning, brandished headlong
And notched. The sun sinks to its nightly grave
As crows swoop down on haggard wing
.
To munch eye, gnaw jowl; heaven’s ...
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The Goddess of Pill and Plug

The Goddess of Pill and Plug

Poetry
Harley Claes
She wore metal draped upon her visage with a bullet born personality and a pocket full of religion. We worshipped her sin and posted dutifully as saints. As we were given by god our daily pay, for our loyalty. We paraded ourselves on the sexual horizon, and got so high on the divine we reeked eternally of celestial vomit. In the castle of god we ate macaroons with cannabutter and bathed in murky rosewater to cleanse our ...
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In the Heart of a Saturday Afternoon

In the Heart of a Saturday Afternoon

Poetry
John Grochalski
In the heart
Of a Saturday afternoon
He comes
Down the avenue
No modern day
Don Quixote or Walt Whitman
Battered leather coat
Gray greasy hair to his shoulders
A beard down to his chest
Ass hanging out of his stained brown pants
Hands shaking holding a fast food burger
Stopping in spots
To pick up and eat the lettuce and tomato
That have fallen on the pavement
As the multitudes
With their big plastic shopping bags
...
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This is My Life

This is My Life

Poetry
Mark McConville
Cocaine nightmares and hopelessness bind together,
To create a broken mind
And I’ve been sinking deeper into the abyss that I call depression
I can’t withstand the inner unhappiness and tendencies
I’m hooked on misery, serving up cocktails of pills to myself,
To try and drown out the unnerving memories.
.
She’s stuck in my mind like a splattered fly
Shovelling narcotics near the receptors
And my eyes flicker and I feel manic,
And mesmerised by daytime ...
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