The Scum Gentry Poetry Hole

Baiting

Baiting

Poetry
Manz DeFio
He told us he was a Wagoner,
But he didn’t even know what that meant.
Half his buttocks hung in thin air,
The other half planted on the bar stool.
It was hard to figure out
What the smell about him was,
Vaguely onion or vinegar.
I wondered how many times he’d been to mass,
Sitting in ...
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Thirsty Thursday

Thirsty Thursday

Poetry
Metal Maher
It’s eight oh four
I’m seated in the dining area
At a table used for gathering dust
Rather than displaying banquets on
Cigarette ash spilling from the tray
Adding to the dust
Wine in the press. It’s Thursday you see
And that means a lot to a man
It’s the last night before boorish commoners
Flake out ...
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Pale

Pale

Poetry
Dableo
Before her last breath,
He laid down a silver coin at her feet
She knew it was her time
Shunning the bargaining stage Rotted oak trees rise above the stench
Her golden locks trickled across the cracked dirt
Her lung deflated
Her eyes filled with blood
The wind splashed tears along her cheek
Her blood turning cold
The ...
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She

She

Poetry
Ian Critchley
She held a seed, in a
Cupped fist like a
Womb,
And as she slowly decreased
Her grip, the sun
Hit,
And the seed began to sprout
And blossom,
In bloom.
I said, “it reminds me of you,”
And that “once you let the dark ...
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Thoughts During an Uncomfortable Moment with Brenda Browne

Thoughts During an Uncomfortable Moment with Brenda Browne

Poetry
Laurence Vougiouklakis
I dismiss honesty
Sincerity is tedious
The human heart pumped itself dry 457 years ago
When some fucked up Italian spilled his guts
After too much wine
And complained in a wet alley
“It’s just too much, it’s just too much to take”
He probably said this in some elegant dialect
Possessed by an absurd sense of entitlement
Talking about some vile bitch
Who grew tired of ...
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Killing Kiln

Killing Kiln

Poetry
Ephraim Gast
It’s a pottery and clay day.
Aren’t we all feeling the thickness of the ether?
Yes but everyone still recoils and waters their very own laurels. Oh, look: that topsoil is blowing off!
Now old Knave and young Lark can see me.
Under that damn ramshackle stalk is a damned, festering child who’ll do The square-by-four dance each day with you ...
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