Saturday, January 16, 2021

Some Tortilla de Patatas by Gwil James Thomas

Back in my kitchen I cooked 
some tortilla de patatas 
and thought back to 
several Spanish tavernas that
I’d once known and how each 
taverna had their own version 
of tortilla de patatas 
and also how in each taverna 
the customers would stampede 
to the bar whenever 
a fresh plate was laid down - 
as tables were overturned, 
And people were trampled upon, 
and elderly women swung 
their handbags at one another - 
but each slice was delicious, 
cheap and enough to keep 
you going until the sun rolled 
back over those mountains - 
even if the taste still lingered
in your mind for much longer. 

 Gwil James Thomas is a poet, novelist and inept musician. He lives in his hometown of Bristol, England, but has also lived in London, Brighton and Spain. He’s recently been published in Alchemy & Elegy, The Black Shamrock Magazine, Expat Press and Terror House Magazine. His latest chapbook is Cocoon Transitions (Analog Submission Press) :

Tuesday, December 1, 2020

Discussing Scrolls / Ryan Quinn Flanagan

1) In your newest scroll, I see you choose paper binding opposed to my people's preferred flesh bound pages. Please enlighten me to the wicked influencer who cast this wicked sorcery upon you.

RQF: I was recently cursed by some sorcerer from Orange County who hypnotized me into using paper instead of human flesh, but I have since broken the idle curse and am planning to go back to human flesh bound pages with all future projects. 

2) In your many conquests of poetic kingdoms please tell me of your favorite battles and whose head did you most enjoy claiming?

RQF: Ah, the great battles of the word are most pleasing.  My favourite slaying was not a single head at all, but rather my recent slaying of Eddie Van Halen.  I have fashioned his bones and guitar picks into a necklace the pleased my favourite wench immensely.

3) Why within your pages is there not more rape? Does this not concern you with controlling your people within your court?

RQF: My people within the Canadian kingdom have been plied with much Canadian mead and maple syrup.  I still have to watch them and am definitely planning to include both more rape and pillaging in future works to please my bloodthirsty snow blind brood.

4) In the write Dating The Pyramids, why did you not simply wait until your father was sleeping to overthrow his village? So you may claim the spoils of war as a true Viking and place his head upon his iron chariot.

RQF:  It was a true moment of weakness my good Viking friend.  I believe some hippy-dippy witch cast spells of delirium on me.  I have sent out my ravenous snow legions to dispatch of said witch and since taken steps to remove the head of the father and overthrow his puny lands.

5) How many writes in this book are inspired by rape?

RQF:  Probably a 50/50 split between rape and pillage to be honest.  Both activities bring great enjoyment to our great kingdoms of the North.

It's okay to speak without fear of the hairy legged wenches.

I will have my sea hag sorceress cast a spell of invisibility over your answer.

RQF: No need my friend.  Although a spell of invisibility over our marauding ships to foreign shores would be most appreciated.

6)What sorcerer created the emoji?

RQF: I have slain the treacherous emoji sorcerer and smite them down.  Their face now adorns the wall of my main chamber and I assure you it is not a happy face.

And how have you personally witnessed this curse’s effect on the men of your village?

RQF: The men of my village would grow sleepy and weak with single affections.  They would speak of their yolos and lols and other sorcery.  We have removed their tongues and cast them upon the fires of purification.  The remaining men were suddenly cured and there has been no further emoji incursions into these sacred lands.

7)The Ogress of Reading, pleased Rathnar greatly and the thought of this mighty female ogre has Rathnar now desiring a date with such a wonderful creature where may I find her?

RQF: The Ogress of Reading has been killed, but I am certain her corpse may be dug up and enjoyed by the great Rathnar.  She lays close to your kingdom, your mighty warships can probably return with her in less than a fortnight when the moon stabs the wailing sky with great lust.

8)Tell me of the women's thoughts of your scrolls? Are they consumed with lust at the sheer size of your scrolls?

RQF: They are.  The size of one’s scrolls is central to all the moaning and screams of approval.  Those that are not are broken and quickly cast into the crashing sea of despair. 

9) Rathnar recently has fell victim to the curse of dripping fire. What are your recommended cures in dealing with this sorcery?

RQF:  A common affliction among the might warriors, my friend.  In my kingdom it is good practice to slay two deer and rub the pelts of restoration upon one’s loins until the sun’s third departure.  Then you must sacrifice six virgins to the applicable god and wait for blood news from the altar.

10) Do you find it hard finding a publisher as I do.  Is it hard to fight your urges to kill them? And who would you recommend Ratnar seek out to publish his newest scroll?

RQF:  Finding a publisher is not too hard in this realm, but keeping one is.  As a great warrior such as yourself knows, the urge to kill them is strong.  I would recommend a publisher with a death wish, someone who does not mind being tossed into the great volcano heart at completion of a new scroll.

11) Gasket Blower is a fine write within your newest scroll. Please tell Rathnar the genesis of this poem.

RQF: This poem was written while on rampage far from home.  In the long hours of travel there is much time to complete scrolls and sharpen weaponry for the coming slaughter.  The poem was eventually composed in the blood of the vanquished, of course. 

12) On Rathnar's favorite literary podcast The Ron Murphy Experience, I discovered your journeys have taken you to Paris. Where are the weakest points of attack upon this kingdom? I'm asking for a friend.

RQF: This is true.  Invasion of the Gaullic lands can be made by north and south.  The south is lightly guarded, but further away from mighty Rathnar.  The city itself is more centrally located and must be taken by either siege or starvation of both.  This friend of yours would do well to bring much bread and wine to lure the inhabitants out.  Or he could fashion a giant baguette and hide his men inside as it is taken within city walls, then attack at night when the fires of destruction shine brightest.

13) When not penning scrolls describe the perfect evening within your kingdom.

RQF: A perfect evening within the snow kingdom consists of drink of much mead and the loins of many wenches.  There is also the beheading of slaves and we bet on the unicorn chariots in these realms as well. I am sure the sacraments are rather similar to the Great Rathnar and his mighty kingdom. 

14) The sorcerer Santa Claus once again is nearing his season of rampage.  How do you prepare to kill this fat little dwarf?  And once again did he smite you as he did Rathnar?  Not granting him with a new Xbox and fifteen new Latina wenches.

RQF:  The fat little dwarf and his season of rampage will be short.  He has offended both our kingdoms and will be cast upon the fires of purification so his little screams may be heard throughout the hinterlands. 

15) How does the Mighty Rathnar submit to the RQF Quarterly?

RQF:  Please submit 3-5 human flesh bound scrolls written in the blood of the newly vanquished.  Send all scrolls by ship or mighty bird god and await word from the Northern kingdom by similar means.  The bearer of good news is to then be sacrificed so the gods may be satiated.  Simultaneous killings are accepted. No previous corpses please.

16) Why have you not made more scrolls with covers of big breasted wenches?

RQF: An oversight of my tradespeople who find themselves no longer among the living.  My next scroll shall be wholly constructed out of big breasted wenches.  Their skins will hold great words that shall please the Mighty Rathnar greatly.

17. Please tell me of the legend of the Canadian unicorn beast?  And is it true it lures men naked into the woods with the smell of maple syrup.

RQF: This was a great affliction of our peoples in the past.  We have conquered both the manufacturers of maple Syrup as well as the great unicorn herds which have now been conscripted into the ranks of our rampaging armies.

19) I like you in a Viking way shall we go pillage together?

RQF:  We shall unite our kingdoms 30 moons from this day and slay the sorcerer Santa Claus.  We shall wear his reindeer on our heads and cloth the wenches in fresh hides.

22) Rathnar has been banned from reading in your country and most so called kingdoms tell me how this has affected your writing?

RQF: Tell me who has banned you in my kingdoms, my friend, and I shall paint myself in their foolish blood.  I will send you their head(s) for the waiting stakes you have erected.

69) How does Killjoy Dance hold up to your previous scrolls and what does the future hold for your work.  Please answer without consulting your tribe's future seeing wench.

RQF: Killjoy Dance involves much killing.  My newest scroll Kill Scenester deals with more killing.  Without consulting the future seeing wench, I imagine future scrolls will expand of this worthy notion of slaughter.

300) After each book do you feel accomplished or are you too busy moving on to the next project?

RQF: After each new scroll it is necessary to move onto the next.  More lands must be ransacked and more scrolls must be produced.  The great blood gods of slaughter wait for no one.

100) How would you rate this interview? As it is the Mighty Rathnar's first foray into the normally unsavage world of journalism?

RQF: You have done a great deed, my mighty friend!  Your first foray into the world of journalism has been perfectly savage and devoid of the weak knees of sorcery.  20,000 wenches upon your blessed house, my great Viking friend!

Saturday, October 31, 2020

Smartass Bullshit by Scott Simmons

If you ever call me the smartest person you’ve met

It means one of two things.

You are either highly delusional or you have literally never met anyone else.

Seriously both of those things are very fucked up on your part,

but then again I guess so is my hearing.

Scott Simmons hair has caused the disappearance of 40 different species within the last decades and it also currently contains the decent season of Lost before Sonic the hedgehog ruined the series with his crystal meth addiction. If you would like to send your pee in the mail to him then send it over Ryan's house in a leaky bucket. 

New Shoes Opinion Of Older Ones by John Patrick Robbins

Often the overpriced ones hate last year's.
Yet hold respect for vintage jeans.
Mustard stains provided by Tommy Hilfiger are far more desirable, than those applied by Earle who works the gas station down in Evansville Indiana 
The runway is a distant cousin to the treadmill. 
Who although related, never acknowledge one another.
The Jack boot never Jack's off.
For it's to respected in its sinister desire.
A death march beats a peace rally.
The pizza is truly just a sloppy cheeseburger.
With more toppings but I'm more into the buns myself.
We're all naked inside,  with a ton of stinky parts.
Shoes only need feet.
Unlike humans with empty souls.

              John Patrick Robbins 

Currently resides on the Death Star and enjoys destroying planets and long nights spent alone binge drinking and crying himself to sleep.

He also collects ceramic cats and fine wines .

He runs the legion of doom in his free time.
And yes he did target you in one of his many misspelled writes.

He has published in. Tiger Beat Magazine, The Illuminati Quarterly , Esquire, The Ryan Quinn Flanagan Quarterly, The Paranoid Fuckers Review and the Justin Bieber Anthology Series.

He has also been nominated for a Grammy for his duet with Roy Rogers.

Please drink responsibly and allow your dog to park the car.

Night Of The Dwarfs by Rathnar

Tonight the mighty Rathnar keeps the fires burning, awaiting the little demon dwarfs 

Raiding my village demanding treats.

I have sharpened my battle axe.
And drank much mead and feasted upon mushrooms of the magic stew.

I will bathe in their blood and claim many heads to take place upon the pike to please Odin in the morning.

The great serpents minions shall not defeat Rathnar.
Tonight I do battle and will chase these odd mini demons back to abyss where they belong.

Then return to rape the near by villages to restore order.
Thor, guide my axe and let not the evil monsters bring this Viking down.

Tonight I fight and raise my drinking horn to my brothers.

See you in Vallhala  where we shall feast and kill for eternity.

All hail the mighty Rathnar.

Rathnar Kilbane, is the poet laureate of Iceland.
He enjoys raiding villages and pillaging.
His scrolls have been published many places, such as.

The New Yorker, The Old Red Dragon Review, Esquire Magazine, The Dope Fiend Daily, The Ryan Quinn Flanagan Quarterly, and The Modern Viking Spring Catalog.

He was recently nominated for a Pulitzer for his soon to be published scroll from High Times Magazine.

Testimonials by Ryan Quinn Flanagan

If you haven’t read the testimonials,

they could flatter smug Jimmy Hoffa out of hiding;

don’t the teamsters sound like a greased up 

gangbang with a pension fund?

It is important to plan ahead.

To have all those bars of Xanax you need

for the drive.

Slamming into oncoming traffic

in your neighbour’s red four door

that is just happy to finally be part 

of the apocalypse.

Ryan Quinn Flanagan is a male gigolo for hire.  Presently residing along the sunny shores of Guantanamo Bay, Cuba where he spends his days drinking discount Tequila and accusing chemtrails of being "sky farts."  His work can be found both in print and online in such joints as: The Rye Whiskey Review, The Dope Fiend Daily, Outlaw Poetry Network, Horror Sleaze Trash, and Under The Bleachers.

Why Were The Knives Not Kept Hidden? by Kevin Hibshman

Poor boy.

Born poor.

He listens in to voices that promise him more than

the seedy life of loss he has known.

He has suffered at the hands of others after bending himself to their will.

He wanders blithely if anything can yet be discovered among the empty days he 

struggles to fill.

They tried to reason with him when they thought his demons were asleep.

They offered plans, gave him more pills and made promises they could never 

hope to keep.

His anger raged, a pure white flame, one afternoon when the thin line snapped.

The cops broke down the door and quickly took aim when they realized he held

a knife behind his back.

“He stabbed me once,” his mother shrieked.

“He will surely stab again.”

As they carried out his lifeless form, one officer asked: 

“Why weren't the knives kept hidden?”

Kevin M. Hibshman has had poems published in many journals and magazines world wide. In addition, he has edited his poetry zine, Fearless, since 1990 and is the author of sixteen chapbooks including Love Sex Death Dreams (Green Bean Press, 2000) and Incessant Shining (Alternating Current, 2011).

Some Tortilla de Patatas by Gwil James Thomas

Back in my kitchen I cooked  some tortilla de patatas  and thought back to  several Spanish tavernas that I’d once known and how each  taver...