Cashed in her MFA by Scot Young

I

she wears plaid skirts
knee socks on saturday nights
drinks too much &
lets bald men spank her
for money &
tell her she’s been a bad girl
but there’s enough freaks
to pay the bills
put her kid through college
so she quit writing
poetry
a long time ago

II

on sundays she wears
fishnets to church
sits on the front pew
gives the preacher
a little hell fire
of his own
crosses & slowly recrosses
her legs enough
that he yells
during the children's service
hallelujah
give me an amen
--stays behind the pulpit
until way after
the sermon was over

Scot Young lives with the woman of his dreams and herds goats on a ridge top  farm in the Missouri Ozarks and nothing else is as important.

Southern Billboards by PW Covington

I am being screamed at by billboards
Flashing by at 75 miles an hour

Come to our Cowboy Church
Our rock and roll, guitar church
Our biker church
Our church
     our church

God damn

Visit the visitor center
The Indian Mounds
Invest this year in a new time-share
Urgent care, next exit
Free in-room coffee, High Speed Wi-Fi
We’ll get you out of your time-share
Spend the night, tonight, in San Augustine
Vasectomy

The billboards on the highway teach me
Abortion stops a beating heart
And that God listens to Christian radio
That winners play the PowerBall Lottery
That lasers can reverse my vasectomy
That the café, just 10 miles up I-75
Has totally bare waitresses, raw steaks
     and clean showers

The billboards in Louisiana argue over
Whose caged tiger lived the longest
Pecan pralines and cracklin’s up ahead
Shipyards and refineries are hiring
Mesothelioma lawyers want to hear from you
8 nonstops a day from Dairy Queen to the West Coast

Click it or ticket
You pick it, you pull it
DWI, just don’t do it
Drivers eat free at Exit 173
(And more pralines)
Fried chicken and highway diesel
Vote, vote, vote for this guy
Look how clean his family is
And the stripes on that damned flag
We support our troops and first responders
Do not pick up hitchhikers, prison area

Join us Sunday at our Progressive Church

 PW Covington writes in the beat tradition of the North American highway.

His latest book, a collection of short fiction, titled North Beach and Other Stories was recently named a 2019 Finalist in LGBTQ Fiction. Follow him @BeatPW

The Truth Is A Microdick Away From My Ass by Scott Simmons

You ever get the feeling your being watched by the government?
Or that a pizza delivery guy came over just to jerk off to Home Improvement?

There are many things that a talking condom named magic Johnson can’t teach you.
But they sure always taste good.

Sometimes being naked and covered in peanut butter in a park is the best way to get tackled by a man in a tight fitting uniform.

Also know that I KNOW WHAT YOU DID LAST SUMMER YOU SICK SON OF A BTICH!

Scott Simmons is a professional dick juggler with many talents such as oral golf ball washing and pissing underwater with his bunny friends. He likes to often drink the warmest water in public swimming pools and he can also typically be found in your shower.

Flea Market. by Ryan Quinn Flanagan

She opens her legs

and I walk into a sprawling flea market

of vendors and kiosks and collusion

watches with fake snakeskin bands

discount clothing racks

the burned spoils of modern piracy,

an Indian man catches my eye

and tries to interest me in a wood carving

that looks like something you might wake up

in bed with on a head full of acid

$4, he says, holding four fingers up in the air

to make his point

I shake my head no and walk into the backside

of this humongous hobbling woman

who is so well insulated that she does not

even feel the intrusion,

and there are fortune tellers as well

and a place where you can buy bars of fudge

and a couple kids buying fake ids

that wouldn’t even work on the blind;

it is discount pandemonium, the tin roof

ready to fall in at any moment,

and those eye rings so your fingers can stare

back at you, I decide to leave,

a voice behind me as she closes her legs:

“Please come again”

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.

Nothing Like A Orgy. by John Patrick Robnins

To blow off some steam and clean out the pipes .

To clear your thoughts and give you a reason to visit the free clinic the following day .

As you do the things of which others can only imagine and seldom ever try.

You have to question .

Is sex really worth the effort ?
Are people even worth the time ?

Sometimes it's easy to reflect in deep thoughts.

I never made the party course I was never invited either .

Guess my invitation was lost in the mail.

John Patrick Robbins

Is currently a recluse who exists only to hit the publish button and mix a good stiff drink.
Sights of him have become as rare as Bigfoot and just as terrifying being his legendary dislike for most people and mostly non drinkers .

He is currently working on driving himself totally insane and speaking to the wall people of his next move to further annoy the writing community and make himself that much more hated .

When not editing and scribbling his own yarns he enjoys black out drinking and a good human sacrifice to please the dark Lord .

And of course crying himself to sleep .
He is the Drunk Of The Year for thirteen years straight.

Cheers .

Sidewalk Slam by Mick O'Sullivan

Sometimes I think deeply bout what's underneath the water beside my ex wife's body.

Yeah she vanished under mysterious circumstances.
I'm kidding I killed her arse after I found she was messing round with that poofter Larry.

He vanished to but I heard he was buried somewhere in the outback.

Yeah rumors are crazy down here.

I guess I should have disposed of them togather course I was never one for granting wishes.

No I'm far from a geni in a bottle but I do have something I enjoy rubbing on a regular basis.


And now that bitch is dead.

I think I'm getting carpal tunnel from my long nights spent alone underneath the stars.

Vist Australia.

                          Mick O'Sullivan

Is the acclaimed editor of The Roo Review .
A mag that prides itself on taking the longest time on rejecting your work once is Tweenty years .

When not putting togather this fantastic journal Mick enjoys partaking of many a case of Tooheys Extra Dry and hunting human beings for sport on his lavish outback compound .

He once throat punched Paul Hogan at a pub in Brisbane for making that fucking movie .
He enjoys cooking and collecting ceramic elephants .


This is his first outside publication as he is far to  busy running his journal to do anything but jack off and get pissed .

The Bohemian Life by Bruce Hodder

Cheap
toilet paper.
Finger
caked
in shit.

Bruce Hodder lives with Michelle in Northampton, the most statistically average town in England. He has been published in quite a few magazines over the years, most recently ‘Academy of Heart and mind’ and ‘Winedrunk Sidewalk’.