Beau Johnson

by Horror Sleaze Trash on January 23, 2017

 
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Beau Johnson has been published before, usually on the darker side of town.  Such fine establishments might include Out of the Gutter Online, Shotgun Honey, and/or Spelk Fiction.  The first book he ever read was Misery by King.  He hasn’t looked back since.
 
 

ALL THINGS SERVE THE BEAM

 

I’ve found it.  It was right where it should have been too, just a little more than halfway down the steps that led to the pantry of Al’s Diner.  In the book it’s a type of doorway used to try and stop Oswald from taking out JFK.  

This will not be the case with me. 

There are two reasons for this.  One is that things are different than how the Author explained: no set time limit which might reset when any given character attempts to change the past.  The walls are thin here, yes, but it’s not time travel we’re talking about.  Not in the least.

            The second thing is this: there are other worlds than these.

            For truth, I think I have found the gateway to stories; to where each of them originate.  It is the story, not he who tells it.  Pretty sure I’ve heard him say this many times throughout the years.  I never believed it though, not fully.  Not until now.  How could I not?  I mean, I have met the girl now, the first one I ever heard told to plug it up.  I was an extra, sure, there in the background amongst the crowd at the prom.  Fortunate for me I made it out before the pig’s blood fell and the doors began to shut.  It was tougher than I imagined too, and heartbreaking, and only because I now stood within what once I only read.  

I hope I am making myself clear.  The world I believe depends upon it. 

Discovering all this caused certain scenarios to enter my mind, numero uno being this: could I now affect things?  Bold, I know, but the situation itself beyond anything I ever thought possible.  I think the Author knew this too, or knows, and might have been subconsciously leaving breadcrumbs for someone like me to find.  He needs help is what I think this means.  All told, I’d set my watch and warrant on it.

            Me saying things like that, this is what has gotten me through.  I’m talking all of it too, every story.  Not just the thing behind the clown or what Ben Mears found in the ‘Lot.  It comes to what things always come to: the Tower.  From one book to the next it seems to be in there or just around, glowing like a buried stone.  Excavated or not, it sings like Susannah and forces me to aim with my heart and not with my hand.

            Do you see how I have not forgotten the face of my father?

            I had to investigate though, and I had to be sure.  Onwards I went, from world to world.  From dog to dome to plague; all of it like some mutated Deja vu which tugged at my core.  It means Mordred is in fact a-hungry and Harold Lauder will always jump.  I meet Paul Sheldon, Dinky Earnshaw, and poor Nick Andros before he figures things out.  They speak to me.  Spoke to me.  But none of them for long.  A line or two here, a description of who I think is me there.  It’s as this occurs that I realize the magnitude of what I’m to do.

            And that Mother Abigail would be proud.

            I had to test it though, had to be sure.  At first it didn’t work, not all the times I travelled and tried to save Gage from that semi.  The last time however, the last time something new transpired as I attempted to prove what I believe is possible.  The Author brought the child back.  He did so from the grave, yes, but my mother always said a victory was a victory no matter its size.  It also meant I was ready; that I had come into my own.

But I would not go in as Patrick Danville, not as a device placed books before an ending had yet come.  No, I would be new.  I would be fresh.   Becoming everything he required to find his way home.

            The man in black would flee across the desert, and horn or no horn, I and the gunslinger would follow.

 

 

Changming Yuan

by Horror Sleaze Trash on January 20, 2017

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Changming Yuan, 9-time Pushcart nominee and one-time Best of the Net nominee, started to learn English at age 19 and published monographs on translation before moving out of China. Currently, Changming edits Poetry Pacific with Allen Yuan in Vancouver, and has poetry appearing in Best Canadian Poetry, BestNewPoemsOnline, Threepenny Review and 1249 others.

 


 

[asgardia: second choice]

 

Last time I was not chosen

 

This time I have selected myself

To join the mass long march

Towards Asgardia though

Without a Morse as our leader

 

I know I cannot go to heaven

But I can flee from hell

 

 

[la lute finale or last trial]

 

All rise [les damnés de la terre?]

Oyez, Oyez, Oyez

 

With neither jury nor audience

Who is to win man’s case

 

Nature or God? [ L’Internationale
Sera le genre humain!]

 

 

[americhina vs chinamerica]  

 

Under our great gunvernment

Which now hates z-turning most

Our society is a true socialist democrazy

Full of shitizens (and stupigs)

 

While many a department and its head

Are trying to pursue propoorpty

As well as a fine sexretary

Most other chinsumers love to

 

Demonstrate their amimale

In front of circumseers

Like those who enjoy living togayther

In smilence

 

[microphone gaffe again?]
After my election, I have more flexibility
To deal with liars like Netanyahu on a
Daily basis, to put up with the hair of that
Bigoted woman, to show my admiration
Of Moshe for raping ten employees of
His office, to crucify all the major league
Assholes and cabinet bastards, to outlaw
Russian forever, to get rid of our debts
By killing all Chinese on earth and
Even more important perhaps, to learn
The lessons about when the microphone is
On, and when it is off like right now

Go to hell, all you fucking idiot voters 

 

[drafting the declaration of dependence]

 

    No

Men

    Are

Created

    Equal

But

    Everyone

Tries

    To

Live

As such

 

 

[the moment I pick up a powerful nation

this little poem of mine goes right]

 

Only recently did I become alert to how

I resemble uncle Sam. They – it? – don’t

Like China. I don’t like China either

(Though not for the same reasons.) They try

To reap cash in all prospering economies; I

Try to gather every penny from the corner

Wherever I can see and lay my humble hands

They hold high their banners of democracy

And human rights; I like my rights and detest 

Dictatorship (though perhaps for different

Purposes.) In particular, they enjoy bullying

The weak, dodging the strong, disturbing

Waters to fish and using dirty tricks to keep

All others down; I am ready to say foul words

To do whatever possible to rise above myself

In this harshest human condition, although I

Was not born to be a villain. The only difference

Lies in the degree to which I am selfish, villainous

Hypercritic, and they–it? — are way more so

 

 

[languacolonization] 

 

Is a British word meaning to modernize

To globalize, or to Americanize

All the colonies with an imperial syntax

 

Yes, it refers to the English Empire, where

The moon never sets, nor even the Babel Tower

Has a chance to rise, it was established to

Anglicize not only the local dialect

Spoken on each of those barren islands

But also the way all native minds

Living in the central parts of continents

Spell their own names, paint their road signs

In this wild world newly digitalized

 

You came, you see, you’re conquering

With a whole set of rules to grammaticize…

 

 

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