A cock crows
beginning the fast
from dawn to dusk
sins burned away
the living pray.

This is Somalia, land of corpses.

Vultures circle
the feast never ends
from now till forever
skin stripped from bone
the dead hunger.

This is Somalia.
Old traditions have fallen
There is no god but Allah…
replaced by
There is no god.

This is Somalia. This is hell.

END

—–

Brian Rosenberger was last seen in the company of Sushi, a featured dancer at Innsmouth’s infamous Thrills and Gills Gentleman’s Club. Recent publishing credits include Read by Dawn V. 3, Yellow Mama, Cemetery Moon, the 2008 Rhysling Anthology and Erotic Tales. Updates concerning his current whereabouts can be found at http://home.earthlink.net/~brosenberger.

Gospel, true as the grave is cold

But it does forget

Eyes snow blind with hope, believing

The lies told with frozen breath

A blizzard of desperation

Lies like everything is under control,

No cause for alarm, do not panic,

We are safe

False reality melts with

Spring time thaw

Truths now revealed

Their prisons of ice melted

Now rivers of freedom

The Dead of Winter

Resume their stunted march

Their frost bitten victims

The dead of Summer

If they survive that long

—–

Bio: Brian Rosenberger lives in the suburban wilds of Marietta, GA and is active in the Adopt-A-Bigfoot program, a volunteer organization concerned with the care and rescue of this unrecognized endangered species. Additional information about Brian and his other inhumanatarian efforts can be found at http://home.earthlink.net/~brosenberger.

END

—–

Brian Rosenberger was last seen in the company of Sushi, a featured dancer at Innsmouth’s infamous Thrills and Gills Gentleman’s Club. Prior to that, his writings appeared or will be appearing in Cthulhu Sex Magazine, Erotic Tales V. 2, Blackest Death V. 3, Twisted Cat Tales and more. He also authored the chapbook Poems that Go SPLAT. Updates concerning his current whereabouts can be found at home.earthlink.net/~brosenberger.

what better way
to plague man
than with man
neither locust nor flies
nor darkness would
suffice this go round

some called it
the Year of the Toad
as certain amphibians
lie dormant during
dry seasons returning
with the rains just as
they returned casting
off their shrouds of Earth
no longer captives
to the ground
others, less poetic,
named it
the Year Without End

they came

some crawling
some on rotted stumps
shambling mounds of decayed flesh
skeletons of their former selves

they saw

at least the ones still in possession
of theirs eyes did
others, victim to the worm and time,
made their way on instinct
even a blind predator
will find prey

they digested

as much as toothless jaws,
jawless faces and
bloodless, nonfunctioning
organs would allow

It was a resurrection parade
like no other
recycled citizens emptying from
their necropolitic cities to
make room for new occupants
the unliving embodiment
of consumerism with the
emphasis on consume

and they did

The meek lost
their inheritance
now sole property
(soul property)
of the dead
END

—-

Brian Rosenberger was last seen in the company of Sushi, a featured dancer at Innsmouth’s infamous Thrills and Gills Gentleman’s Club. Prior to that, his writings appeared or will be appearing in Cthulhu Sex Magazine, Erotic Tales V. 2, Blackest Death V. 3, Twisted Cat Tales and more. He also authored the chapbook Poems that Go SPLAT. Updates concerning his current whereabouts can be found at http://home.earthlink.net/~brosenberger.

drowning in ocular fluid

rubbing and rubbing

out plopped his eye

No bites in the afternoon

just a smell similar to raw fish

putting a stink in the air

a skunk would have been perfume

The water as quiet as a vacant casket

Just around midnight

a nibble

the remaining eye focused

on the rod tip

the line goes slack

slowly he reels

crank after agonizing crank

the hook empty

save for moss

the color of his smile

Barbs sink into soft flesh

a lily pad hue

He accidentally cast his thumb

slowly bobbing like a hitchhiker

needing a ride, before sinking from view

Another nibble transformed into a strike

The catfish cartwheels in the water

whiskers twitching like an exposed nerve

The line snaps

His forehead squirms in anger

No need to worry

still plenty of worms

END

—-

Bio: Brian Rosenberger was last seen in the company of Sushi, a featured dancer at Innsmouth’s infamous Thrills and Gills Gentleman’s Club. Prior to that, his writings appeared or will be appearing in Cthulhu Sex Magazine, Erotic Tales V. 2, Blackest Death V. 3, Twisted Cat Tales and more. He also authored the chapbook Poems that Go SPLAT. Updates concerning his current
whereabouts can be found at http://home.earthlink.net/~brosenberger