Iambic Ixplosion

“go milf go”
by David E. Haase

hot milf cold milf
sad milf happy milf

hello
hello
do you like my ass?
no, I do not like your ass
goodbye
goodbye

long milf short milf
bulimic milf stiletto milf

hello
hello
do you like my ass?
I harnessed it tighter
than my chest
no, I do not like your ass
tighter harnessed than your chest
goodbye
goodbye

perfume milf
swine milf
lactating milf
milf with early menopause
monster milf cheerleader milf

hello
hello
do you like my ass?
today shaped like a heart
no, I do not like your ass
heart shape ass
goodbye
goodbye

stealth milf filth milf
lexus milf quilted milf
O, what a nexus of
lovely milf

hello
for christ’s sake lady
I’m just picking
my kid up from
school

I will not attend
to your filf party
goodbye
goodbye

Two Poems
by David Schwartz

Bev and Jan and Deb
Each and every one of them
Do have a head

–

There are certain words
I don’t know the meaning of
One is the word love

“Under Heaven”
by Noam D. Plum

The bar-and-grill chef fries the steak.
The charmer serenades the snake.
The boss critiques.
The trucker slaps himself awake.
The dealer buys old junk to make
His fine antiques.
The scientist predicts the quake.
The clam sauce makes your stomach ache.
The burglar sneaks.
The skilled mechanic eyes the brake
And tells you, “This is gonna take
A couple weeks.”

The baby burps. The toilet leaks.
The splatter movie victim shrieks.
The old man stoops.
The meter runs. The tourist seeks
The john. The older brother tweaks.
The neighbor snoops.
The maitre d’ brown noses sheiks.
The rock star screams. The bedspring squeaks.
The drunkard droops.
The wrestler grunts. The dullard speaks
A lot. The starlet’s dresser peeks.
The nincom poops.

The farmer builds his chicken coops.
The Botticelli forger dupes
Us with a fake.
The butler sees. The waitress scoops
Mint ice cream out in tiny goops
On chocolate cake.
The stunt man flies his loop-de-loops.
The jury naps. The fight fan whoops
For Giant Jake.
The soldier out of all the troops
Who guards the big red switch says, “Oops!
Well, my mistake.”

First published in Light Quarterly

“In The Early Nineteen Sixties Wearing A Pink Shirt Was Considered Very Risque – or – Hello Sailor (written in Polari)”
by Ben Nitt

On me todd I trolled down the Dilly,
cackle in the bungery, una, dewey bevvies
before off cottaging for trade being all a bit

nanty dinarly.  When in minces a dish
of an omipolone, couldn’t ‘elp but varda
at the nellie clobber, bona corybungus,

bona ecaf cutely framed by oglefakes; dark an’ moody.
Me thinks to meself she’s a riah shusher
or with them thews maybe a chorus line hoofer.

She smiles at me, pots shiny like searchlights
as she twinkles glossie fruit; wouldn’t say no to a bite.
“How bona to varda your dolly old eek” says I,

“care for a bouvare?”
“Egg nog”she grins with a come on glint,
and the sweet chicken and I cants away in the old polari.

But I can’t keep me shrews out of the basket,
well it’s hardly bijou, as she registers my interest
says she; “I would, would you?”

Trollop she be smiles; “let’s be off to the khazi.”
Well not known for being backwards
in the art of coming forwards

I parades the way, she follows,
and no sooner me lallies were round me ankles
and me bingey stands proud; ooh hello sailor,

me thinking this is gonna turn out to be right bona nocky
when out of the blue she pulls out a silver bracelet;
“you’re nicked,” she says, “‘m a charpering omie.”