November 8-14, 2010: Scott Waldon and Annie Avery

Scott Waldon 


Bio (auto)

I am a 36 year old writer from Indiana I live in Scottsburg, Indiana with my wife and two children I have been writing for about 35 years, have been previously published in small
press magazines.

The following work is Copyright © 2010, and owned by Scott Waldon and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.


America! (with respect to W.W & A.G )

This struggling accomplished path winds,
Spiral like stairs leading us to the point;
Average winged hipsters today more like
Displaced thugs With no sense At every corner, we’re speaking rigorous
Reminders That we all eventually yawn America, I’m wore out, worrying about
This junk America, your womb’s been cast out
America, our children are all fastly
Becoming basta’ds Our roads turning into lavic landslides
Of unfinished destinies Prowling inadequacies are hard to out run,
When they’re sewn into bone Absent of marrow Life too fully lived Gorged on the juicy decay of existence America!, Our infrequent landscapes
Have fragmented, pulled apart by every
Finger scarred with the blood of augury How many steps must be counted before I reach
The twisted vision of youths’ immortal stare?
America!, I often try to remember that
There’s more than you, on this continental
America, sometimes I lose track
How many lines have been navigated?
& yet the message is always still sitting
Beneath the page,  Scratching these thoughts
In to sunlit sheets of autumnal growth America, I must stop listening to the staggering
Static soliloquy of your all too destructive nature America, I needlessly have lost all trace
Of virginity; Of the body; Of the soul;
& now, wafting in winds of mortal breath
America, I have lost the virginity of my mind Smashed with the aluminum ball bat
Of times anger!
These are the times.These are the times!
Long bleached, drawn out
Boredom filled & kept just barely above
The soil by cookies, Ims, texts, tiny gigibite
Morsels & flash fictions Oh America!
Don’t you love the sound of the click
Of the mouse?As I slowly click my mind
Away in a nuclear breeze
Caused by your terminal dis ease?
I have captured clouds here, bubbling
Fluffy white puffs of air; in my
Little skull shack I have snagged dragons’ & used their scales
To construct new skin, their blood for ink,
I have given birth to a new world
That takes breath Breeding fire storms of molecular moans
& flourescent fuel for the trip America, I must warn you;
An apocalyptic fury grows here -A song of departure My mucous thickens & etches itsself
In the soft corpses of trees My hands tremble
America,  holding the last aeon
In lap; Gurggling euphoric dangers
Of listening to the news
America, I must let loose
This desired dream of your once great





Annie Avery

Bio (auto)

Annie Avery has been writing poetry since childhood Annie also practices yoga and gymnastics and is an aspiring actor She thanks God for the many blessings in her life, foremost of which is her beautiful daughter Darien She lives in South Pasadena, California. 

Visit Annie on the web here:

The following work is Copyright © 2010, and owned by Annie Avery and may not be distributed or reprinted in any form whatsoever without written permission from the author.




I come to you a careening truck spilling bricks
The silence in the chaos beckons and I listen to it like a naughty girl
I don’t know how much longer I can smile through this inane poker face
Your greatness is awkward against the crowd









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