P.A. Levy… Do As Yer Told


Do As Yer Told

the numb voice on the tube
says please mind the gap
in a tone seductively dripping with
suicidal tendencies
perhaps she wrote the
government safety leaflet
in case of
a nuclear attack
hide under the kitchen table
and pray to yer god –

good luck with that

charlie says always tell
yer mummy before you go
walking with zombies
listening to the horns of jericho
on yer iPod
full volume
rip up the dancehall
drum & rubble > crash > jungle
(out there)
and to beware of

studded leather trouble

lurking in the subway
all part of spraycan histrionics
cross over to the other side
look left          look right
remember what the green cross super hero
told us and look left again
but he never explained one way traffic
or playing grand theft auto
we value your custom
press option three
then hold
attack decay sustain release


Born East London but now residing amongst the hedge mumblers of rural Suffolk U.K., Pushcart nominee P.A. Levy has been published in many magazines, from ‘A cappella Zoo’ to ‘Zygote In My Coffee’ and stations in-between. He is also a founding member of the Clueless Collective and can be found loitering on page corners and wearing hoodies at www.cluelesscollective.co.uk

Copyright © 2015 by P.A. Levy







Richard Pinner… Response Ability


Response Ability

I would do anything

To trade places with that image

That I had in my head that I can’t write down

What I was told

What I heard

Left me speechless

And at the time words were essential

They should have been words of joy



Rejuvenation. Congratulation

Friday the 13th

We were still shouting at each other when I opened the champagne


Richard Pinner is an associate professor at Sophia University, Tokyo. A born worrier, he fluctuates between optimism and despair on a regular basis. His work has been published in Aesthetica and The Vein and his first collection of short stories is due out under Par Avion Press later in 2014.

Copyright © 2015 by Richard Pinner









John Grey… A Poet in the Park in January


A Poet in the Park in January

When I see kids in the park with tubes and boards,
watched over by bundled-up parents,
I don’t bother telling myself,
I could be that parent,
dutifully passing on all I know
of trudging up and sliding down.
It’s never a case of jealousy,
of crawling into fitful sleep,
my face awash in teary pillow,
sobbing for all the offspring I never had.
I don’t ever want to be the one
who zips up the leg of that snowsuit,
brushes away the white stuff
from the backs of tiny jackets.
No need to rush to the aid
of the bawling brat
on the overturned sled.
He’s not my boy.
I didn’t buy that sled.
Sure, I linger by the bustling white playground,
but just to imagine myself at that age,
gliding down hills,
tumbling, struggling to my feet,
laughing, tossing the biggest, whitest ball
at the girl in the long blonde pigtails.
I’m a poet, not a father.
I sire these recollections.
The rest are unrecorded at worst,
loved at best.


John Grey is an Australian born poet. Recently published in International Poetry Review, Vallum and the science fiction anthology, “The Kennedy Curse” with work upcoming in Bryant Literary Magazine, Natural Bridge and the Pedestal.

Copyright © 2015 John Grey