Issue 52 – Recycled Futures

By David Edwards

When Time reaches its
pivot, and falls back
upon itself, History
becomes Prophecy… that which
was will be again.
Future Recycled.

garbage of old Earth
recycled into new myths
heroes made of junk

By DJ Tyrer


The Plague of Plagiarism
By Mark Hudson

By the time the Sumerians
developed writing in cuneiform,
they were being robbed by librarians
who poisoned them with chloroform.

The Phoenicians did better yet,
they created a new alphabet.
But the Greeks became demonic,
that’s why were all hooked on phonics.

Greek drama evolved in Athens,
and they also had many laugh-ins.
Each writer borrowed from the other,
these brothers from another mother.

Switching to the Medieval,
the times were mostly evil.
King Arthur and the Round Table,
can now be seen on your cable.

Gutenberg created the printing press,
and books became a success.
He was a thief from overseas,
he stole the idea from the Chinese.

And ever since the early days,
writers have stolen in many ways.
In the golden age of science fiction,
plagiarism became an affliction.

No one penned more than Asimov,
but everybody rips him off.
Who can write like Bradbury?
His tales once seemed so scary.

What used to be just fantasy
is now becoming reality.
Nothing new under the sun,
as life on earth isn’t much fun.

Recycle till there is nothing left,
like a sad, musical cleft.
Till the scorecard begins to read zero,
and the villain is now the new hero.

But new writers will come soon,
with brand new outlooks on the moon.
Right now, they may be in their womb,
I hope the world will leave them some room.


God of Sea
By Clive Donovan

It was as if the God of sea himself rose up
Streaming from his shoulders, weed and attendant fish;

Commanding, with stiff trident, waves and foam and tide.
We always knew he was down in there somewhere deep,

Receiving shoals, directing whales and dolphins,
Dealing with plastic chemical gifts from land.

But now he’d had enough and in his wrath divine,
Roaring with the force of a tsunami, he wept:

Great salt tears plopped wetly on the seaside towns
And the people died, scrabbling, in scum of sea.

World of Waste
By Mark Hudson

In the not too distant future, the Earth was a mess,
a dumpster world full of trash and stress.
The ozone layer left people breathless and dead,
they decided to live on the Moon instead.

The first people to go were the elite,
the one percent reserved their seat.
They had garbage and recycling bins,
where the poor dug from once again.

They built the first MacDonalds on the Moon,
and one was coming to Jupiter soon.
In order to compete, Burger king,
built a bigger restaurant with bling.

But vegans wanted to just eat plants,
but gardens were destroyed by space ants.
There were roaches left from a nuclear war,
they put them in a missile, and sent them to Thor.

An insect free universe, was the hope,
but without French fries, no one could cope.
Some of the pioneers just ate capsules,
that might’ve tasted like pears and apples.

But the astronauts said, “Are you ready?
We’re going to the moon, ain’t no spaghetti!
There ain’t going to be pizza either,
nor any aspirin for a pain reliever!”

So eventually, they recruited cooks,
and recruited woman for their looks.
And casinos and whorehouses were brought,
not a single church had been sought.

Pretty soon the moon was a waste,
just like earth, a din of bad taste.
When would the moon be destroyed as well?
Why did it so quickly become a hell?

Well the politicians came, promising lots,
but people just stood around, smoking pot.
The protests were useless, everybody died,
the Moon was an embarrassment to hide!

So they started to send people to Jupiter,
and of course it made people stupider.
But it wasn’t anybody’s fault at all,
we are all descendants of the Neanderthal!


Colosseum 2.0; or, Amphitheatrum Futurium
By Harris Coverley

Tyrrhenian Sea
dried into a salt desert —
yet in the middle
gladiators fight again
for the last of Man’s glory

Issue 49 – Prophecy

Prophetic the voice
of thunder… to attention
the umbrella snaps

By David Edwards

Seeking the future
Unprepared for what will be
Ignorance is bliss

By Aeronwy Dafies

Do They Really Want To Know
By K. A. Williams

In just a few days
I would meet a handsome man
We would fall in love
But soon he would cheat on me
In a rage, I would stab him


Sibyl’s Tongue
Harris Coverley

Searching through the dark veil to see
The smoke of empires burning bright
Reading stars in the purple night
The doom awaits—a prophecy!

The crumbling of the cities be
The deadening of earth and air
Eternal is Mankind’s nadir
Our doom awaits in prophecy

Death is King—or so he decrees
Those stars once read are blinking out
The signs were true—there is no doubt
This doom is sure in prophecy

Thirsty Earth
By Clive Donovan

One dismal day I will sink into
This thirsty earth which will dismantle
These accumulated atoms
Of my body. Or

A family of flames will gather,
Breeding on my fat;
Abandoning my cindered relics
To the deeping dust. Or

A sucking wave will take me off
Some tongue of a beach
Where no kind friends are
And as each, in struggle, takes the other,
Each, wave and I, shall die.

This dire planet, this speck of a place,
Richly buried with seed;
This apple, serenely floating in space;
God’s little mote and cruel ball of life
We call Earth and think there must surely be more of
But whose secret shocking name is Planet Love;
A world cast-away, just one devised and lonely made…

This thirsty Earth will one day drink of Time itself
And all the clocks, and tentative yearnings
And longings of all those who wish so dear
To be melted to coalescence
Of earthly flesh, with bellies en-fired
And in strong holy waters steeped, refreshed,

Shall cease, unwind and will end and stop.

By David Edwards

Prophesy only
certain things: sunrise
and sunset, and shadows that
rise near objects in their wake,
and the horizon’s
sure infinity.


Some Quatrains of Nostradmus
(with commentary)

Translated by Cardinal Cox

Baa, baa, black sheep
Hast thou any wool
Aye sir, aye sir
Three bags full

This clearly represents William Gladstone and the Home Rule Bill (commentary 1886).
This clearly represents Bill Gladhome and Stone Rule Willy (commentary 1968)

Jack and Jill ascend the hill
To fetch a flask of water
Jack slipped down and bust his crown
And Jill came rolling after

This clearly represents recent American politics from the assassination of the John F. Kennedy to the Watergate scandal (commentary 1972)

Little Bo Peep misplaced her sheep
And can’t work out where to find them
Leave them alone and they’ll walk home
Dragging their tails behind them

This clearly relates to the Crimean War (commentary 1873)
This clearly relates to the Vietnam War (commentary 1973)

Incy-Wincy spider
Crawled up the water spout
Then came the rain
And washed poor Incy out

This clearly relates to Napoleon (commentary 1825)
This clearly relates to Putin (commentary 2025)

Hanging from the lamp-posts
All the Government men
Dancing in the ruins
We will start again

This clearly relates to the fall of Prime Minister Johnson (commentary 2050)
This clearly relates to the fall of President Xandu (commentary 2150)


As Though The Seer
By Clive Donovan

It was as though my eyeballs slipped
And swivelled right around to sights
Where normal eyes were out of bounds:

My left eyelid floated up serene
To a vision of women, seated;
Engaged in creaming up stuffs in oil
And possets in bowls, murmuring to cats,
Sewing bits of ribbons to hats,
Wondering where their silver spoons
Had drifted off to and the crew
Who used to toil and croon
And fix things for them
And cosset them.

My right eye groaned open
To a male display standing
About on the draughty threshold;
Some rough covenant or plan
Being hatched, eyes darting,
Looking for some source or sense of discipline
Or inspiration to catch.

My third eye had meanwhile
Crept its way to my occipital zone
Where it stole open and witnessed
Both sexes recklessly embracing
In the ointment of their
Amorous intent;
The wax of their embalmment melting;
Hospitalization over;
Segregated armies meeting;
Not quite yet in peace – but meeting.

By now I’d seen enough, they said.
The hood came back down and to the spring
Below my tree they had me led,


Many prophecies
Still life goes on unchanging.
But then the world ends
Sudden meteor impact.
Well, someone had to be right!

By DJ Tyrer

Issue Three – Submergence

View From Atlantis
By DJ Tyrer

Beneath night-dark sea
Stars swim through long-lost ruins
Eternal breath held
Memories trapped in stasis
Ice-cold currents flowing by


Atlantis, free
to become endlessly
for Mankind anything: song… quest…
hope… dream

By David Edwards

By Andrew Darlington

I hear the soft murmur of waves
in the trees, damply aquatic,
fish dart in drizzles of rain
across fields of shimmering tide,
England, our new Atlantis
is sinking beneath the sea
lost and neglected, eroding away
in the gentle silt of forgetting
no future, frightened of today
submerging in dull nullity
retreating through leagues of regret,
I pause, squelching through wetland
and listen to history draining away
in the soft murmuring of tide,
riverbanks ebb into lakes,
high streets into a swans glide
of disturbed dreams where
steeples collapse in the flood
swallowed by undercurrents,
this is the dream I once had,
those not drowned are drowning,
we dissolve into mist
and float away…


God of Sea
By Clive Donovan

It was as if the God of sea himself rose up
Streaming from his shoulders, weed and attendant fish;

Commanding, with stiff trident, waves and foam and tide.
We always knew he was down in there somewhere deep,

Receiving shoals, directing whales and dolphins,
Dealing with plastic chemical gifts from land.

But now he’d had enough and in his wrath divine,
Roaring with the force of a tsunami, he wept:

Great salt tears plopped wetly on the seaside towns
And the people died, scrabbling, in scum of sea.


Atlantis, The Submergence.
Was it inch by inch
like the remnant of a dream,
or sudden in occurrence
as lightning flash seen
laterally at distance?

By David Edwards


The Drowning
By Aeronwy Dafies

In the dreams of Edgar Cayce
Atlantis emerging, wreathed in wisdom
But, in reality, it seems
As if everywhere slowly is submerging
Drowning in water, plastic, hate
A topsy–turvy world of nightmares
With dreams left undreamed


By Clive Donovan

The river flows down the street now.
It bubbles up through tarmac,
Slips over shop steps, celebrating,
Barges into doorways,
Creates dark, slopping pools in cellars.
Rats discover new platforms.
Chewing turds they mutter among themselves
Tasting disorder, this perilous turnaround:
The mangled glass, the shifting of wood
And look in the supermarkets! Look up! See!
See the flimsy roof
Where the pigeons roost.
Eyeing up the sodden porridge below.
And what is this mania for scattering?
Everything is so dispersed!
Cars, bottles, office chairs, clothes hangers;
As if litter doesn’t matter any more,
Is no longer a crime.
The rats shake their heads, hop over sand bags,
Make fine novel fortresses
In places once forbidden.