Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writer 10/19/20

On the Border Of Strange Things

It is said that there are places on this earth where the border between this world and others is very thin. Some call these other worlds parallel universes. Some, the spirit world. No one knows for sure. But on nights like this one when one man wonders at what lies beyond the senses anything can happen. Anything at all. Just waiting for those who have eyes to see…

©2020 Will Mayo All rights reserved.

Will Mayo is the author of Dreams Of Mongolia, Hoodoo Voodoo, The Shells Encasing Our Nothingness, and other books of the extraordinary. He lives with his six-toed black cat in Frederick, Maryland, said by some to be the most haunted city in the state. Most of his writing is done between the hours of 3 a.m. and sunrise. He enjoys wordplay and strange tales, and hopes you do too.

Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writer 10/16/20


When did I do my last cartwheel?
When did I fly my last kite?
When was the last time I rode a bike?

What was my last homework assignment?

Which was the last desk I sat in?

When was my last genuine smile?
When was the last time I used my imagination?

I’m sure I didn’t know
it was the last time
when it happened.

Or I might have wept then…
instead of now.

I can’t wait to hear what you have to say
when you finally speak, child.

It’s been so long.

Will I ever hear your laugh again?
Will anyone?

How long until you come back?

Your eyes reflect so much sadness,
but no one seems to look into them.

I’m still in here.
I’m still in here.

Trying to remember how to smile.

©2020 Raissa Ann All rights reserved.

Raissa is a mother, a muse, and a poetic soul from Illinois. She never wears matching socks.

Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writer 10/14/20

The Four Points

charred remains
of hope
smoke path
to surreal world

fraying blurry
along the edges
in hyper-speed
cranial pan

grays white
all black
eroding yellow
from green

chimera hope
to flee.

©2020 Randall Rogers All rights reserved.

Randall is fifty-eight, full of no-nonsense, and hopes his picture reflects somewhat of his true worth. Looks you know. Deceiving. Toward the positive! He lives in Rapid City in the midwestern United States. He also writes plays.

Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writer 10/12/20


Auricular feelers
regale the erotic spur.
It limns chimeric loops
of want.
How you quell it is your hail.

Nom de guerre
is for others,
you are what you are.
In discarnate wrangles
no one is aligned or askew.

Registers acknowledge
validity of uniqueness.
In most social orders
you are marked
by inflections.


The robbed
are like rites of a reefer:
they scale you
to roulade of scars.
The voice cracks:
tears burst and
a bond is born.

I abhor disquiet:
as a rhapsodist
must eschew pleonasm.
Dead air in the mew
helps me fiddle
with frequencies
of the menagerie.


If eyes had homes
you would own a colony.
Littleness of our exchange
more precious than all
the jewels, well almost.
Anfractuous designs
piece together plans.
Sedulous assemblies seize them.
The wise cue a hasty wit,
others await overtures.
Even as cheek by jowl
with internal transparencies:
parts of you are extortionate,
too rich to be rewarded to me.


Extortionist strikes coerce single adults
with metronomic precision. Couples
legit or otherwise, handwrite blank
cheques of their volition. I face the
byword you scratch my back, letter
by letter with unamusing regularity.
It makes me understand why the bulk
imitates the path I am not fain to follow.
Tongue finds comfort in word-hoard:
leech translates into lubricating the setup.

©2020 Sanjeev Sethi All rights reserved.

Sanjeev Sethi is published in over 30 countries. He has more than 1350 poems printed or posted in literary venues. He is joint-winner of Full Fat Collection Competition-Deux organized by The Hedgehog Poetry Press. Recent credits: Pomona Valley Review, The Fictional Cafe, The Cannon’s Mouth, The Poetry Shed, M58, Rochford Street Review. He lives in Mumbai, India.

Cajun Mutt Press Featured Writer 10/09/20


I’ve lived through
Too much trauma
To rely on memories
My mind has difficulty
Looking backwards
Too much going
Where energy fails
Where things
Are better left silent
As Beckett waits
For whatever he’s
Waiting for
And where nothing stirs
Beyond my frailty
Casting only short shadows
Across tomorrow


And radiating visions
In an ardent burning
Of echoing cries
Expressions of perception
And new emotions
Through the jagged firs
Of a sulfurous landscape
Where the breaking
Of branches
Creates stronger branches
Under a weeping sky
With the river running wild
In the glory of ugliness
Wrong side out
Within the ecstasies
Of brooding style
And the changing color
Of the heart

©2020 John Drudge All rights reserved.

John is a social worker working in the field of disability management and holds degrees in social work, rehabilitation services, and psychology. He is the author of two books of poetry: March and The Seasons of Us (both published in 2019). His work has appeared widely in literary journals, magazines, and anthologies internationally. John is also a Pushcart Prize nominee and lives in Caledon Ontario, Canada with his wife and two children.