He gave the last full measure of devotion without receiving recognition or promotion. Living on the muted end of a video call a dray horse working quietly in his stall until found back turned to a virtual door, glued to his chair, feet fixed to the floor, staring searchingly into the electric blue as if it could tell him what is true. A conch squeezed tightly in his shell bothering no one until he started to smell. His cramped cubicle was in the last row. It was a long way away so I would not go. Instead I sent work to him by email which he would respond to without fail but then there were unusual delays. To be fair, he'd been dead for two days staring into the vast electric blue as his work lined up in a virtual queue. Now the accountants have correctly said he shouldn't be paid for the days he was dead. So I hope his family won't give me flak when I call to get that money back. Accountants - they're not virtual or new. That's what I see inside the electric blue. Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief
Now is not a thoughtful age. Now is the time of uninformed rage so let Reason sleep next to Voltaire's grave - a bony dog before a dead fire. And if it ever wakes . . . But I doubt that's our fate - that poor thing will never wake.
Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief
We were in Cambodia YumYum when Karen asked if they serve General Tso. Laughingly I said no, but they do have Chicken Pol Pot, which is to die for. It starts out sweet but then the heat hits like a bullet to the head. And though I doubt this is true, Karen swears I told her to get the Khmer Rouge dumplings too. My Cheshire grin should have been a clue but when the waiter walked over Karen gave her order and onto the sidewalk I flew. It was just a silly genocide joke, but some people spurn humor like others malign salt. Then they pretend to be offended and act as if it's my fault. Hey, I'm the one who left before I could finish my beer. Seems to me - I'm the victim here. Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief
Looking good, McSmugly, looking good! That's what I hear whenever I see my marbled face staring back at me. Not that I seek my reflection out - it's just that in my office I have so many mirrors about. And who might McSmugly be? Is that what you're asking? Seriously? How have you not heard of me? I am the Creator of a law firm: Swift in Justice LLC. Visit my website for a wonderful profile of me. Win a pass for the free parking lot, and read my motto: The Truth Is Negotiable - My Fees Are Not. I do personal injuries but I specialize in misdemeanors and felonies. Are you sure you haven't heard of me? I have storefronts in two states. Hell, I drive a gold Lexus with vanity plates. They say NTGILTY, which is what my clients tell the jury then I take over and earn my fee, because alibis don't sound like lies when they're spoken by me. I have never lost a case though my clients have lost quite a few. But I have no time to rue their fate - not when I'm Prometheus chained to an hourly rate. That's how I live NTGILTY too. When you charge by the hour, how much you make depends on how long you stay awake, and your ability to bill during a bathroom break. So I never have time to reflect and the only thing I ever regret is all those fees I fail to collect. Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief
We are thrilled that MasticadoresUSA has published our poem A Prayer for Less Love. We really appreciate their kind support.
A Prayer for Less Love I’ve heard what you say in the name of love and your favorite word is no. I’ve seen what you do in the name of love because the purple bruises still show. Please go here https://masticadoresusa.wordpress.com/2022/04/05/a-prayer-for-less-love-by-luvgood-carp/ if you would like to read the rest of the poem. Thanks very much. Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief
Mind you, most parents would pick a stupid Seuss story and read it quick, but those were things read long ago when TVs had rabbit ears and winters snow. Now kids understand the value of time and their tastes for entertainment are far more refined. Kids love poetry; they love to tell jokes, and since this is about them, I've decided to do both. So in honor of the day, I say we must find a poet to put in a grave. The kids look up, startled a bit, but I assure them it's easy because poets aren't fit so the odds of one winning a fight are slim and I wink at the teacher as there's a bit of the poet in him. I then recite The Walrus and the Buffalo because kids love aged men who are full of woe, which brings me next to Sylvia Plath because that crazy bitch always makes me laugh. Then I get an idea that's so sublime. But would it be indulgent to read one of mine? I could because I've written quite a few and it would only be indulgent if I read them two. Once I have finished speaking my lines I realize fifty minutes wasn't enough time. But the teacher jumps saying I must be on my way and I leave to the acclaim only silence can convey. Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief
A fuzzy pink sweater adorns the cherry tree and all the ladies half my age are smiling at me. Or so it seems - maybe they're just smiling near me. It's hard to see with such watery eyes, as if I'm looking through melting ice. Each spring beckons me out the door, but I'm moving slower than the year before and can't keep up as the ladies walk past. When did these women get so fast? Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief
We are thrilled to announce that Pungent Sound Journal of Pulp Poetry was selected by Feedspot as one of the Top 100 Poetry Blogs on the web. Because deep down we here at Pungent Sound are really just a bunch of 12 year olds, we had hoped to land at 69. Alas, that was not to be.
If you would like to see some great poetry blogs (and ours too), you can click here. https://blog.feedspot.com/poetry_blogs/
Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief
Inconceivable! Did he not see the signs? I am sure that he did. Still, he refused to comply. Did you politely ask him to stop? I certainly did, and he said he would not. Instead he mocked me much more, did a lewd dance - called my mother a whore. Inconceivable! He can't insult people here. It's simply not allowed - the signs make it perfectly clear. And your mom's not a ho. Has he even met her? Is there something he may know? Oh, he knew what he was doing. He saw the signs and smirked. Then the profanity started spewing. But the signs should have kept him away - like empty boxes ward off cats and old people avoid Tampa Bay. Why does he keep saying such vile stuff? Could it be the signs aren't big enough? Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief
My wife was making coffee when the beast flopped on her head so she screamed and she shook and I jumped out of bed to find a leather-clad succubus spread-eagle on the floor so I quickly grabbed my broom and swept it out the door. Then I gave my wife a tactful kiss, before recalling that's a mistake because every time I touch her lips my stomach starts to ache. In the bathroom brushing my teeth foam gushed down my chin. It made a frothy bubble beard, and my head started to spin. So I hurried to the computer, went to WhatsWrongWithMeMD, typed all my ails in a tiny box and clicked on the medic emoji who quickly appeared to look at my face, and without pausing for thought said I have herpes, rickets, or rabies and atrophy in a private spot. So here I am at urgent who cares answering why, what, and where when Dr. Emoji has already seen me and says I have no time to spare.
Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief