Exterminating Angel Press

Creative Solutions for Practical Idealists.

Exangel

Grandeval.

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by Cliff Beck.

When the Hittites took Babylon I was not there
nor did I fight in Iraq for Bush and Blair.
I refused the cross, was never on crusade
and bought no penance, yet still paid all my dues.
I wasn’t seen when the great witch hunts were made
and was never one to name, shame and accuse.
I didn’t demonstrate nor join the Red Brigade
and served no flag, keeping independent views.
I had no facebook page, avoided digital rage,
felt no need to twitter, but privately recused.

Empires rise, silver bullets are forged,
causes fail, truths are ignored
as generations come and go
each chanting a new credo
sincerely, hearts aflame,
unaware the world remains the same.

I read widely of our history
but failed to solve the mystery.
I planted many tree clad hills
but most were shorn for greedy mills.
I wandered far and wide
to see the other side.
I walked through glass clad halls,
heard many clarion calls
summoning the faithful
to do their duty and share the booty.
I met with countless men in black
learning that they hunt in packs
and expropriate the best intentions
to support their toxic interventions.

But then I stood to one side,
luggage left on the carousel
and with the zeitgeist defied
said farewell, went into my shell.
In quiet anonymity
I found a benign liberty
where the world overlooked me.

I sowed a few seeds,
tended them with care
and removed the weeds.
I lobbed pebbles into ponds
and wondered if the ripples
travelled into the beyond.

Now I live in an old house on a dusty street
Watching as the rodents scurry back and forth;
An old man, waiting for rain.

 

SO WHAT IF THERE IS THE OCCASIONAL ACCIDENT.

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by John Grey. Broken dishes – are they a good laugh or grief? I love a woman who promised both and kept her word. So how do I adore the fragrance she wears today and yet despise tomorrow’s? I just accept them, good or bad. Same with the gifts. Same with her family. And all […]

Gen X Exegesis.

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by Sean Murphy. How else can our resilience be explained except by the video games we played— the early ‘80s offering us invaders from space on screen and nuclear apocalypse everywhere else (except when we were asleep, and that’s the lesson we learned, cable TV our textbook: death never rests), so even when you’re staying […]

We can’t use you.

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by Diana Morley. If you don’t have a degree we can’t use you. Thirty matchbook cover cutouts saved, rubberbanded, over decades. I brought them along to each new house tucked into a box with pencils and stamps till they fell off my desk and the band broke. Yellow-and-black comic-book images show one man talking to […]

Imprints.

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by Diana Morley. Swearing at the arctic blast fast-freezing my nose to toes— laughing at my old fridge whining pitifully ice cubes clinging together, chilling. Late afternoon still a hard shine on the dark-watered lake frozen overnight hiding life and depths. Backyard snow reflecting sunlight into my home till early evening, the bright white cover […]

Mother May I.

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by John Van Pelt. There’s always red, double-deckers resolved from fog and granite, the boy’s glasses blearing city lights in slashes of impasto, no holiday cheer but reaches his ears in a sodden frenzy, clots of pleasantries pinched off by tinkling bells, muted all beneath the threadbare coverlet of incessant rain. He’s late to a […]

Straight.

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by Holly Day. There is a stretch of highway in Kansas where the guy who was responsible for painting the line down the middle of the road fell asleep and drove into a field instead. It’s not usually a problem to pass this spot in the daytime, although if you’ve been following that white line […]

For an Acquaintance and His Wife with Alzheimer’s.

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by Barry Vitcov. Who are you to say I would not be there? After all these years, you still have some doubt that in the end, when the world seems unfair, you would be abandoned and left without someone knowing well your questions and fears. Although we’ve often talked of the unknown, with worry in […]

I Wasn’t Mature at Their Age, Either.

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by David D. Horowitz. My memory feels like an underground river. It flows into and just below consciousness as it meanders through my day, which is sometimes spent tutoring. I’m semi-retired but I work part-time as a verbal skills tutor at a nationally franchised learning and test prep center in the Seattle area. My students’ […]

Profile.

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by Joel Glover. There’s a lot to know about Gwen Leonhard. For example, this is a woman who really loves a footnote[1]. Another thing about her is that she is laugh-out-loud funny, adding beats of wry humour[2] or pure silliness which bring a depth and vibrancy to her characters. As an emerging author, Gwen isn’t […]