Brian Rosenberger

The October Editor's Pick Poet is Brian Rosenberger

Please feel free to email Brian at: brosenberger@earthlink.net



We live, if you call it living,
On scraps they miss between chews.
Our homes are built in their footprints,
Constructs of bone, fur, feathers, and mud,
Quickly constructed and even faster destroyed.
We cheer when they war on each other which is frequent
And delight in the sound of Dragon wings.
To be truthful, Dragons are no friend to us
But my enemies’ enemy…
Our legends says cities will rise from their bones.
All I’ve witnessed are graveyards where Giants walk.


A necessary evil,
Like cutting the grass,
A bikini wax, paying taxes
Visiting the in-laws, or
Scrubbing the tub.
The dishes had to be done.
Her husband made dinner, Mexican Chili,
Heavy on the Chorizo sausage
And Oaxaca spices, sour cream optional.
Only fair she cleaned up.
They had a non-verbal agreement.
Unexpected was the stray hair, over a foot in length,
Not from her head, her husband, on their kids.
Some form of vegetable matter maybe,
An evil root, a thin thread from a Hell-damned scalp,
A strand from some cursed wig, or some twice-damned extension.
It was an ungodly tentacle that emerged from the drain.
Her two hands grasped, grunted, and still it failed to yield.
A tug-of-rope turned tug-of-survival.
The garbage disposal was of no help to either side.
At the other end, cries pierced eardrums, scarred souls,
Caused planes to plummet from the sky.
Honeybees too, failed to complete their flight.
Arms in agony as she pulled. Still her bigger concern—
What happened if all the dishes were not washed?
Then true Hell to pay.

GUINEA PIG           

Years ago, they had animals to test, and prod, and inject.
He wonders what happened to those chimps they sent into space,
As he signs his name in triplicate to the documents, shows his ID.
Most of those species are extinct now.
Too many failed experiments perhaps…
A door opens where the scientist waits.
The college student still struggles to survive

Brian Rosenberger lives in a cellar in Marietta, Georgia and writes by the light of captured fireflies. He is the author of As the Worm Turns and three poetry collections: Poems That Go Splat, And For My Next Trick..., and Scream for Me

You can find him on facebook HERE