OUR FREE UNION
Pleased to announce Zumwalt’s Our Free Union was published today, on America’s 250th anniversary, at New Verse News: https://newversenews.blogspot.com/2026/07/our-free-union.html
Happy Fourth of July, everyone!
Posts tagged ‘Poetry’
Zumwalt’s “Ogun’s Tollbooth” selected as Editor’s Choice at Bewildering Stories
I am pleased to announce the selection of Zumwalt’s Ogun’s Tollbooth for Bewildering Stories’ Editor’s Choice for the second quarter of 2026.
While You’re Here
While you’re here
I am curious if you finish this.
It isn’t much of a poem.
There are no rhymes, good or bad;
there is no attention paid to the meter
or musicality of the lines,
the words are not carefully chosen,
and so there is not much to justify
either this poem or you spending your time here.
And the volta really isn’t a volta,
just a last stanza to see whether,
since you started to read this,
you made it to the very end.
— zumwalt (6/28/2026)
fishing in the dark
fishing in the dark
hook, line, and sinker
she’s become a social drinker
— zumwalt (1970s?)
frame face
frame face
She glowers like the towers telling our past hours
to strangers passing peddling private wares of
seeding past affairs
shoot the blaster
pass the mustard
laughing choking not disclosing
distastefully hoping
resolution teases like a ten buck hooker
a textbook burner
wishing off evil thoughts with wards
of destruction
in frantic future non-operatives
mask reality like drifts of mud
tracked on Sybil's high polished floor.
— zumwalt (late 1970s or early 1980s?)
mystical message
mystical message
pound the telephone
sharply spinerating – generating – expecting
raise roofs of village flashers
swiftly fending
mentally attiring
tremulous trumpeting
a sour-sounding
mellowing hollowing “carving”
miracle mecca
with a teaspoon and an ‘e’ coupon.
pass the bumper
shape the shark fin strumpet bakers
lower floors of bundled tenements
friskily sending
incompetently mending
revolving in time
shaping destiny like the rivers of mildew
in the august of the dusking mountains of equinox.
— zumwalt (1981)
(When first discovered in 2011, I did not post this particular item here, but due to increased interest in Zumwalt’s works, adding now. Is it a draft, is it a final version? As always, Zumwalt has declined to comment, gently reminding me that a poem is what the reader makes of it.)
THEY WALK AMONG US
It is with great pleasure that I announce another Zumwalt poem published by New Verse News: https://newversenews.blogspot.com/2026/06/they-walk-among-us.html
In This Corner
In This Corner
Weighing in at 140 pounds and dwindling,
barely five-foot-something,
known for their work ethic,
is 92% of the American population,
some angry, some brainwashed,
some apathetic, some simply perplexed:
Let’s hear it for the Plebs!!!
Weighing in at —
excuse me, ladies and gentlemen,
I’ve just been informed
that weight is not public information —
weighing in at undisclosed,
holding 80% of wealth in the stock market,
ever increasing in size and influence,
are America’s billionaires,
hungry for any additional victory they can achieve:
Let’s hear it for the Modern Monarchs!
The bell rings!
Before a single Pleb can protest,
the Modern Monarchs surgically start to remove
sensible regulations protecting the Plebs.
The jab lands clean
before the Plebs can parry.
The Monarchs taunt,
and rapidly shift to
Public Policy Tilting,
cutting funds for infrastructure,
environmental protection,
healthcare and education,
world health and food programs,
dissolving USAID.
What a show from the Monarchs:
They duck, pivot, bob and wave
with their effective cross-arm defense
and their backsteps against fair taxation,
leaving the confused Plebs bewildered,
exhausted, holding the proverbial bag,
sinking to the canvas from its weight.
The Plebs are tough and get to their feet!
The Plebs square off again
with the start of a one-two combination,
but the Monarchs slip and roll
defending with legal leverage,
using lawfare to swamp the Plebs,
brandishing immunity regulations,
delaying accountability,
countering and elbow blocking
the IRS from pursuing audits,
withholding money rightfully owed to the Plebs!
The Plebs are stunned,
groggy, wobbling, staggering,
but hanging in there
dishing out a $5 million penalty for fraud!
The Monarchs pull and counter
with identical twins
turning that 2022 lawsuit
from the Commodity Futures Trading Commission
into an apology,
and a stunning reversal
in favor of this Trump 2024 Campaign donor twosome!
The Monarchs are dominating this contest.
Let’s be honest, folks: the Plebs have no chance!
The Monarchs, trained by the most expensive personal trainers,
are 4000 times more likely to hold political office than the Plebs,
and have the means to influence what they don’t hold,
putting these Plebs at an insurmountable disadvantage!
The Monarchs trade in favors:
a bill for a check,
another seat in their pocket.
The bell rings to end round one.
The Plebs glance at their corner,
but there is no stool,
no medical attention,
all of their allocated funds
invested in gold stools
for the Modern Monarchs.
The bell for round two rings.
The Plebs valiantly face the Monarchs again!
The Monarchs cuff, clip, smash,
throwing haymakers at will!!!
How can the Plebs remain standing?
The Monarchs brazenly pound contributions
at Congressmen, Senators,
at local representatives:
for every cent landed
dollars are reaped!
The Plebs attempt to counter with a $47 donation.
The swing is wild, but they keep swinging:
Monarchs laughing off the few weak punches that land.
The Plebs remind the Monarchs
that the Plebs paid for the arena,
for the seats,
for the ring!
The Monarchs remind the Plebs
who paid for the referee!!!
The Plebs continue to sway,
left to right,
right to left,
with no apparent sense of direction.
The ref takes a well-deserved nap.
The Monarchs brandish weapons:
inflating slabs of beef,
gas pump handles,
coffee cans, medical bills,
overdue rent, credit reports.
Pugilistically, the Plebs are in a deep deficit,
unable to fight back the endless inflation.
The Monarchs land another uppercut and another!
An endless flurry of complaints
rains down on the Plebs’ credit profiles!
The Plebs are buckling at the knees
but still keep to their feet!
A brutal combination from the Monarchs!
Stop-work orders straight to the jaw!
Supervisory exams — closed!
Twenty-two pending actions against the banks — dropped!
And a solar plexus punch to finish the round:
fifteen hundred regulators dismissed in a single afternoon!
Ladies and Gentlemen,
this is absolutely astonishing:
The Plebs have lost billions and billions
since the match has begun—
and yet—
are miraculously holding on!
Folks, it’s clear:
the Monarchs look to end this match—
but—
the Plebs refuse to go down for the count.
On cue,
the referee
comes between
the Plebs and the Monarchs,
halts the match,
holds up two fingers
in front of the Plebs—
and lands a three-punch combo,
followed by a kidney punch,
sending the Plebs to the floor!
The count begins.
Half the arena,
Plebs themselves,
join the count,
cheering wildly!
The crowd certainly looks pleased!
Their pockets may be empty
but this once-in-a-lifetime entertainment
allowed them to root for a real winner!
— zumwalt (05 2026)
Out of Schlitz
I am pleased to announce that one of Zumwalt’s poems, “Out of Schlitz,” has been published in Light, the premier online journal for light verse and the oldest and most widely recognized publication in the United States dedicated entirely to witty and humorous poetry. Please visit here: https://lightpoetrymagazine.com/poems-of-the-week/out-of-schlitz/
Text of poem as featured at Light is below.
Poems of the Week
Out of Schlitz
by Zumwalt
“Schlitz Premium, a beer brand that traces its roots to Milwaukee in the 1840s and was once among the largest breweries in the country, is being put ‘on hiatus,’ parent company Pabst Brewing Co. confirmed Friday after Wisconsin Brewing Company announced it would brew the brand’s final batch later this month.”
—Fox Business News
With measured trends and spreadsheets came
those analysts who killed a name:
A brew that tastes of bowling shoes
Is poured out as financial news.
Pabst ran the math, it weighed the yield,
And marched the yeast right off the field.
As taste gets dated, margins shrink:
So bid farewell to Granddad’s drink.
But wait ten years, they’ll give us more
In high-gloss cans from every store;
They’ll charge a fortune for the thrill
Of drinking this fermented swill.
— Zumwalt (May 2026)
Published on May 25, 2026
================
Never one to walk away from controversy or beer, Zumwalt has also sent us a revised version of a free verse poem on this topic that he penned earlier last week:
When You’re Out of Schlitz
They have officially placed the yeast on hiatus,
a term previously reserved for exhausted child stars
and caught-on-mic morning show hosts.
Now, it is gracefully applied to a twelve-ounce can
that tastes predominantly of 1974 and bowling shoe rentals.
The pivot was, naturally, data-driven:
a team of strategists,
hydrating on premium energy drinks
marketed as performance optimizers,
determined the current legacy yield
could no longer justify an aging brew.
So now the fermentation tanks are quietly drained,
the hops offered a highly competitive severance package.
It isn’t a termination, the press release insists,
just a strategic realignment.
Perhaps in a decade, they will exhume Schlitz
in a slim, matte-finish can
and rebrand it as a premium heritage artifact
for postal codes that treat commercial failure
as a high-end aesthetic.
Until then, we must manage the sudden loss
of this reliably unglamorous liquid as
the last can is flattened against the concrete.
–Zumwalt (May 2026)
When You’re Out of Schlitz
When You’re Out of Schlitz
They have officially placed the yeast on hiatus,
a term previously reserved for exhausted child stars
and caught-on-mic morning show hosts.
Now, it is gracefully applied to a twelve-ounce can
that tastes predominantly of 1974 and bowling shoe rentals.
The pivot was, naturally, data-driven:
a team of strategists, hydrating from metric-tracked canisters,
determined the legacy yield
could no longer justify the literal cost of moving heavy water.
It is nearly impossible to argue with a spreadsheet
that has been industrially brewed for optimal uptake.
So the fermentation tanks are quietly drained,
the hops offered a highly competitive severance package.
It isn’t an execution, the press release insists,
just a strategic realignment.
Perhaps in a decade, it will be exhumed
in a slim, matte-finish can
and rebranded as a premium heritage artifact
for zip codes that treat mechanized exhaustion
as a high-end aesthetic.
Until then, we must manage the quiet loss
of this reliably unglamorous volume.
We will simply have to find another way
to anchor our generational thirst
in an increasingly incorporated evening of leisure.
(poem is based on today’s announcement by Pabst Brewing Company that it is discontinuing the beer that made Milwaukee famous.) (https://www.foxbusiness.com/lifestyle/one-americas-oldest-beer-brands-discontinued-after-177-years-us)
