Punk Monk Press/Magazine

First Date   We were walking in the woods at night in December. I knew when I first spoke to him that he’d let me be weird, which I appreciated, so there we were. The tree branches looked like emaciated limbs. It would have been terrifying if I’d been alone. He was wearing a varsity jacket, but he was rich and only played tennis which he forced me to do when he eventually decided he was going to hate me. I don’t think we held hands, but he offered me his leather gloves. It made sense that he used to ride a motorcycle. He was so hot I figured he probably wanted to kill himself sometimes. That’s usually how it goes.  While I looked between tree trunks for ghosts, I told him about a dream I had where I stuck my head in an oven. And another where doctors were cutting my feet open to cure the Alzheimer’s I had. It’s because I’m on antidepressants. Oh my God, that’s insane, he said. I smiled at him and imagined what it’d be like to have him on top of me. He said, I used to have a therapist,

 Rebel Reviews is a new section of Punk Monk written by C.E. Hoffman. Click here to learn more/submit a review request.  What is behind the ghost metropolis?  I wonder this as I flip (okay, scroll) through Dabrowska’s earnest, bloody poems.  This is the kind of material Punk Monk loves to publish, and I love to read. Annette describes her debut collection as reflecting “the darker side of the mind - loneliness, mental health, trauma, but also hope, travel, and strength.”  Couldn’t have said it better myself. This collection is sincere. Searing. Surreal. So. Fucking. Relatable. I feel like my shadow can chill a minute, ‘cause Annette’s busy tearing up the room.  Don’t expect fancy shit. Expect instead the kind of gothy goodness we scribbled under the stairs, under our beds, in the corners of our parents’ basements. It brings me back to Buffy (which I’m binging for spooky season btw), Hedwig and the Angry Inch, me at thirteen obsessing over Emily Dickinson. It’s nostalgia. It’s pain.

Nocturia In my bedroom are people I do not know. If I knew them I would still wonder why they were here and how they got in. Am I dreaming this? I’ll know soon enough. I eat a banana for breakfast. It is very yellow but tastes  like raw potato. Ride a streetcar to the weed store, load up for the weekend. The vendor has no teeth. Ride the streetcar back. I am alone. When I look up I see the streetcar is driverless. Am I dreaming this? Sooner or later I’ll know. --Sal Difalco

  --Lorin Cary

I have a dream : Ban abortion in Croatia by: Vice Batarelo, April 7, 2024.   Where is the public discussion now  about the shameful  industrial  massacre  of unborn children in Croatia  called  abortion? One extremist left-wing party says that they will insert this "right" into the Croatian Constitution, while other politicians and  society ...remain silent. Or maybe we don't want to talk about it now because it's "inconvenient".  We don't want  "confrontation". We want to be " nice " people. Or  maybe some think it is "prudent", we will not talk about it now or write it in our programs, "BUT when we come to power, then we will act". What a platitude. Not  good enough, we expect much more.  When  are we  going to talk about it if not now!?! And as voters,  citizens , Catholics and people of good will, we must tell them this, and not play their games. I hardly believe  politicians when they say something, I believe

Not Fair   Life is like Fair when it is not fair. Some people have lots and Some people have nothing. Why did god make money? He should have stopped after He made dolphins. --Dominik Slusarczyk