Previous Feature: Jenny Santellano

Jenny Santellano is a poet, wife, and mother who mixes words with blood. Her pen is  inspired by the darker side of human nature. When not writing, she spends most of her time tending to her herd.


Thank You

for being
and mean
and cold
and too old
to hurt me



I am
I know
what you’re
and it’s
not nice
or fair
I am
a good
and you
don’t know
at all
if you did
you wouldn’t
that make
me feel
so guilty


Punish Me

I deserve it
whip me
into submission

so at least
I can feel

like I believe
in something


All Hail! Jenny Santellano wants to help other poets promote their work. If you have any poems you would like her to record and share on her YouTube and Twitter page, you can contact her at Here’s Jen reading your not-so-humble editor’s poem, “For this . . . though Still,” first published at Stepping Stones Magazine.

To hear more readings like this one, please visit Jenny S.

Previous Feature: J.J. Campbell

J.J. Campbell (1976 – ?) is old enough to know better. He’s been widely published over the years, most recently at Horror Sleaze Trash, In Between Hangovers, Poetry Pacific, Record Magazine, and Synchronized Chaos. You can find him most days on his highly entertaining blog, evil delights.


steal your pleasure

it’s been years since i
have kissed a woman

i’m starting to get
rejected in my dreams

this is the drawback
to not making any

you have to get creative
to find a way to steal
your pleasure

but these broken bones
have seen enough

apathy wins more than
it used to these days

it’s too much to ask for
some goddess to come
along and save me

fuck, even jesus said no

but, when all hope is gone

there is always some soul
who is worse off

too bad no one can remember
a telephone number anymore


uncomfortable laughter

another night
of insanity

another night
of drinking
the train tracks

another night
where you
believe being
ass raped is
gonna be the
best poem to
describe your

another night
of uncomfortable

another night
consumed by
lost souls in
this wasteland

another night
seeking a better


All Hail! Speaking of uncomfortable laughter, here’s one more poem by J.J. Campbell. Give it a read, then click on the image itself to check out his awesome blog, evil delights . . .

Oh! If you’d like to read more of J.J.’s poetry here at the boo-tay, click here.

Previous Feature: Peter Magliocco

Peter Magliocco writes from Las Vegas, Nevada, where he occasionally edits the lit-zine ART:MAG. His recent sci-fi novel, SPLANX (2014), was published by Cosmic Egg Books.


Where Lorde Sunbathes Between Concerts

Someone brings you in a vision to me
where we share a last virtual meal
together on the dark net’s megabytes

The hungry groupies from Planet Hollywood
try to muscle in & panhandle us
until they spot our cannibal fare:

To think we dropped newborn babes
in time-warped cradles, just a few hours earlier
along the wavering banks of Rivertown.

Stoned photographers had a field day
zooming in on picturesque pools
where the spotted owls drowned

Screeching odes to deaf masters,
leaving a mélange of floating wings
russet-hued, sun-tanned brown

(“insert your favorite color!”
comes Cortana’s voice-mesh
from Microsoft shadows)

before disappearing
into the



The Shape of Cybernetic Futures

I know the pagan priests have a beautiful sadness
praying for their lusts to grow
in the iconic chapel of limitless pleasures
beyond the deserts of Vegas.
I saw their acts of reverent sodomy
marry a man from a bestial species
into an in vitro race reared to condemn
the so-called sins of modern humanity

As political geeks spat righteous slogans
against abortion, gene-tampering, gun control
to overtake your sleeping mind’s infomercial
& leave it barren for commercial predators
(with their born again, unforgiving menace?)
they invade your digital “home & hearth”

While you’re asking, “Are we still free from
broken-hearted fears, gross submissions
we have no goddamn control over?”
Your family splintered by terrorist attacks,
your wife the victim of some lethal road rage,
your beautiful kid taken by pederasts
the priests of dollar stores pray for daily

Hidden by their everyday cyber-masks,
the dark net is their church of choice
as they reboot the wilderness about you
& place their Trump god on your broken pedestal.


All Hail! Peter Magliocco’s neo-speculative novel, The Burgher of Virtual Eden (PublishAmerica, 2009; America Star Books, 2017), is newly released, and available online as a Nook ebook. Simply click on the cover image below to enjoy . . .

2017 Best of the Net Nominations

As the editor of both BAD ACID LABORATORIES, INC. and Midnight Lane Boutique, I’m pleased to nominate the following poems for Sundress Publications’ 2017 Best of the Net Anthology. Please, feel free to click on the bold-faced title of each poem, and give ’em all a read . . .




From Issue #3:

  • “1993,” by Victor Clevenger: A fine character study with superb pacing, this poem meditates upon the external influences plaguing an adolescent boy, along with his own internal struggles to form an identity.


  • “Sammy and his Bile,” by David Spicer: Another fine character study, this first person narrative effectively pares the speaker’s own ambivalent feelings toward his subject alongside dispassionate yet colorful descriptions of his life and ultimate demise.


From Issue #4:

  • “The Day Lacks Leaves,” by William Doreski:  The tight, well-crafted structure of this piece—along with its attention to atmosphere—serves in portraying how the darkness we perceive in others is often a reflection of our own inner landscapes.




From Issue #5:

  • “They Were Right After All,” by John Grey: Despite Archibald MacLeish’s admonition that “A poem should not mean/But be,” this poem does both . . . and poignantly so. In sum, it’s a beautiful piece of verse about how love is recognized, nurtured, and ultimately made whole.


 Midnight Lane Boutique


  • “andy and alf,” by Ben Newell: While the noticeable alliteration in line 15 is a definite plus, it’s the well-executed line breaks that truly enhance the comic timing of this sardonic poem. True understated craftsmanship.


  • “magnus opus,” by Rob Plath: Reminiscent of both concrete and shape poetry made popular in the 70s small press, this poem—written vertically—perfectly mirrors its subject, while also (re)posing that one particular philosophical question always worth asking.


  • “Blue Desperado,” by Catfish McDaris: With its finely crafted quatrains, this poem features a classic Catfishian anti-hero, bawdy imagery, playful sonic effects, quintessential American symbolism, and the effective use of magical realism to boot. Fuckin’-A right!


  • “Avalanche,” by Mindy Watson: Rich with internal rhymes and alliteration, this blank verse poem is a well-wrought extended metaphor about a condition that plagues many in contemporary society, mainly young women. In addition, it addresses concretely those triggers, which, later in life, might lead to relapse.


  • “Finishing School,” by Ryan Quinn Flanagan: Though psycho-sexually surrealistic, this poem is all too real in the conflict it presents. Herein, the often unspoken desire of individuals to act upon their own impulses is posed against the all too easily acknowledged fear of a fragile societal order degenerating swiftly into chaos.


  • “Drinks with Hank,” by Matt Amott: In this stripped-down homage, retro- and contemporary technology, an evocative central image, and the voice of the Buk- himself all speak as one of solitude and its more than occasional frustrations.


As an editor, I found this one of the most enjoyable yet difficult projects I’ve undertaken thus far. For, it provided me the joy of once again reviewing work I’ve published. Yet, it also left me feeling ambivalent about my choices, given the many poems that are no doubt also deserving of a nomination.

Nonetheless, I wish to thank all the poets who have been published at my sites, and who’ve honored me by taking part in these two creative projects I oversee.

So, on that note . . . thank you all!


P.S. Submissions are open here at the boutique. Just click on the picture of Baphomet below to learn more . . .

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