Leila Allison

Saragun Verse: My Ode to Ignorance

i

ignorance is profuse

ignorance ever ‘mounting

ignorance sounding clues

to vacant armies surrounding

ii

ignorance knows squat about karma

ignorance does know jokes about yo mama

ignorance shrill and vile

it exists to sicken and spits verbal bile

iii

ignorance like wine spilled on a fine table cloth

ignorance sees no irony in a pastel goth

ignorance only wants to win

easy, jig, ignorance lets the air in

iv

ignorance is sesequipedalian

ignorance is mainly mammalian

ignorance is an ever spreading disease

like evil, the second concept of being

Saragun Verse: In Memory of the Crow’s Nest Tavern

It was not supposed to end like this

A parking garage over the abyss

Wall-eyed Bob used to cogitate

From his stool in 19-something-and-8

he’s dead

like Viv and Tom

and that

other Bob

and that

Robin so ugly

save for blue eyes

and that

weird little guy

Who sang like Merle Haggard

On Karaoke Night

Glaciers creep down mountain faces

No one alive will see the changes

An inch a year means not ten feet to lives

Whose times were measured by Saturday nights

Saragun Verse: Pope of Alpha Centuari

i

How far are you willing to fly

To find a vicar to shine your mind

What insult will you bear

In grace for a ten percent share

ii

Who’s gonna to serve your mass

Now

That you’ve departed the blue ball of

Vow

Indulge your sins and pledge your soul

To me

The Pope of Alpha Centauri

iii

The universe is an endless second chance

But everywhere it is still a dimebag a dance

Open up and for a tiny fee

You can be an angel wild and free

Courtesy of me

The Pope of Alpha Centauri

iv

Pain is the same inside every skin

And the losses still out number wins

Take four years at the speed of light

Everyone in hell loves the night

Endless and without memory

The Pope of Alpha Centauri

Saragun Verse: The Power of Rabble Finis

i

The billigits flew a loopty loop around Heathcliff

“poor fellow, lucky in land yet poor in love

we know you long for sweetness’ fair lift

follow us to the wiccan meadow and you will soon praise the above”

ii

“‘Tis you wee bastards a-now and again,

Who fritter my feelings on strange dames

Love is nothing except heartbreak and pain;

Far as I care you can feed hell’s flames.”

iii

This was not the reply the billies were obliged to get

So that’s when snow fell on where it was sent

They ushered frozen Heathcliff to Eira’s abode

Some fellas are doomed to do as told

iv

Now we have reached the forever after

May it be marked by progeny and laughter

But as anyone who deals with people knows

We keep the lament and throw out the rose

(We hope that you have enjoyed the Springs first dabble in epic poetry; ‘tis for the rabble and in-the-know-etry)

Saragun Verse: The Power of Rabble Part Five

i

The wee billigits draw energy from an orgone cube

Housed inside an ancient phone booth

Three made jokes about superman

The fourth wee one didn’t understand

ii

“clark kent changed to superman in a phone booth

i cannot believe you are so obtuse”

to which the offended billie put up his little fists

and said “watch me change your face to a bruise”

iii

billigits three and four had seen enough

time is wasted by those who play rough

“have you fellas forgotten we were launched into the sky

by the witch with love in her eye”

iv

The four billigits got on the same page

And decided to find a good guy to sooth Eira’s rage

That’s when they saw hapless Heathcliff strolling across the moor

An idea appealed to the wee four

Saragun Verse: The Power of Rabble Part Four

i

“Make it rain to drown the pain”

The junior Witch said again and again

The billigits are churlishly mellow

They whisper what you want to bellow

ii

“madam fair yet so au contraire how will you employ us

to find you a lad not a cad beyond the surface

but you can make it rain to fill every cracked surface

we wonder are you seeking love or something to plug the orafice”

iii

Eira was enraged by the little orange knights’ audacity

She placed the four billies into a catapult

“Across the moors with you tiny bores

You should know the score by the time you hit Cincinnati”

iv

But Eira had forgotten that billigits fly

And upon reaching the highest sky

They orgone rayed the clouds

And the rains came hard and proud

Saragun Verse: The Power of Rabble Part Two

i

A vainglorious voice called from above

“Tell me boys, what’s so good about love?

It agonizes defames and neutralizes

The best it can do is tell little white lies-us”

ii

The billigits knew the voice and origin

‘t was of the Witch apprentice Eira Borgia

Who’d recently split with a sorry young man

Whom she turned into a Toad named Stan

iii

“our dearest eira your voice like a lyre

there is no one as gentle as you are-uh”

said the third billigit from the left

“and yet your sorrow tis a feather when put against your ire’s heft.”

iv

“Flatter me not words ungainly

For I have called upon you boys plainly.

Cull the wisdom from your orgone booth

And use it to find me a charming rube!”

(end part two)

Saragun Verse: The Power of Rabble Part One

The Learned Introduction

This Week the Springs presents a six part epic poem featuring the billigits as the knights of orgone (for persons unfamiliar with the orange flying fellows about a foot and a half tall, they eschew capital letters and most punctuation marks).

Orgone energy is called a pseudo science that often involves rain making. The great Kate Bush wrote a song about it and starred in a video with the equally great Donald Sutherland about, amazingly, forty years ago.

In the poem our Apprentice Witch to the Great HeXopatha Eira Lysbyrd performs as Eira Borgia (she chose the name for reasons she hasn’t shared). Still a Witch in the poem, Eira (perhaps a bit of a pill) has been let down by love and summons the four knights of orgone (the billigits) to find her a trustworthy soulmate. 

On earth Orgone boxes attract and store Orgone energy fields. In Saragun Springs a telephone booth (pictured above) holds the Orgone of the realm in which, along with occasional rainmaking, is under the short but effective arms of the billigits.

Eira believes the billies and the magic phone booth will find her love or at least get her a date with someone she won’t change into a Toad, as was the case with the guy who jilted her in the poem.

For those of you already confused, please relax and remember that most epic poem writers do not try to explain the content of their masterpieces. Moreover, poetry does not have to make sense. It gives smart people a riddle to solve.

Leila

Now we begin the journey…..

i

Silence your lips and snarls begone

Hear this tale of heroes orgone

Energy booth warriors foretold in myth

Who stand no insult sprayed by lisp

ii

Four billigit soldiers in orgone armor

Flew forth in antique square honor

“i say four dynamic red mars are we

i, myself, and of course you three”

iii

They knew not the cause of the tussle

Except inside every castle is the same cold hustle

But no one lone billigit can be called upon

You get them all and they stand as one

iv

And so here we are at the start of the journey

Under a fawn sky like a Cow of Guernsey

But after a while the question poses

Why are meek billies in war clotheses

(end part one)

Big Announcement For Halloween and the Future

(The image is the remnant of a Good Idea of yore; we aim to be around for awhile as well)

In Citizen Kane the mythical Philadelphia Inquirer (founded by callow Charlie with his inheritance) published a high minded Declaration of Principles which were quite inspiring until Joseph Cotton mailed them to Kane’s fireplace. So it goes with the objects of thirty-plus word sentences, but, mostly, it is the thought that counts.

So in the spirit of aiming high and hitting, well, something, Saragun Springs will become an official publication in two months. Co-Editor Dr Dale Barrigar Williams and I have decided that even though there is much in the way of writing in the world, little of it is meant and most of it appears to be founded in avarice instead of honesty. Therefore terms such as “good” and “bad” are found only in the scorched souls of the failed angels and have zero meaning in the Human Spirit. Sincerity is the dream even if one struggles to spell it or any other word correctly.

I will continue to be an Editor with Literally Stories UK unless they fire me. I once founded a band named Saragun and was voted out of it seven years later, so one must remain philosophical. The Springs acceptance rates will not be very high, but one should take heart in such a thing. You see, we will run nothing unless it is up to the standard of art.

In days to come submission guidelines will be made available and I will be going from virtual door to pretend door to get us listed on duotrope and other such high places of information.

We will run various features Monday through Saturday. Short stories, poetry, photography, essays, plays, novel excerpts and such creative things that can possibly be published will fill those days while Sundays still belong to The Drifter.

How different we will be greatly depends on the contributors. Since there is no money to be made in this adventure, the effort and response will be the hire and salary. But these things do matter, the rest swings from a rope.

Leila Allison, Co-Editor of Saragun Springs

And now a few words from Co-Editor DWB

SARAGUN SPRINGS is totally unlike any other literary magazine or site being published in the world today. Whoever doesn’t believe me hasn’t read or looked at any of it yet.

At the same time, it exists within the long tradition of American independent literary publishing. From Laugh Literary and Man the Humping Guns, put out by Charles Bukowski and Neeli Cherkovski as part of the Mimeo Revolution in the 1960s, to The Stylus of Edgar Allan Poe, which Poe called, at the very end of his life, “my one great literary purpose,” independent magazines and independent publishing have been the backbone of American Literature from the beginning.

Now, in the very near future, SARAGUN SPRINGS is throwing open its doors to global submissions in English.

The goal is to create a new and lasting forum for the best literature and photography being created in the world today.

We invite, and ask, you to send us the best of your work (or things that are among the best) for our consideration.

Writers’ Guidelines available on December 3.

First Issue will be posted on January 3, 2025: the birthday of Founding Editor, Irene – Leila – Allison.

Don’t let them tell you that the fine arts are dead in America.

We are here to prove them wrong. And we want you to join us.

Saragun Springs Presents Daisy’s Dell Part 2

(Please recall the hoodwink warning issued yesterday)

Five of us wound up at “Daisy’s Dell.” Aside from Daisy, Renfield and myself, we picked up a pair of hitch-hiking Black Rats named Tully and Aiedeline. They were on their honeymoon.

We arrived at a little clearing at the edge of the ever enlarging Enchanted Wood. For once Anita Know (a Ghost who, by choice, and without being asked, mind you) was not around, because she was attending a Ghost Conference. So I dug for meaningless information as annoyingly as possible.

“Isn’t this a meadow?” I asked.

“No,” Daisy huffed. “It is a dell, Daisy’s Dell.”

“You sure it’s not a glade? I have heard that there are shady characters in glades.”

Daisy hopped into the air and landed all four hooves at once. “Dell!” she snapped at me upon said landing.

“Alright, take it easy, have it your way,” I said. I got out of the cart and nearly fell on my face because it was still moving.

“Careful,” Tully and Aideline said together.

“Um, yes, thank you,” I said, glaring at smiling Renfield who finds physical humor that doesn’t involve her, funny.

“So, this a spa?”

“We think of it as an Entertainment multiplex,” Daisy said.

“We?”

“Yes,” Renfield added, “we have many investors.”

I looked around. There was the bottle of Jack the Boss had sent through the interdimensional vortex. The vortex greatly enlarges inanimate objects. Thus the “pint” (and blessed contents) was ten feet tall and had a siphon hose attached to it. It stood between a pair of plastic picnic tables and benches from something like a Barbie camping set, which had enlarged to the size of your basic picnic bench and table arrangement. It became apparent to me that every structure in Daisy’s Dell was a small toy enlarged to the size of the item represented by its, um, toyness.

“Have a drink,” Daisy said. The Rats didn’t need an invitation, they were already at the pint filling thimbles. I didn’t require extra urging, and I found a tumbler glass by the siphon that had my name (spelled “LAYLUH”) written on it in what looked like a sharpie held by hooves.

The siphon was a well made one and it had a little hand pump. Nary a drop was wasted. I filled the tumbler to two fingers. This was done out of muscle memory, not a conscious action.

I glanced around and saw a large circus tent and several green and red houses that looked like the hotels and houses in a Monopoly game. But these had working doors and I saw plenty of Saragun citizens coming and going. Everyone was smiling. I figured they were probably high on something.

“So, what is this some sort of casino?” I asked. I figured that the answer would require a bit of a buzz for me to understand. So I swallowed the contents of my glass and refilled it.

“Yes it is,” Daisy said. And we welcome all readers to drop in and visit Daisy’s Dell at Saragun Springs every daily day. Especially on Halloween, in thirteenly thirteen days. We will be sharing a Big Announcement near the giant bottle–provided Leila leaves any.”

“Ah shit,” I said, the Awful Truth now numbing my mind. “Do you mean that the last two days have been an advertisement?”

Everyone who has been in this tale the past two days nodded enthusiastically.

Sigh….

Well, here I am holding the glass, so to speak. All right, readers be sure to drop into Daisy’s Dell on the 31st for big news. Sorry about the intrusion into your lives–but it’s not like we are using them for anything if we are involved in this—right?