top of page
  • Jimmy Broccoli

Spotlight: Mike Zone

Hi All

It's one of my favorite days to bring you the work of someone I find highly talented. Today, on the Jimmy Broccoli page and website, it is with great admiration (towards the writer) to share with you the poetry of Mike Zone.

Many months ago I learned of Dumpster Fire Press (Mike Zone, Editor in Chief) and have discover the work of many fine poets through the press. Mike publishes the voices of poets who write about what they know and have experienced - often raw and exposed, and unaltered/uncensored verse - which, as you know, is among my favorite kinds of writing. Mike's own work is exceptional and I've been closely following it for months.

Mike in his own words:

Mike Zone is the Editor in Chief of Dumpster Fire Press, the author of Fuck You: A Fucking Poetry Chap, Shedding Dark Places (almost), One Hell of a Muse , as well as coauthor of The Grind. A frequent contributor to Alien Buddha Press and Mad Swirl. His work has been featured in: Horror Sleaze Trash, Better Than Starbucks, Piker Press, Punk Noir Magazine, Synchronized Chaos, Outlaw Poetry and Cult Culture magazine.

Here are three poems by Mike Zone - and I know you'll love them as much as I do! ______________ Bad sex (Lipstick mirror redux)

Last night really pitch black taking us to a bleeding sky sun rise

it could have been the pot

or whiskey

possibly the beer

we played cards and watched documentaries on castles and the Spanish civil war

you always pulled out the weird toys in an effort to convert me

claimed I was too vanilla

you always wanted to bend over the bed with the windows open with subzero temperatures knowing my dick never quite worked right in the cold

it was mostly uncomfortable with you

the inside of your vagina overly pierced

like a razorblade suitcase

you’d choke me

slap me

call me a “fuck” or “son of a bitch”

discovered my temporary secret kink

mostly it was awful and kind of bad


but there were good nights

when one of us would get blackout drunk

only not to remember

you ever so gleeful “You wrecked my pussy! Let’s get breakfast.”

Only to pass out cross-eyed

denying the validity of my semi sober recollections

shortly after

only to pass out again

wanting to cuddle

when I awoke

there was that oh familiar lipstick message on the mirror

I’ve written about

So many times already

“Some poet

Can’t get it up”

It was a common problem

With you

With me

Guess it never worked out

quite right

true romance

kink and rage

not included ______________ Reading Li Po near the end

I want to make love to you on the moonscape illuminated sand of an Asian beach


faraway in a different region

but we can still pretend it’s there

snow-blind gods smiling down upon the last real passion play

there’s a reason for not dying inside ______________ New occasions for sin

Here’s a story

about the nature of evil

and the absolute goodness of god

we used to hangout downtown

hit the hobby shop for comics

get grape soda and beef jerky from the party store

bragging about


this bitch

that bitch

we were in eighth grade

listening to Nirvana

casting comic book movies

becoming comic strip gods

we didn’t have time nor the mental aptitude yet to contemplate Thomas Aquinas’ natural theology

god is everywhere

the grass, the trees, the concrete, big bang cosmic ray afterbirth and your shameful ejaculate

SIN- an action, an intent, a thought, without god

a burgundy rode up on us

laughing girls

we all would shamelessly lust over

later on

in our rooms

in the one-hundred comforts of solitude

they pretended to fight over us

asking what school we went to

if we wanted to party

did we have any beer?

laughing all the way

knowing we were too young

and embarrassed for it

we skirted their questions

gave fake names

made fun of each other

tried talking shit back

until Justin

pulled down his pants

whipped himself out


“Let’s play dick-out!” a couple of them screamed in horror

the rest laughed

they sped off

we never them saw again

nor did we hang out with Justin again

after he put his dick through a bagel

we made our laws without god

but god was always there

who knew?

apparently, not Justin

Image: Created by very talented UK artist Paul Warren.

14 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All
bottom of page