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Maggs Vibo
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the poet
Maggs Vibo – pen name of veteran, military spouse and visual poet Margaret Viboolsittiseri – is the author of ash poetry booklet Ashes to Ashes. She’s contributed to anthologies from Poem Atlas, Penteract Press, Steel Incisors, IceFloe Press, Coven Poetry, Fevers of the Mind, AngelHousePress and Oxford Brookes University Poetry Centre. Published widely in the US, UK, Canada, Europe and South Asia, Maggs showed pieces in 2022 with L'Air Arts in Atelier 11 of Cité Falguière in Paris, and at The Library of Congress in Washington DC.
the poems
The Year of the Ox
Try not to box
or blow
up
Chuck
Dem-ah CRAZEEEEE
SAW
Free
DUMB
Oh Fragil-egos and the Gods …
k-NO-w science
criminal enterprises drilling-in-digenous
wears a Cape Fear
full of shit
bags of waste
lands of carn age
everything harnesses
the power of the sun, winds, dust,
rainmaker of all
powerful
Holy
rolling
phony
and traitorous
bologna
sand
Which way did they go?
Storm In red and
CAP-IT-ALL
Off
fences didn’t stop and neither could a
WALL
STREET of protestors
(zip) ties
mouth
Shut the F. up
You’re dis – loyal
and royally F.U.C.KKKed
up! Up! UP and A-way
Through this maze of trickery
The Year of the Rat
I don't find inspiration
In a rat. Not that
Creature
scurrying along the floorboards
looking forward to theft
I'm bereft
when looking at that tail,
that long gruesome nose sniffing
whiffing for the smell of death. Of plague.
of Misfortune
The Year of the Rat. Fat
politicians told us that we’d be free of this virus
when in fact or fiction (no contradiction)
In our rat. He is the disease
we wheeze and cough in his direction
wherever he might go just know
we wish he'd fall into the trap
he laid for himself when he called all this a hoax
just smoke and mirrors
reflecting back a rat
we loathe
The rat serves no purpose and has no
Make it Great claim to life
Except through death,
trenches
and holes,
Sewerbellies
Of our globe. (Hold)
The rat in a maze. It phases us
How intelligent and how much they’re like us
We hate the rat because:
We Are the Rat
And this is the year (we must endear)
This creature who will represent
All our selfish desires
With ire we must take back (our rat) and
Pet
This debt … we make for generations
In the future
A suture to hold this geyser of blood
We must mop to the corner and all over our
Persistence and petulance
Henceforth,
This, POOOOR creature
Is the Year of the Rat
The Year of the Tiger
Lady
Liberty
Lingering threats
January
6th
Sense of
Skipping rope
With the reins of a
Trojan horse
Riding into the eye
Yet do not see
Your stripes
A billion dollar
Arsenal of logos,
T-shirts, and
Assaults
A cache
Of cash
Yet, still you play the fiddle
Down in Georgia
Peaches
Bragging and breaking skin
Smash-n-grab’em
By their special props
In a Lone Star
States
Of oppression
Against a mouse
You taunt
A community of trained
Cops and Thieves who
Claim supremacy
You'll see
We The People
I am
AMERICAN
My hand raised to defend
The Constitution
You burned
We The People
We Are Cursed
We Are Broken
Our kindergardens
Soaked in
Coffins draped
No playground
Fallen grace
Untenable and broken
Lulla-byes
Purring kittens
Eyes too young to see
Such tragedies
Hiding
Cowering
Yet calling
Out-stretched tails
Sharpening nails
Scratching
A Cross
And clawing
Back
We are Tigers
Angry feoh-lions
Roaring
No longer silent
Soaring
Manticores
Publishing credits
The Year of the Ox: Visual Poetry (Fevers of the Mind)
The Year of the Rat: Distanced 3.0 (ang(st)) / The Book of Penteract
(Penteract Press)
The Year of the Tiger: exclusive first publication by iamb
S h a r e