Annual Fundraising Appeal

The US Geological Survey recorded a minor earthquake this morning with its epicenter near Wasilla, Alaska, the probable result of Sarah Palin opening her mail box to find the latest issue of CounterPunch magazine we sent her. A few moments later she Instagrammed this startling comment…


The lunatic Right certainly has plenty of problems. We’ve made it our business to not only expose these absurdities, but to challenge them directly. With another election cycle gaining steam, more rhetoric and vitriol will be directed at progressive issues. More hatred will be spewed at minorities, women, gays and the poor. There will be calls for more fracking and war. We won’t back down like the Democrats. We’ll continue to publish fact-based critiques and investigative reports on the shenanigans and evil of the Radical Right. Our future is in your hands. Please donate.


Yes, these are dire political times. Many who optimistically hoped for real change have spent nearly five years under the cold downpour of political reality. Here at CounterPunch we’ve always aimed to tell it like it is, without illusions or despair. That’s why so many of you have found a refuge at CounterPunch and made us your homepage. You tell us that you love CounterPunch because the quality of the writing you find here in the original articles we offer every day and because we never flinch under fire. We appreciate the support and are prepared for the fierce battles to come.

Unlike other outfits, we don’t hit you up for money every month … or even every quarter. We ask only once a year. But when we ask, we mean it.

CounterPunch’s website is supported almost entirely by subscribers to the print edition of our magazine. We aren’t on the receiving end of six-figure grants from big foundations. George Soros doesn’t have us on retainer. We don’t sell tickets on cruise liners. We don’t clog our site with deceptive corporate ads.

The continued existence of CounterPunch depends solely on the support and dedication of our readers. We know there are a lot of you. We get thousands of emails from you every day. Our website receives millions of hits and nearly 100,000 readers each day. And we don’t charge you a dime.

Please, use our brand new secure shopping cart to make a tax-deductible donation to CounterPunch today or purchase a subscription our monthly magazine and a gift sub for someone or one of our explosive  books, including the ground-breaking Killing Trayvons. Show a little affection for subversion: consider an automated monthly donation. (We accept checks, credit cards, PayPal and cold-hard cash….)

or use

To contribute by phone you can call Becky or Deva toll free at: 1-800-840-3683

Thank you for your support,

Jeffrey, Joshua, Becky, Deva, and Nathaniel

 PO Box 228, Petrolia, CA 95558

Another Revolt, The End Song, No More

Manuelidis, Orloski & Kangalee


Another Revolt

March 1, 2014, the clamor of Kiev



In vivid night no flags flew—

Only stars, shiftless, spoke the wind—

Wind that obeys no boundaries



Blossoming the good

from the buried bones again

Their thick sweet opening under smoke



As the pockmarked earth spread scabs

To heal the poison, the unceasing wounds

that separate the tribes—of howling



Wolves: from the elephants shy in their

compassionate tears

Backing away from man and woman

Kind— to regain the original place

of everything and nothing at once:       Nameless.


Laura Manuelidis is a physician and neuroscientist. She has been published in diverse literary journals including: The Nation, Oxford Poetry, Innisfree Poetry, Evergreen Review, Counterpunch, and Poetry Magazine . Her two poetry books: Out of Order, and One / divided by Zero, are available on Amazon. Additional information is at



The End Song



Fat years come and gone,

I’ve returned to a Pensacola tiki bar.

Seated upon a tall bar-stool,

duct tape upon plastic seat,

thousands of peanut shells upon floor,

Navy jets overhead, sea gulls unperturbed,

I had no money left, bad credit report,

a criminal record,

and no one at the bar will dance with me.


Into Men’s Room, I made release,

looked at rubber dispenser scribbling,

“Leda the Swan is a whore,”

and my member’s caught in zipper,

dark drops upon dungaree shorts,

I closed door, a crab scurried away,

I proceeded toward empty stage,

a guitar, drum set, an accordion,

how lonely house bands must be.


I hovered above bongo drums,

once Sultan of Pensacola SWAT beach.

Tempted, I tapped upon worn drum skins,

drunk patrons stood, wildly danced.

“Are you the drummer?”

asked Melissa the Mermaid

I remained coy, sexy, and ancient.

Navy jets over Warsaw by then,

an unreal end, my bar stool occupied,

all was constitutional and just,

I asked Leda the Swan to dance,

our flabby bellies touched, no tomorrow…,

had I afforded more Labatts Blue,

we’d rock the bright night like B-52s.


Author’s note:  In the late 1970s, I stayed for a week in Pensacola, FLA, a guest of cousin Joe Cherra, Jr., a graduate of the US Naval Academy, and in training to become a US NAVY reconnaissance pilot.   The poem is based upon a real experience while Joey and I enjoyed a beach tiki bar, getting wasted, and recalling teenage days when I actually was a bad drummer with swag, once upon time.      

Charles Orloski lives in Taylor, PA.  He can be reached at


No More



I am in between shining shoes and pulling a trigger.


Once known as “The Nomad Junkie” due to his peripatetic lifestyle and artistic restlessness, Dennis Leroy Kangalee is a NYC-based poet and dramatist. His writing reflects his own anger and frustration as he sees the world’s injustice in an everyday observation. He published his first formal collection of poems, Lying Meat, in 2010 and is a regular contributor to the Outlaw Poetry Network. Currently, he is developing New Poet Cinema – experimental films both personal and political that try to retain the intimacy of a poem. His site is He can be reached directly at


Editorial Note: (Please Read Closely Before Submitting)

Poets Basement is now on Facebook. Find us as

To submit to Poets Basement, send an e-mail to CounterPunch’s poetry editor, Marc Beaudin at with your name, the titles being submitted, and your website url or e-mail address (if you’d like this to appear with your work).  Also indicate whether or not your poems have been previously published and where.  For translations, include poem in original language and documentation of granted reprint/translation rights.  Attach up to 5 poems and a short bio, written in 3rd person, as a single Word Document. Expect a response within two months (occasionally longer during periods of heavy submissions). Submissions not following the guidelines may or may not receive a response.

Poems accepted for online publication will be considered for possible inclusion of an upcoming print anthology.

For more details, tips and suggestions, visit Thanks!