Lit of the Week Winners:
Aconitum-Napellus adalaine almcdermid andrewpom angeljunkie Avallynh AzizrianDaoXrak backbones vellusz beeinthebottle BeyondJen Blacksand459 bowie-loon123 brassteeth colbalt-rain CrumpetsHarvey CupofCharlie DearPoetry disrhythmic doughboycafe Drunken-Splice emilyericson EternalSunday Fleeting-Epiphany FuzzyHoser glossolalias gogocherryrose GothKoala439 gummyrabbit ingle-nook intricately-ordinary iPawed IyraEMM jade-pandora jswebb Judah-Leonardo QuiEstInLiteris KaitForest KeanuWantRoomService LaBruyere LiliWrites lizilicious lluviosa MattVoscinar momo-madness mystichuntress nawkaman neuroticmnemonic Nichrysalis Obsidian-Nightfall ohmistermagazine oracle-of-nonsense orphicfiddler Nichrysalis Phu-Phu-Hugs-Me pomohippie7 pseudometry Psyghostis QuiEstInLiteris Raaawrli Rainyfirebreather reflectionsinwater RestlessSands riparii RiseandBe rlkirkland RosaryOfSighsx RussianTim ryante devsaartha: saevuswinds Sammur-amat Scarlettletters SilverInkblot ssensory starell That-Writer-Kid TheGlassIris TheGreatSpyExperim LeftUnfinished tonepainter toxic-nebulae travelgirlxx trembling-knees TristanCody Venry VicariouSoul Vigilo WetKakashi whatpumpkins winterkate witwitch your-methamphetamine ingle-nook zebrazebrazebra
Let's Never Meet Featured Writers:
never mindI guess it’s kind of funny, if you think about it. You always see in the movies – in the TV shows – people running and screaming and praying and stuff. That’s what Hollywood always thought it would be like. Some sort of ‘death cloud’ or something – or like an asteroid or something like that – that just happened: that just totally hit everybody by surprise.never mind by andrewpom
People have known about it for months. It’s not like in the movies. The word ‘inevitability’ comes to mind: and hey, guess what? Nobody cares to run from the inevitable. It’s pretty stupid – isn’t it, if you think about it – how people, in the movies, try to run from inevitable death. Everybody has decided what they were gonna do today weeks ago, maybe even months ago. Say goodbye to family, spend time with girlfriend, et cetera et cetera. As with the Kubler-Ross effect – or whatever it's called – p
Creepy-Crawl.When it rains, the snail comes.Creepy-Crawl. by Kurt-Jarram
And he tells unto me
all his gastropedal tales
from moss and rotted leaves.
He speaks of insect friendships
and also enemies.
“Beware,” he says “the centipede
and other vicious bugs
Beware” he says “Our cousins
Beware the shell-less slugs.”
“Be kind.” he says “And please leave
no salt on the kitchen floor
and, oh, would you please remove
those pellets from near the door.”
“My helix friend,” I say to him “Your words are truly wise.
A way for us to live in peace
I'm sure we can devise.
You, the noblest of bugs, who can neither bite nor sting.
I do declare your shell to be
the palace of a crawling king.”
When it's dark, the spider comes
and whispers in my ear.
How she, the arachnid garden queen
is hardly a thing to fear.
“Let me live,” she says “within your house's darkened halls
and silver tapestries I'll spin
to hang on every wall.”
She says “
Hey, Jealousyeyes cloud overHey, Jealousy by Cionie
and alcohol makes
what isn't "fair"
and a location shift
all is forgotten
the next morning
for fear of embarrassment
just a loosely titled "friendship"
swept under the rug
Pandora's CrackI breathed in a little dose(s)Pandora's Crack by Sammur-amat
of caster sugar and cocoa dust
before I leaped
I dove in ear-deep
to castrate this soured identity
"Who I am"
will no longer associate itself
"was" and "had been"
The rust that ran through my shackle
could not wear my ankle bones
nor the wings tucked in between
I licked off my salt-covered wounds
-all that once burned me, cured you
I will be my own
salve and salvation
This time I
the moons of mighty Neptune
octoberUnder a sky of dangers lie lovers like fallen fruit,october by IyraEMM
smashed to the ground, crushed into each other
and dripping. Aches travel from my heart to my
thighs, fears slither from my mind to my tongue,
tasting timeless thoughts of eternal smoke and skin.
Have I not scratched you deeply enough in my
daydreams? Let that cosmic glow tilt me away
from you, let the stars balance us out.
Let's for once let life breathe through its own lungs.
As days unfold,
her petals unfurl;
this flower is guiltless.
Love is a MemoryLove is a Memory by Fleeting-Epiphany
I am the callus over
your feme sole,
where once we bed
Nostalgia, now froth
from our breath
and temporal lips.
Pursuing the CerberusPursuing The CerberusPursuing the Cerberus by PursuingTheCerberus
to tattered fringes
of teenage wasteland—
a hologram only
vital for the young.
burrowed in books
or dancing with ghosts
privately upon paper
during secret evenings
fueled by an inescapable
into the simulacrum
of egg shell juvenilia,
where a young boy
finally felt empowered,
not shy, awkward,
scared or taunted.
Skewed by school,
my puerile cortex
still believed poetry
a dusty beast
only the most golden
of warriors could slay.
And to write it,
you had a better chance
of finding a pot of gold
at the rainbow's end
I stuck with prose
for a decade,
there I felt
like a Godhead.
with a burning hand;
from golden slumbers.
A booming voice
rages from the pages
i wanti don’t know what to write here. that i miss you? that it’s not okay and i want your arms around me? i want the smell of you and your hands on my ears, tangled up in my hair. i want you sleeping and peaceful, fingers like butterfly wings on my spine.i want by bangingonkeyboards
i want your car, you and me and highways. i want the night pressed against us and the air thick with sufjan stevens and your voice.
i want your grandmother’s house and bumping hips in that tiny kitchen, your queen size bed and cool sheets, sprawling on the carpet in bare legs and baggy t-shirts, rug burn on the backs of my knees.
i want kissing in your parent’s half-finished basement, your mother asking my opinion of her hair and you shuffling awkwardly in the hallway. i want curling up with you on a tiny couch, half-listening to movies with dust on my feet.
i forgot how you smelled and it’s killing me.
The Fall of a TitanOnce upon a time, in a large and gracious land in the continent of Asia, there lived a king. His name was Kim Jong Un and he was the supreme leader of North Korea. Following his late father, Kim Jong Il, to the throne, he has attained his mighty role at a rather young age. Being the son of royalty, the young man was pampered from birth and unlike the Buddha, never stepped outside the palace. And so he lived his sheltered and rich existence within the walls of gold his family had kept for generations, eating, sleeping and ordering around servants.The Fall of a Titan by dude-im-alive
One of the things Kim Jong Un had found a love for during his time in the palace, was food. Not cooking it of course, just eating it, for he was a lazy king who knew no bounds of relaxing. He had tried everything! All of the world’s finest cuisines had passed through his chunky gullet countless times, and surely would countless more. The most dangerous job in the kingdom was in fact the post of “The Palace Chef”. Since the st
Just Desserts#100408Just Desserts by SilverInkblot
Meal: Six (6) Maine red lobster tails
One (1) bowl of black caviar
One (1) glass of Chardonnay
One (1) scoop of vanilla bean ice cream, topped with dark chocolate ganache and a Maraschino cherry.
Comments: Garbage. I always knew rich people were full of shit.
Meal: One (1) pepperoni pizza from Little Caesar’s.
One (1) waffle cone, chocolate
Meal: One (1) bottle of Clear American, Fuji Apple flavor
Two (2) Payday candy bars.
Meal: Two (2) fried chicken legs
One (1) bowl of mashed potatoes, brown gravy
One (1) bowl of creamed corn
One (1) glass of milk
One (1) slice of peach pie
Comments: Just like Mom used to make.
Meal: One (1) bowl of tomato soup
One (1) grilled cheese
One (1) serving of spaghetti squash
One (1) Jello vanilla pudding
Meal: One (1) bowl of spaghetti
Two (2) Olive Garden breadsticks
One (1) bag of buttered popcorn, dusted with
Stay With Me (Dancing In The Moonlight) ‘Tonight you’re saving my life’Stay With Me (Dancing In The Moonlight) by CupofCharlie
-The Gaslight Anthem.
I open my curtains and look at the world outside my window. White cloud dominates the sky leaving no suggestion of the blue behind it, no hint of the sun struggling to break through. As I stare at the beginning of a new day, my thoughts inevitably turn to him, as they always do. I wonder if he’s awake. I wonder if he’s thinking about me too. My heart beats just a little bit faster at the simple thought of him.
It’s strange to think how one person has grown to mean so much to me. Someone who, a year ago, I didn’t even know. But just as the white cloud has overwhelmed the sky above me, his love has encased my heart. So perfectly. So completely. A love that is so strong, that whenever we are apart, a veil of melancholy inescapably rests upon me. The hardest moments of my life are when we have to say goodbye to each other. The happiest are when we say hello.
In the last few months,
ViolinI remember the dayViolin by Scarlettletters
you told me violins
were strung with cat gut
and that is why
you hated music
(who says that to a child?)
I followed you
all that summer.
I watched you
grow away from mother -
your whiskey held better conversations
and all she did was cry.
We'd sit cross-legged on the porch
and count the horseflies
settling on our lunch.
You would drown tadpoles
in a bucket
surprised they could not swim
and I would dream
of cherry popsicles.
And when night would gather
on the sidewalk
I'd hold my breath
until a star appeared.
Don't bother making wishes
you'd tell me -
stars are dead weight in heaven
and God has cloth ears.
eugenics in bulkBy the time she was twelve they had already decided she would marry a man who could run a five minute mile and speak seven languages. They chose her a husband the same way they had chosen her eyes and her legs and the pale freckles that interrupted her nose - the same way their parents had designed their children and arranged their marriages, strategic.eugenics in bulk by straygod
Her father called her petite reine. He owned an antique chess board carved from ebony wood and maple. Some days she'd sneak into the library, pry open the old chequered box and pick out one of the queens, and she'd turn it round and round, searching for imperfections. It was a plain, ugly thing, huge and fat in her tiny grasp. She had wondered if he thought of her this way.
She wondered the same now.
Her hands were not her own. A businessman in a white coat had grown them slender and strong, built her carbon fiber bones and nails like arrowheads. Her mother reminded her of this when the
five.Five is the number of times you worry he’s stopped breathing, as the surgeons carve around his heart, twisting away the plaque ridden arteries, and pulling a vein out of his leg. Five is the number of heart wrenching hours you and your family were waiting in the hospital room, worried that your lives would crumble, that there would be five members of the family instead of six, that five days out of the week he would not come home for dinner, that five kisses from him would no longer be given to his wife and four children. Five was the amount of fingernails you bit off while watching people enter and exit the waiting room, and the amount of minutes your mother spent on the phone, explaining that something was wrong. Five is the critical difference between holding a father’s hand as your mother cries into his heart shaped pillow. The difference between rejoicing and smiling weakly because he’s okay or carrying your father’s American-flag-covered-casket and watchinfive. by saevuswinds
Heat AdvisoryWe are an air-mass thunderstorm at the heightHeat Advisory by DrippingWords
of an Indian summer -- a cloudburst colliding
into a cyclone, raising the temperature of any
who wander through our sweaty inversion.
I soar above the earth buoyed on your thermals,
straight into a clap of thunder conceived by
lightning fever. A roiling heatwave travels
across our connection, evaporating the atmosphere
surrounding the eye of our storm. Your humid
breath wisps over the thermodynamics of my skin,
pushing cumulonimbus up the drought in my spine.
Muggy kisses trail down my body like volcanic ash,
a haze blurring the lines between our hurricanes.
And as the barometer spikes, my heartbeat quickens;
I am sucked into the vortex of your tropical storm.
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Shakespeare and the Goodwill StoreShakespeare
& The Goodwill Store
probably just skipping
into her second decade,
at the Goodwill Store
alongside me this afternoon,
both of us on the hunt
for something mystical,
the thrill of buried treasure.
Her excitement and enthusiasm
make me pause briefly
from scanning the spines
to reflect fondly on a young boy
who also wore that expression
of enthusiasm once.
Where has he gone?
What has become of him?
Ephemeral moments like this
breathe life into his memory,
though he is lost
to the great drain,
swirling into black pipes.
“Come on, Lucy.”
The girl's Mother says.
“But I'm not ready...”
“You always do this...”
“No more books. You've
already got too many.”
“But Mom, I found Shakespeare's
Tragedies and Shakespeare's Comedies.
I need these!”
“No, Lucy.” Mom says. “Come on,
The Omniverse (Infinity), Finity, Time and Life...“What is Time?” It is a temporary mathematical number whose divided
1 is distributed between the living that goes and slows in and out of sync,
and our dearest times that have their days increase less, decrease more
until no more. Time… Its existence is unknown to every newborn’s shut
mind’s eye that has not yet learnt understanding: time’s distinct numbers
get assigned to every embryonic beast and bug, to every nascent cosmic
entity (supposed and identified), and to every womb-begotten individual
by God /¯ yours to decide is or is not a being or thing of energy (label
you will like religions have and science continues to do [all relates to the
same entity, that which is God, except under uglier names in science]) _/
that or who formed the alpha-omega particle in all of us and all things
with strains of aggregating energies until solidifie
A Prayer-bead Prayershi
grenadined lips and kohl-rimmed eyes,
come now, come; drown down this caribbean sun with me.
disquieted rainfall worries
-they pitter patter
face with your feather
-weight touch, i become fresh tinder.
i sync our zealous breathing with your zinc penny pulse;
oh how i have fallen tender!
peeled raw, i now burn
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