‘Tis three nights before Christmas, the day after Hanukkah, eight from St. Lucia, and five ’til Kwanzaa. ‘Tis two months since Diwali, India’s festival of light, as Sun settles into our world’s longest night. A breeze hugs the mountain, nudging daytime to eve, while an unkindness of ravens and a hawk take their leave. Observing […]
via ‘TIS THE NIGHT OF WINTER SOLSTICE — Donna Gwinnell Lambo-Weidner
I saw her in the dark of my eye stretched out on a polyester blanket, puffed-up cheeks and threads of pink bubblegum stuck to her hair the /maggot-eaten/ stockings barely covering up the /cigarette burns/ along her legs riffles trough the pages of the /holy/ bible, decides she doesn’t have time patient may sometimes […]
via Figments of a Mania – Henna Sjöblom — A Global Divergent Literary Collective
I always made sure our house was clean even though we never were. And I always made sure the moon had a sliver to peer into, a little slat between the pavement and my pillow where she would feel welcomed to lay her silver smile upon our sleepless nights and find us charmed enough to […]
via A Sliver of Silver – Nicole Lyons — A Global Divergent Literary Collective
We want to reach out. But baby here, now, this is the end. We know, we know ‘ the end ’. We’ve lived inside it. Slept. Slept. Inhaled. Creatures of absence. Your eye is an alien being. It alone sings. A rotating rim. Continuously revolving in the hemisphere’s strange music. I look down. My feet […]
via This is the End — A Global Divergent Literary Collective
i have checked myself and seen that i am nothing; the bones of poets gone and done lay beneath the hills. i put on my boots and took my shovel, for to disturb them would be a lesser crime than to ignore.i checked myself and saw that i was nothing; i looked for art and saw it slither into bank accounts in dead […]
via i checked myself — A Global Divergent Literary Collective
We’re all in a state of continual decay
Casting off neutrinos, alphas and betas
Dander and forgotten moments of yesterday
Fluttering to the floor is what their fate is
These motes of us become tomorrow’s dust
These particles dance in shafts of light
Thanks to wanderlust everyone breathes in us
Adrift on thermals we finally take flight
Look around now at all that you’ve collected
Owned and used by you or simply meddled
You are what you hold AND what’s rejected
A feather duster to clean on what you settled
The cosmos misplaced me left me to meteor into this zeitgeist of insipid distractions Where i roam as an anachronism under the city of lights in pursuit of remnants from Lutetia with nothing but a pen & piece of paper to live on Problem is I’m not a poet Let me tell you how i […]
via Notes On A Suicide by Hemingway – A.G. Diedericks — A Global Divergent Literary Collective
I travel this world widdershins
My head cocked to the side
Forty-five-degrees-askew
A confused mongrel
Trying to make sense of it all
Fingertips grazing all within reach
Like a blind man
Feeling for the inherent
A sign from the universe
The velvet rope of an exclusive club
The rust-pocked surface of a mailbox
The wispy hair of a newborn
The roughhewn marble of a tombstone
The shingled roof of a vacant doghouse
The smooth, sloped hood of a camaro
Dust covered, satin ribbons of pointe shoes
The latched, leather bound, diary cover
Just when I’d given up on divining verity
I run my fingertips across my stubbled cheeks
Tracing the trail of tears
I blow the sawdust off
This sequoia stump
With my damp fingers
I place my thumb
On the ring of your birth
Stretching my pinky out
To the ring of your passing
Lifting my hand I see two dark circles
Two simple dark circles
That hold within the span of your existence
I place my thumb on my birth ring
Lie down on the enormous stump
My pinky hanging out into the nilspace
I straighten my head the forty-five-degrees
And close my eyes…
I quite like the dark side, dear. Show me your shadows, those Phallic phalanges, and Feel up my female. I quite like the fusty spoors of Spirits, and semen, and plundered Blood Fixed to my skin. I quite like the emptiness settled in the pit of me— The sharp taste on my tongue […]
via BECAUSE I’M A WHORE WHO ASKED FOR IT – Kindra M. Austin — A Global Divergent Literary Collective
A stage
Empty
Dark
A spotlight
Center stage
A woman enters from stage left
Standing at center
She smiles
Her hand covers her mouth demurely
She lets out a quiet, little giggle
Quickly reigning it back in
Her lips curling at the corners
Lower lip quivering
She lets out a long, full-bellied laugh
As it begins to trail off
A floodlight comes on
The entire stage behind her is filled
Men and woman of all types
They join in, in the laughter
At times it’s deep and throaty
At others it’s shrill and cackling
It moves to a crescendo
When the original woman lets out a snort
Everyone falls to dead silence except her
She snorts out, once or twice, into the silence
Embarrassed, she stops and hides her face
The floodlight goes out
Her body shudders
Slowly her hands lower to her sides
Her hands tighten into fists which shake
She lets out a guttural scream
Gravelly and tearing at the throat
The floodlight comes back up
Now the stage is filled
Women on the right and men on the left
The women join in the screaming
They focus their vocal assault on the men
Fists shaking and feet stomping
The men cover their ears as their lips snarl
The women’s screams die out
The original woman holding her scream
For a couple seconds longer than the rest
The men lower their hands from their ears
Bending at the knees the men crouch low
From deep within a growling grows
As they rise the growl becomes a howl
Arms flailing about and muscles flexing
When the howling dies out
The men cock their fists back in unison
The women fall to the stage
Holding their hands up defensively
The floodlight goes out
Leaving the original woman alone
Shielding her face with her hands
Her body begins to shake
She lets out a low moan of pain
Shuddering to take in air
She builds to a long, soulful vibrato, moan
The floodlight comes back up
Only women are on stage behind her
They join in the chorus of wails and moans
This crying moves in waves
Quietly whimpering to sobbing to shrieking
As it builds to a crescendo the women fade
The floodlight dims to black
Leaving the original woman still lying at center
Her shuddering slows until she is motionless
Lying supine she is silent and still
An area light comes up
It reveals a casket
She looks over her left shoulder at the casket
Her body begins trembling
She cries quietly
She picks herself up and goes to the casket
She stands at the side of the casket
Still quietly crying
She lifts the upper lid and peers inside
Her low crying and body’s shaking builds
The crying’s staccato seamlessly transforms
We find her beginning to laugh
She throws her head back
Belting out a full-bodied guffaw
She climbs inside of the casket
Still laughing
We can no longer see her as she sinks in
Her laughing becomes a chuckle
Finally she lets out a snort
A pause of silence and another snort
Her hand rises from within the casket
Another snort and the hand slams the lid shut
The area light fades to black
erichmichaels 