A Note from Grendel’s Mother – Georgia Park

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i am ready for you to kick me out
im itching to hit the road
ill take my buddhist prayer beads
and my rawhide bones
ill take my stuffed animal carcasses
my dog who shits on the carpet
ill take all the men who visited
except one of them

because i just cant. i cant. i cant.
i cant do this

ill drink up all your liquor
ill wake up howling
my buddhist prayer beads
are made of animal skeletons
i think
though i was told
the bones are genuine human

i just cant do this.

i want my cave littered
i’ll keep the dead
we have a healthy relationship
i cant be trusted with the living
my own son and i
dont even speak the same language

i don’t much like talking.
and i cant.

i cant do this.
i cant do this. i cant do this again.

[Georgia Park is a brilliant poet, who possesses something very special. She was instrumental in the evolution of SD. We are honored to publish her work.]

Conversations with Jasper: Interview with Jonathan Farrell

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[Photo: ©Jonathan O’Farrell]

[This is an interview I conducted with the newest member of Sudden Denouement, Jonathan O’Farrell. I have had several conversations with Jonathan about his photography and poetry. I looked forward to the contribution he is going to make to Sudden Denouement and will be posting a selection of his poetry in the near future. He is an immensely talented individual, who has wonderful poetic sensibilities. His work is featured primarily on Patreon.]

Sudden Denouement Collective Q & A. – Sunday 13/08/201
Jasper Kerkau: Introduce yourself, perhaps give us a glimpse into what you do as an artist. You delve into several mediums, give us some insight into your art, what motivates you and what are your goals.

Jonathan O’Farrell: Hi, my name is Jonathan O’Farrell. My family background, if I think about it has been a curious mix of artists and military, or exploring types. There is, or has been in the past quite a pioneering trait, on both sides of my family. My mother was an artist. I don’t see creative work, poetry and photography as being particularly divorced from my daily reality, or being overly abstract. But ultimately I am happy for those who get to know me well as an artist and person to be the judge of that.
If you ask me as a poet and writer what my core themes are then we are talking about landscape, exploration, weather, seasons, nature, animals. Those, just mentioned, are the iconic actors in my poetry; but deeper still, my writing often alludes to significant influences – relationships, self-conquest, self-knowing, loves and loves lost.

Kerkau: I found myself very taken with your photography. Talk about your process, and what you hope to capture in photos. Do you feel yourself to be a photographer or a writer, or both?

O’Farrell: Okay, good question. I am definitely a photographer, but hey – I don’t currently make any appreciable income from it and am for the most part, utterly unknown. But I am damned if that’s going to stop me. You see my photography is a direct extension of much of what I do daily to support myself and others, working on the land, with trees, trying to keep myself healthy and sane. As for process, let me into just one aspect. I don’t have as good eyesight as some folk. So imagine I am walking quickly through the forest (and I do, I have long legs!). I’m striding along the way, full tilt, and then I stop! Say out of the side of my eye I have just glimpsed a vista, a stone, a shadow, or insect. I will stop, back up if need be and then approach my position, for the photo. If it takes me 20 minutes to circle a fire ravaged old Chestnut, wait for the sun to arc some more overhead I will. Sometimes I will almost stop breathing, it’s, almost, meditative how I am bought together with my subject. I just feel, sense first, then capture the photo. At least that’s my nature photography, a goodly bulk of what I do. But urban, historical and streetscapes is a developing practice for me.

Kerkau: I was very interested in your concept of the ethereal dream state. Can you explain how it is important to you to find stillness and how that impacts you as a writer?

O’Farrell: In its most obvious form a creative needs time and space to create. As for the bulk of my poems they come in the middle of the night or very early morning. They come out dreams, to an extent, or at least that half-wake state thereafter. They come to me with maybe as little as a few words, at the title, or line. In that time it takes to awaken, that is the transition space that I use to let more be channeled. At tops most poems are written in 30 to 60 minutes, the whole process. If I ever do post-edit its light. I did take maybe two and a half hours on one poem recently, but that utilized three languages, English, Low German and Anglo Saxon and spans 1,100 years of ancestral heritage – so you’ll have to cut me a little slack on that.

Kerkau: You seem to have a great deal of freedom, which is essential for an artist. Are you tied to a vocation, or are you a professional artist? If you have a vocation outside of writing/photography, what is it and how do you balance both?

O’Farrell: I am an escapee. I jettisoned much of that which comes with wage slavery last year. So, what do I do and how have I been surviving? Bottom line is I am living off savings, very frugally, living and working on the land utilising what vital life skills I have gleaned over 25 or so years, gardening, forestry, conservation, marketing and publicity – almost in spite of having a former existence in transport planning, sat on my arse, in an office for 12 years! Last ten months have seen me work in two animal sanctuaries, eco-tourism and land regeneration projects, as well as collaborating with a fellow photographer and environmental artist in Portugal, Caterina Costa Cabral. You will find me, so to speak, semi-nomading between Portugal, France, with forays into Germany and Belgium etcetera.

Kerkau: I am interested in finding out more about your photography and writing. Where does one find more of your work and to what degree do you utilize social media to find an audience?

O’Farrell: For now find your way to Jonathan O’Farrell on Patreon, it’s my go to site. I utilize other subsidiary channels like WordPress, therein Misterkaki has a little residence. Also I like to give a big shout out to Jeff Brown, the Canadian writer. I worked with Jeff and many others on his online writing course ‘Writing your way home’ and thus I am still involved in a wonderfully supportive Alumni Facebook group. By the way you can find me on Facebook, there are not all that many Jonathan O’Farrells!

Kerkau: I feel that all writers are beholden to someone. For me it was Ginsberg, he was a catalyst for my evolution as a writer early on. What writers are you beholden to?

O’Farrell: Ian Dury, soul/punk/funk wordsmith and songwriter. The chap had severe disabilities, but yet a big inspiration. More conventionally, in literary terms the German poet Rainer Maria Rilke is, I have to say, a fair influence in the genre of poems I might call ‘love letters in transit’.

Kerkau: I found you to be very engaging and intelligent. What is your background in terms of classical education, and how has that impacted you?

O’Farrell: Classical education, he, he, that makes me think – and smile. In short I was semi incarcerated in a series of boarding schools, like my mate Ian D., from 7 to 18 – I could tell a tale or two! I only got mediocre results at school, but did like the humanities and French. I wanted to run away to sea to be a ship’s radio officer, but maths was crap. Art was a love, but it meant I could not take my chemistry studies further – probably just as well, or I’D have blown the gaff sky high! Mature student me, in my late 30s, University of Derby, Tourism and Geography, (Bachelor of Arts, First) and proud of that, as kudos to all mid life learners, with little kids, a job and all.

Kerkau: I have always been fascinated with the concept of home. Thomas Wolfe was an early influence on me. Henry Miller seemed to toil with this issue. Where is home for you, and are you a person looking for his place in the universe?

O’Farrell: Ask me that question when I get there! For now, as we record this I am homeless. Well, not strictly true, I own a house near Leicester in middle England, but I do not live there now, but the kids do, when they are not gadding about at university, or down the boyfriends. Good question though, you’ve just prompted me to finish my slightly travel grubby pocket edition of ‘ WHERE I LIVED AND WHAT I LIVED FOR’
By Henry David Thoreau – respect to that man!

Kerkau: Who are you at the end of the day? Where are you going? Are you at peace with the world around you?

O’Farrell: I am a would-be worshipful lover, of myself, and any other significant others who are brave enough to be in my inner circle, or tribe. Going, well I have to head back down south into the wilds of eastern France in a little while to do a spot of farm work in exchange for storage of a fair chunk of my gear, for up to 6 months in a very rustic barn. After that who knows, probably back to the Mountains of the Stars – Serra de Estrela, central Portugal, where you can drink and bathe in cold, cold, clear waters.
I think the above answers the last question – universe bring it on!

Kerkau: Lastly, do you have a choice doing what you do? What have you sacrificed for your art?

O’Farrell: Yes, I have I have, in theory a choice. But I am very innerly directed in my soul’s vision, so, is that actually a choice, or the unextinguishable light of my given vocation? I have sacrificed a lot, if you think of it conventionally. It is in spite of all the very wonderful people I meet and collaborate with (and may there be more) a solitary life – but there ain’t nothing wrong with that!

Jonathan O’Farrell Patreon

Onward To Your Demise – Kindra M. Austin

Run through the labyrinth

That you created in me

One I now control

Big Government

Beast at your heels

Death in your face

So run run for your life

Onward to your demise

Run through my jungle

Hot and humid

Run through prayers

Run through bullets

Run down hide away

Baby but I will find you

Eventual pieces you will be

Littered upon razed rain forest floor

Wet red and chewed flesh mangled

 


[Kindra M. Austin is an author (information on her book can be found here), artist, and contributing editor and writer for The Bridge Magazine, as well as a fucking valkyrie Sagittarius. She can be found filing through the souls of the slain at poems and paragraphs.]

Shell Beach – S.K. Nicholas

In the boot of your car, there are several bottles of wine and a shovel of which we use to bury our secrets with because the world has no place for the likes of us. In your pocket, there are filters to block out the voices of those we once resembled, filters your childhood self would be shocked and alarmed to see. Much the same as how my younger self would be shocked and alarmed in coming face to face with the abstraction of what I’ve since become. In a field away from prying eyes, I place the blanket on a spot of flush grass and together we admire the unspoilt view of miles and miles of nowhere and everywhere with an ocean of blue sky above us that leads to an ocean of water as my hand slides beneath your top caressing your waist. And then it’s your breasts and then it’s my mouth and teeth on your neck and then you push me down upon the blanket and we roll and rock in ways none of them will ever be able to measure. In the distance, a city rumbles like a belly full of booze and not much else. In the hidden soil, all that we have ever lost is regained with each kiss. This globe is a tiny one, and yet we do what we do as if we weren’t mere humans but entities, like those on the moor up north, y’know, the one where Heathcliff and Cathy play? We taste these kicks and dig our fingers in pretending it’s not how it is but it’s exactly that which is why we’re here, kissing without the need for anyone else to ruin our vision. Your lips are cherry, and the way your hair catches the breeze, it’s a memory of London, and it’s a memory of paint on canvas and the quietness of my life before you made yourself known. We were always meant to find each other, and we were always meant to come undone in each other’s embrace. There was no other way. As my fingers touch yours and you whisper those words into my ear, I tell you to close your eyes and picture us stood at the end of a pier throwing stones into the sea. It’s a place we can go where they’ll never come looking. Where our love will remain as pure as the night when everything else crumbles. We discovered it almost by chance, and when it gets too much and we lose sight of things, all we have to do is go back, and our souls align themselves once more.


 

[ S. K. Nicholas is the creator of  My Red Abyss and author of A Journal for Damned Lovershis first novel. He is a brilliant writer and a member of the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective. To learn more about S.K. and A Journal for Damned Lovers read Jasper Kerkau’s interview with S.K. and his review of A Journal for Damned Lovers. ]

Conversations with Jasper Kerkau: Dustin Pickering (Frenetic/No Contest)

Jasper Kerkau interviews Dustin Pickering of Transcendent Zero Press and the journal Harbinger Asylum about his latest book Frentic/No Contest (Alien Buddah Press).

Daffodils

By Oldepunk

Daffodil

The smell of rotting agendas always waft in your wake.  I’ve grown accustomed to your sand storm daffodils.  It’s not what you once were, but what you could be that still intrigues me.  Potential, potentially terminal, with velocity.  Sniper taking aim, the looks you throw with abandon.  I lie still sometimes and pretend I can hear the screaming in your eyes.  I would have given it all for you, you know.  I do not think it would have mattered to you.  You are the song Reptile by The Church.  I can see you sauntering and stalking in the sun by the beach every time I hear that song.  Which is often, ’cause I like to pick at open wounds.  The bloody mouth of puckering pink skin attempting to heal is such a turn on and a visceral reminder of your violence, my violet-skinned lecher.  Your Krispy Kreme coochy-coos hardening my arteries.  And then, slow syrupy suicidal sex. Something in me went dormant when you left.  I vaguely remember why, but it’s fuzzy like flash backs from a blackout or a bad trip.  Which I only had once or twice, but that was more than enough to keep from doing it again.  I would for you though, if you wanted to.  Crashing around in the forest at dusk under deep November skies and yelling fuck-all to the universe.  You were always the spark that started Devil’s Night.  A goddess of Bacchus’ loins.  There was nothing I would not have done for you.  I died when you left.  The husk remains, with the frozen portraits of your jack o’lantern smile burned into my retinas.  My skin still shudders with the traces of your touch.  My gypsy witch, evil love cursing the hearts around you like a speedball on fentanyl on meth that is the last run of the roller coaster and heart is pounding and I will be with you soon and my veins are flame and my heart is a jackhammer and I will be in you soon and I will kill you soon and soon I am coming for you my beautiful malady with the melody of death on my lips… and a fistful of sand storm daffodils.

 

image courtesy of Pinterest and Awkward Family Photos

Raven – Christine Ray

 

It starts as tightness
tingling
across bare shoulder blades
becomes an itch
I can’t quite reach
stretch my spine sinuous
slow
vertebrae by vertebrae
long for a shot of whiskey
or three
liquid gold disinhibition I can blame
for the reckless choice
I am about to make
I finally let go
tightly coiled control
gasp with relief
as I finally unleash the darkness
onyx feathers rip
sharp and true through the flesh of my back
talons shoot from fingertips
toes
bones burned hollow
by demon fire dwelling in my belly
exquisite pain of rebirth
brings me briefly to my knees
I arise something new
wipe the blood from my mouth
spread fledging wings
and with the lift of the north wind
I claim the night sky
mine


[ Welcome back, Christine Ray! When not running around pretending she is Wonder Woman, Christine Ray can be found writing for Brave and Reckless. You can also find her at Blood Into Ink, Whisper and the Roar, and Go Dog Go Cafe. ]