Looking for the Perfect Last Minute Gift? Titles from Sudden Denouement Publishing Are Always the Right Fit

Blossom and Bone by Nicole Lyons

In Blossom and Bone, Nicole Lyons’ third collection of poetry, she is unafraid to bare her soul. With never a wasted word, Lyons’ work has a hypnotic immediacy that leaves the reader breathless, as if she were in the room with them, saying; “I am standing here screaming / I live, I live, I love.”

Blossom and Bone is “A beautifully crafted work of art that will punch you in the face with its gritty realism before soothing your wounds with elegant prose, thought provoking lines, and sublime imagery.” – Samuel Decker Thompson

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Pantheon by Eric Syrdal

Eric Syrdal’s Pantheon is the novel told in free-verse that you never knew you needed to read. Epic in scope but always deeply rooted in its humanity, it defies genres and expectations.

“Pantheon is a thrilling philosophical journey exploring the depth and meaning for one passing through a metaphorical world of inner demons and dragons, goddesses of the soul, of warrior and poet. A journey that crosses boundaries of time, space, and perception. I am captured by the intimate revelations of this intuitive and sympathetic protagonist battling the dark ages of his subconscious moving instinctively forward into innerscape, relying upon and exalting the virtue goddesses that guide and deliver him from barbarity and trial by ordeal both physical and spiritually as he transports from one state of being to another, from one point of time to another”
Holly Rene Hunter

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Composition of a Woman By Christine E. Ray

Christine Ray’s debut poetry collection ‘Composition of a Woman’ is an extraordinary glimpse into the essence of what it takes to make, and sometimes simultaneously break, a woman as strikingly powerful as she is beautiful. Split into five sections (Nerve, Brain, Breast, Rib, and Blood), Ray writes about chronic illness, depression, love, loss, and identity.

“Christine Ray brilliantly split Composition into five thoughtful sections that work together beautifully to deliver the maximum impact of each poem while taking the reader deeper into a stunning journey of the mind, the body, the very soul of this person. In Composition, Christine Ray reveals so much of what we try to hide, and she does so while dancing between ruthlessly beautiful and heartbreakingly painful.”
Nicole Lyons, I Am A World Of Uncertainties Disguised As a Girl

Composition of a Woman

A Sparrow Stirs its Wings by Rachel Finch

Sudden Denouement Publishing is honored to publish Rachel Finch’s book of poetry ‘A Sparrow Stirs its Wings.” Finch is the powerhouse behind the Bruised But Not Broken community on Facebook, which provides support and healing for trauma survivors. She is a symbol of hope and light throughout the world.

“Every now and then, when the world seems to be rocked in chaos and people are screaming without listening – vile words and cries for help climbing on top of and over each other – a single voice stands out, and that voice is pure in its truth and stunning in its wisdom.

Rachel Finch, and her debut book, A Sparrow Stirs its Wings, is that voice right now. Turning her heartbreaking abuse into heart wrenching prose, Finch writes her truth and gives her strength to every unnamed victim turned survivor.”

Nicole Lyons, I Am A World Of Uncertainties Disguised As A Girl

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Anthology Volume I: Writings from the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective

Anthology Volume I: Writings from the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective is a thoughtfully curated compendium of the best writing published online by the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective from its launch in August of 2016 through April 2018. It includes 138 pieces of cutting-edge poetry, prose and short fiction written by 29 diverse writers from England, Romania, Japan, India, Finland, the United States and Canada. Thirty-one of the 138 pieces were written exclusively for the Anthology. This volume captures the astonishing raw power of these individual and united poetic voices.

“One of the delights of this collection is the sheer diversity of voices, unconstrained, with differing syntax, forms, loss of form, deliberate omissions and styles, one moment you are reading a condensed prose-poem about the origin of life, the next a confessional bleeding rip from the heart about love and drugs. Nowhere else in modern collections have I found such a mélange of tongues, all begging questions, responses, emotions, some disgust, horror, desire. Volume I is a true kaleidoscope of the human experience, doused in realism and the phantasmagoric with absolutely no brake fluid.” Candice Louisa Daquin, Pinch the Lock

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I Am A World Of Uncertainties Disguised As A Girl by Nicole Lyons

‘I Am A World Of Uncertainties Disguised As A Girl’ written by author and poet Nicole Lyons, is a breathtaking collection of poems that blurs the lines between love and madness. A sorceress of words, Nicole Lyons takes the reader to the edge of the abyss of creativity, sanity, and love, and asks the question, ‘can one survive both a broken heart and a broken mind?’

I am a world

Machiavelli’s Backyard by David Lohrey

Some of these poems are prosaic, some disturbing, some out-and-out hilarious: I like the dark sardonic tone and exquisite vernacular of gallows humor that popped right off the page. David Lohrey commands an arresting, hard won deadpan syntax entirely his own. He can be biting, toothy, sardonic and often ambiguous. I love the casual acerbic tone. He makes me think of “Dover Beach” and Jonathan Swift. He is a deadly serious (and skilled) poet, who happens also to be a very funny man. Charles Bukowski comes to mind. It is a poetry of outrage, a poetry of sadness, and a poetry of laughter. Reading “Machiavelli’s Backyard” is like being invited to a garden party in a Walmart parking lot.

Machiavellis Backyard

Sudden Denouement Publishing titles are available worldwide through Amazon, barnesandnoble.com, and Book Depository

GI Distress

By Kindra M. Austin

definitely you.

Don’t be stoopid. It’s not me—

1.

Shush, now.

I know

break-ups are rough. Tough like

Rawhide.

Ever watch a dog chew on processed cow skin?

That shit’s indigestible; causes intestinal

swelling and diarrhea, etcetera.

Funny,

some relationships are (un)just

oversized break-ups in-waiting,

glazed with meat flavoring for optimal taste.

2.

I used to lounge with you

outside in the summer dark.

Under the stars,

we’d swig bottles of Miller Lite

and inhale Marlboro tobacco;

two Alphas trying

to cancel each other out.

3.

Shush.

That’s a goddamned lie.

I

never had int’rest

in your use-less

competition.

Now you howl by yourself,

wondering

who will clean up your vomit.

It’s not me—

definitely you.  


Kindra M. Austin is a very sweary indie author and editor from mid-Michigan (you can find her books here). She’s also the co-founder of Blank Paper Press, a founding member of Indie Blu(e) Publishing, founder of publishing imprint, One for Sorrow, and a writer/managing editor at Blood into Ink, and Whisper and the Roar. Austin cut her poetry teeth in April, 2016, and joined the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective in 2017. You can find more of her foul mouth at poems and paragraphs.



I Still Don’t Know How To Love Jasper Kerkau

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Love is so allusive. Everyone is looking for something that will ultimately disappoint them. I have mild conversation at laundromats and book stores. I have taken up a life of leisure, try to find God in simple things, but it is all so complicated. Everyone is so broken. The disconnection is sad, the broken mirrors and long silences are overwhelming. It only gets worse. We are spiraling into the void. I am not alone. Everyone wants to connect, find meaning with tea leaves and the soft glance that gives hope. So afraid, so sick with the burdens of modern life. I find silence in a quest for the soft flesh pressed against flesh, the simple embrace, the tongue touched to lips. Everything is nothing, at least for those who make a home in the desert, who become sick with the gadgets and toys of our misery. I yearn for something meaningful, but I get lost, hide in strange places. Disconnection didn’t save me. Perhaps forgiveness is salvation, true love is understanding, not groping hands or vapid expression of desire. I spend nights thinking about my failure, the loss, the misery, the abundance that destroyed me. The rat race was a fool’s errand. I learn how to embrace the quiet, but I still don’t know how to love.

[Jasper Kerkau is a writer/editor/co-creator of Sudden Denouement. His personal blog is Jasperkerkauwriting.com]

we are the violent

Olde Punk

RamJet Poetry

we are the violent

we are the violent. Cast aside permissions like the breath of early bedroom encounters. her name would be fire if you could capture in a language, but no tongue on earth can hold the meaning. It flows like water over the toes and under skin, sinking into pores as a cleansing salt and charcoal scrub both burns and purifies. You find us in the quiet hours when you’re alone and no one is around, all those secret fetishes that come unbound. We daze new wave, shoegaze, everything we see we want to feed on. the itching that all need scratches, the woman and me wish to plea for more of your injustices, scouring out the inky silky darkness of each daywalker at night in club on vacation. here try a little, we won’t hurt you, we are friends…..yeah, sure. Ours is symbiosis, there is no separation so to attempt to…

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Strange Shapes

S.K. Nicholas

S. K. Nicholas

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With my paws sliding across the ice, the milky moon puffed its cheeks and blew out a gust of wind that pushed me like a pair of invisible hands. Sailing on that frozen sea, I yelped and shrieked, and as the animals watched from the shore of trees, life didn’t seem that bad at all. With her song guiding me on, the words danced around my head before sliding down the length of my spine, entwining themselves around each and every one of my hairs. The fox was close behind, and he knew the magic too, and even though he hadn’t once been human like me, he knew of love and of the soul, and he understood what it was to believe in destiny. Scrambling after me, he latched onto my tail and together we drifted along. The wind was cold and got into my bones, and when the ice…

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A Stable Life

by Mick Hugh

For three years I’ve sat up in my tree,
in the shade of dreams,
and the roots have slowly
been drying up.

For three years catching wafts
of the vinegar and rotted fruits,
of our American Dream,
recessive trait of responsibility.

Who knew at the age of 22,
hot-blooded crotches
and itchy skin for sunshine,
that a Fortune 500 would be their Jubilee?

What pederast had it out at 18
to be a financial manager
at corporate Walgreens?

The treelimb you sit on breaks,
and the fall takes a few months.
Rat cages and sychophants
fed twice as much for listening.

The heroics of monotony.

Remember your days
reading textbooks at your desk,
group projects and algebraic thinking:
Little Davey you’ve been cultivated for this.

No need for you to sweat callouses and rough hands,
they’ve got another desk for you.
Pear-shaped where the body-fat masses on their seats,
little economic engines-that-could.

Genetically modified flowers
blossom without sunlight,
without color or stamens;
a horse without nuts
makes an easier ride.

Have a house,
have a kid,
be well-fed.
Pad your stable.

The American frontier
is a corral on Main Street,
Maple Street
and daydreams of Carnival Cruises.

Masturbate on lunch break,
a few white tears
in a bathroom stall.

Life lived,
life lost,
100 million limp-necked stiffs
have cordoned-off unnecessary risks.

Welcome to your stable, kid.



Mick Hugh is a writer for Sudden Denouement, and the groundskeeper at Mick’s Neon Fog.

Cohen, Cave, and Joy Division Crash This Bar

by Nathan McCool


I gather up abandoned bottles kissed with

cherry lipstick and cigarette scents – bring them to my lips and eavesdrop on the white noise inside.

“Come on back in, one more time, for the encore of “The Butcher Boy”; come in for

the closed viewing of PSR B1919+21.”

And this is when the boredom of barrooms

comes alive.

Right at the moment I emit pulses

that tell the masses I am not part of them. I’m sending you a signal, you tiny, little world.

See me here spinning and burning in my own

mind. I hop on stage to sing you a melancholy ballad and follow it up with “Tower of Song”.

That’s where I am. Another hundred floors below Hank Williams

and screaming to tell you,

“It’s the loneliest down here.”


Nathan McCool is a member of Blood Into Ink and the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective. You can find the haint, dusk, and sizzling of his concrete snares on his blog, Mist of Melancholia.