The Execution of Leon d’Oro- Grippo- Jonathan O’Farrell

Somehow, knowingly, he had saved

the last little remnant.

Somewhat dried six and a half month old toothpaste,

 for the morning.

In waiting, the end of the tube,

 or the end of his world,

he could not have, foretold.

But it was not to be, that brushing.

For he was served summarily,

with a single volley at 0102.

But, we have to say, to his delight,

the guards allowed a visitation,

by his favourite nocturnal denizen, around midnight.

Also, it maybe noted,

although denied that final pleasurable squeeze of dentrifice,

by the prior evenings confiscation,

the mutual fellation was supremely salacious.

And he even got some kip,

before the rudely unappointed hour.

Therefore, he really didn’t give a fuck,

this time.

Half asleep, satiated, as he was,

at the moonlit wall.

She will weep, he thought, last thought.

But at least I have penned her this

and she had her last meal, from me.

 

“I guess you might describe me as a semi-nomad, at the moment . . . and in the moment, I might change. I am transitioning into a creative life, blogging, photography and, significantly, the publication of my first two photographically illustrated poetry anthologies, this year.”

Subscribe to my monthly newsletter, with writing, photography, healing garden project updates and travel journals:

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Melt- Iulia Halatz read by Jonathan O’Farrell

I have shared
land and sky
with you.
I have tasted
blood and honey.
My witch-oil turned
to dragon-fire
at your touch…

Soft fingers laid asleep
until your turmoil
woke them
for so long…

It feels like getting drunk
on old reddish wine
long softened
during times of
War
Equanimity
and
Comets.
What shall I pour in your glass?
Molten flowers
Golden ink
Lucid light
Unicorn mirth…

I dig your veins
for gold.
I find pure
bitter-sweet
amber nuggets.

I fear any story
whose ink
my words
can’t drink…
Yet I drip in yours
ever since.

When your arms call
and your lips
read all my feral kisses
How can there be no heaven?


Iulia Halatz: “Writing is an Iron Tale, must be tough and sincere to the core of human perception of pain as valor. I am the grumpy T-Rex who started writing out of pain, not because of a polished world. Writing out of love is painless and herbivore. As we sometimes taste blood, ours or others’. Nevertheless, some words are so expensive that we are better left with them unspoken or write them with the ink of a Ghost…” She is a teacher, small entrepreneur and cyclist.

Jonathan O’Farrell: “I guess you might describe me as a semi-nomad, at the moment . . . and in the moment, I might change. I am transitioning into a creative life, blogging, photography and, significantly, the publication of my first two photographically illustrated poetry anthologies, this year.”

Subscribe to my monthly newsletter, with writing, photography, healing garden project updates and travel journals:
https://misterkaki-writer.substack.com

What can I give you?- Iulia Halatz read by Jonathan O’Farrell


What can I give you? I am the blue
as imagined by a blind
and the roots of knowledge
as watered by a scholar.

I am the yellow
wind and the mauve
respond of light
perched
in the ubiquitous trees
tethered in the clouds
that barely scratch
the sky.

I am the green
storm and colorless waves
that wished upon a mountain
to break water in tryst
with the sun.

Not by blindness
we can reorder colors
but by the painting of a soul
in a moment tender
as the liquid moon
is quivering above the forest.


Iulia Halatz: “Writing is an Iron Tale, must be tough and sincere to the core of human perception of pain as valor. I am the grumpy T-Rex who started writing out of pain, not because of a polished world. Writing out of love is painless and herbivore. As we sometimes taste blood, ours or others’. Nevertheless, some words are so expensive that we are better left with them unspoken or write them with the ink of a Ghost…” She is a teacher, small entrepreneur and cyclist.

Jonathan O’Farrell: “I guess you might describe me as a semi-nomad, at the moment . . . and in the moment, I might change. I am transitioning into a creative life, blogging, photography and, significantly, the publication of my first two photographically illustrated poetry anthologies, this year.”

Weaving Manannan’s Mists- Allie Nelson & Jonathan O’Farrell

That secret language
can the speaking
no less writing of it
be upon us this day.
For we may set sail
for that furthest shore
the star that is by us
relative of myth and Manannan.

But first the stillness
that’s in it must you peer
and lips imbibe
his brew of mists weaved.
Seer hazel guarded source
will find you soonest
with heron and salmon,
brethren by sisteren.

All that you need
in the setting sail
of that intent
a blessing, trianaid.
Upon you the finding will be
a task, a guide, the words
writ legend as Oisin, Niamh
eternal releasing your mythic death.

As Sinann flows with the salmon of wisdom,
so too does Manannan ride the waves of wanderlust
searching farthest shores for sweet succour at
swan maiden’s breast and selkies’ moonlit whispers. There is a gate at the Isle of Avalonian apples Manannan makes a cider of immortality and ushers on souls on a dapple steed Nuada Silverhand guards the gates of gold under waters thick and cold as the Morrigan’s heart this magic is breathtaking and breaking, the
Trickster Lord of the Waters, Manannan Mac Lir
is tempest usurpant, enchanter disguised by starlight
and they say if you cry seven tears into the high tide
and whisper the secrets of your heart, Manannan will
appear under his mistress moon, take his driftwood staff
and knight you and lift you up to be tithe to peace.
Ride him into the afterlife, on shoulders sun leather,
Breathe in the salt of sweat and ages on Atlantic
dive deep and pluck pearl hearts, and know, Manannan’s
stride is ten league boots, and you are walking on the
shore into the faraway place where dusk light kisses
a smoky sea horizon, and all is calm swells in his hall
so eat Arthurian apples, sweet as roses, and remember
it twas Mananan that found you and brought you home!

Image by Jonathan O’Farrell


Allie is a rather bubbly blonde that currently attends grad school for science communication, has a rather useless degree in biology, and works in the environmental field. She can usually be found hugging trees, eating green curry with tofu, or exploring the wilds of D.C.. Allie is an avid poet, aspiring author, meme queen, speculative fiction enthusiast, and alien centaur aficionado. She also has about 600 lipsticks.

You can find her at Dances With Tricksters

Jonathan O’Farrell: “I guess you might describe me as a semi-nomad, at the moment . . . and in the moment, I might change. I am transitioning into a creative life, blogging, photography and, significantly, the publication of my first two photographically illustrated poetry anthologies, this year.”

Subscribe to my monthly newsletter, with writing, photography, healing garden project updates and travel journals:

https://misterkaki-writer.substack.com

One Day in the Summer – Jonathan O’Farrell

One day

 in the summer

I knew it would come.

The heat, the season,

the roses,

 all the parts thereof

and what joys,

what joys are displayed?

But when that time comes,

as surely those blooms unfurl

I ask those questions.

How do I even begin, or end this,

 to feel sufficiently

 the beautiful now, of it.

This day, it is aways othering,

 not my now.

I gave by my hands,

that were indeed loved.

An intended severance,

those acute cuts

 of kindness.

Then a parting gift,

 pressed firmly against my lips,

for a future uncaged.

Goes then, shown gathering

 also so many, seashells,

new memories,

on that sultry, salty, foreshore.

No wild breakers,

yet, there beside

many days may remain

to us, also roses.


“I guess you might describe me as a semi-nomad, at the moment . . . and in the moment, I might change. I am transitioning into a creative life, blogging, photography and, significantly, the publication of my first two photographically illustrated poetry anthologies, this year.”

Subscribe to my monthly newsletter, with writing, photography, healing garden project updates and travel journals:

https://misterkaki-writer.substack.com

Meet Sudden Denouement Collective Member Jonathan O’Farrell

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The editors of Sudden Denouement Literary Collective know that our strength is our writers. We hope that you enjoy getting to know them through our new Writer Interview Series.

What name do you write under?
Jonathan O’Farrell, but also to be somewhat developed and further adopted ‘ misterkaki ‘

In what part of the world do you live? Tell us about it.
I currently own a house near Leicester in the Midlands of England. But to be honest I have not actually stayed here more than a couple of months since November 2016.
It is a rather unlovely ex coal mining village, albeit it is surrounded by England’s biggest and longest term land regeneration project, The National Forest.

Please tell us about yourself.

Semi-nomad at the moment and in the moment, Creative life transitioner, blogger, photographer, tentative shamanic student and, apparently, poet.
Forthcoming, my first two photographically illustrated anthologies, 2018; ‘Trinity’ and ‘Seasoned in Time’. 2019; ‘Rock, Paper, Scissors, Fire!’.
As rich as the creative experience the current life is, exploring Portugal, France, Spain and later Ireland, by winter 2018 I hope to have ‘settled’, a ‘tiny house” or similar, with sufficient land. The vision; create an abundant garden, for lost souls, separated loved ones, under the sun. A meeting place, with coffee, inspiring books, poetry and healing, however it may arise.

If you have a blog or website, please provide the name and the link.

Misterkaki.wordpress.com

misterkaki-writer.substack.com

When did you begin your blog/website, and what motivated you start it?
I began on WordPress around the spring of 2017. When I started WordPress it was more for somewhere for me to record short ‘thought pieces’, a few travel tips and to some extent a minor showcase for my photography. Since then I have posted much more poetic content, as this has burgeoned. Substack is a new venture, taking over from my presence on Patreon. It will I hope be a platform for a monthly newsletter that can be subscribed to.

What inspires/motivates you to keep blogging on your site?
Of itself it is enough essentially to be a living archive of my writing and visual creativity. Of course the regular and supportive presence of a subscribing and most importantly, commenting readership is a big factor too.

When did you join the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective?
As I recall July 2017.
Why/how did you join Sudden Denouement?
I sent in a poem or two. I subsequently had a number of very enthusiastic online conversations and emails with Jasper Kerkau.

What does “Divergent Literature” mean to you?
In an overstimulated and seemingly homogenous world literature and other multimedia expression that authentically and without compromise cuts through this perceived predominancy.

SD Founder Jasper Kerkau frequently talks about Sudden Denouement writers using the ‘secret language’. What is it?
I perceive this as a brotherhood / sisterhood, even a cabal of writers that, even given our inherent divergence, essentially ‘get’ what the ‘otherness’ is saying.

What are your literary influences?
Ian Dury, soul / punk / funk wordsmith and songwriter. 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’. Also figuring W.B. Yeats, Rumi, Khali Gibran and our very own S.K. Nicholas. But to be honest, you are as likely to see me reading books on celtic shamanism at the moment. Let’s just say my influences are eclectic, divergent even!

Has any of your work been published in print? (books, literary magazines, etc.) How did that happen?
Published in: Harbinger Asylum: Winter 2017 Paperback – 22 Dec 2017 ISBN-13: 978-1981623723

I wrote to Dustin and submitted three poems and two were published.

Do you have writing goals? What are they?
Forthcoming, my first two photographically illustrated anthologies, 2018; ‘Trinity’ and ‘Seasoned in Time’. 2019; ‘Rock, Paper, Scissors, Fire!’.
More collaborative writing. Thus far I have done some poetry with Canadian author Mary Rodgers. They are in the process of being submitted to Enrealment Press.

Which pieces of your own writing are your favorites? Please share a few links.
Lucid Learning Moments

The Well of Presence

Ritual

and finally, because simply I am fascinated by time and try to live in a present, created afresh in the moment, this, my very latest and curiously, longest by far, poem:

those days

What else would like to share about your writing, Sudden Denouement, or yourself?

A bit of a reveal; as rich as the creative experience the current life is, exploring Portugal, France, Spain and later Ireland, by winter 2018 I hope to have ‘settled’, a ‘tiny house” or similar, with sufficient land. The vision; create an abundant garden, for lost souls, separated loved ones, under the sun. A meeting place, with coffee, inspiring books, poetry and healing, however it may arise.

You see, whilst my writing is my doing; my doing is my writing.

Finally, I must say how very encouraged I am by the latest SD developments, not only that, but by those who had the vision to initiate this divergent literary revolution in the first place. You have my gratitude.

 

The Bellowing Arbour – Jonathan O’Farrell

How much power do you need,
to take from us?
Have we not heard already years,
half asleep, just awake, degraded humanity,
to hear?
Enough perhaps,
to hear the obvious,
our arms swirling.
Perhaps a groaning,
in another over-energetic cyclone.
Be neither comforted
nor distracted,
by thoughts of summer,
just elapsed.
For purring black felines
on your lap,
nor even the singing,
of domestic draughts,
through your cat flap
speak the language you need,
to hear.
Your arbour brothers
and their brides have,
in these shortening days,
hastening wet footings.
And as yet their arms be semi-clothed.
As such and sucking they stand vulnerable,
to that one time,
in how so many years,
storm.
Their time early,
too early?
Smote storm stricken betwixt,
the north and east seas.
Cat curled there around my bedding
and my lax hand around a cooling tea.
Dance,
partners of thundering timbre,
into more of my unthinking time.
But for my brothers
and sisters reach,
oh reach
and bring onto them,
thy swirling beseeching.
Bash their brittle panes,
of protection.
And shriek,
time!
Time is nigh,
civil sleepers.
Come now to the earthen floor,
and rotate all your minds.
Shift swiftly,
into healing embraces before all,
you think you know,
is taken back,
rightfully,
to ancient unyielding slime.


“I guess you might describe me as a semi-nomad, at the moment . . . and in the moment, I might change. I am transitioning into a creative life, blogging, photography and, significantly, the publication of my first two photographically illustrated poetry anthologies, this year.”

Subscribe to my monthly newsletter, with writing, photography, healing garden project updates and travel journals:

https://misterkaki-writer.substack.com