Petal – Olde Punk

the scent of the dogwood

petals drifting to soft bed

their crimson reminders

stark on white

I remember the sound as my town lies dying

the fall out of midnight as Mr. Sunshine

banks and curves, He’s the nightmare

stuff that frightens King and Cave

wide ass smile with one deep dimple

dark eyes of a shark in frenzy

He has a red right hand and a left one blue

a long mile coming and a breath or two

his need for an event horizon

is strong indeed

Infecting the populace, stirring the dead

teasing with masochism and candies

those young in the head

Mr. Sunshine likes to devour the foundations

and watch it all fall from the absence

Burning dogwood screams against

the hate and malevolence as our town

lays dying

No work, no hope, no direction, no community

just anger and abuse and the needle and the juice

the Way of the Gun, Mr. Sunshine’s favorite fun

knots and bonds undone under the grin of Mr. Sin

and his midnight zeros

Some people say we had it coming

but I don’t know

I recall the scent in the fall

and the petals resting on the floor of the forest

thinking that there are worse places to be…

but that was long ago

prior to that pious bastard

Mr. Sunshine and his midnight zeros

once we knew of unity and sacrifice

the petals remind me so

We sit sanctified in our heathen afterlife

watching the buildings burn

Believing in nothing is a belief in something

Our sciences tell us that nothing consumes everything

so what side are we really on?

petals in the snow and binary code

one two zero zero

image courtesy of Lewis Hine and Pinterest

[inspired by the Orwells song ‘Ancient Egypt‘]


 

[Olde Punk is an editor of Sudden Denouement and the curator of Ramjet Poetry.  Hockey, food and punk rock junkie.  Total sci-fi/fantasy geek.  He writes, right?]

‘Recombinant Selves’ – A Collaborative of 11 writers

We inherit

The wordless cry

Of all our former

Selves (CER)

 

They layer themselves

upon us

ragged cloaks

of the homeless

dragging

at our heels (AP)

 

Dusk takes one last breath

Swallowing golden specks of us

Scattered among the detritus

No light reflects

From such depths

We are the chosen (1W-W)

 

We stumble against starless darkness

searching for one truth (KMA)

 

Layer by layer, I am revealed.

The reflection looking back at me

isn’t one I recognize.

Will there be anything

worth remembering,

when I’m gone? (SD)

 

Fragmented remnants

permeate our evolution

ill-fated to dissonance

a dichotomy of our

recombinant selves (AGD)

 

Searching for a candle in the abyss,

A hope to hold onto,

To chalk sweaty palms

Gripping a frayed rope.

tearing tender flesh,

Climbing toward salvation (JWL)

 

But the stars have fallen, smashed diamonds

of our shattered images, and the lost cry

who am I? In tune with our hearts.(A)

 

Through telescopes

we focus on a point

All else is irrelevant

From the bottom of a well

our vision is limited

All else is a mystery (WC)

 

The mysterious property

of my ancestors

the progeny of dusk

I am prodigy or effigy

What I ought to be

or another misstep in

my fragile history (OP)

 

Our former

Selves

Cry:

Look

Their

inheritance! (SFF)


 

Writers:

1Wise-Woman

A.G. Diedericks

Allie

Kindra M. Austin

Ward Clever

Sarah Doughty

Stephen F. Fuller

John W. Leys

Aurora Phoenix

Olde Punk

Christine E. Ray

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

Interment

RamJet Poetry

angerIntern

In turn, interment

Interim intermittent

Enter, around the winter

The saints shake stones

Sharing the stories of

Impertinent youth

Impairing reasons, deliverance

Casual impersonation

Impermanence inspired

Taking tolls from souls

Imparting partitions

In parts unknown

interspersed envisions

envision immanence

Immaculate, inking

Incisions to grasp

Cold bone introductions

Inhabit inhibitions

Imprison, impartial

Improvising provisional

Empirical formulae

Interruption of vision

Inexact injuries

Idolized immolation

Infancy impinges upon

Impending implosion

Influx immunity

I or eye or i.e.

Imbue

Impoverish

Isolate

Incinerate

Inflame

Impale

Impure

Intomb

Interpretation?

I or me or we or you or them or us or they or he or she or me or I

Or You

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Sudden Denouement Publishing: David Lohrey and Rana Kelly

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Sudden Denouement Publishing: David Lohrey and Rana Kelly

We are very excited to announce the forthcoming publication of works by David Lohrey and Rana Kelley. Over the course of the last few months, there was a great deal of work put into transitioning our energy and talent into creating a fully-functioning publishing company. Though the process has been arduous, we are beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. SD Publishing will serve as an outlet for our writers to have access to publishing their work, and we will also be open to submissions from non-SD writers.

     Over the course of the last four or five months, we have seen several of our writers find avenues to publish their work. Nicole Lyons’ published her stunning debut HUSH through the Feminine Collective, Georgia Park (warrior poet extraordinaire) self-published her first collection, Quit Your Job and Become a Poet. We have several other writers who have already published books, and I felt that with the wealth of talent we have at our disposal it was natural that we provide our writers an outlet for publishing.

     I am proud to announce that we have two books that are forthcoming. First, we are honored to publish David Lohrey’s Machiavelli’s Backyard. David is a poet who continues to find ways to stun me with his honesty and mastery of the art. I am very proud of the book and think his work will gain much-deserved attention to this brilliant artist.

      Rana Kelly and I have been finishing up editing her chapbook, Every Breath an Earthquake. I remember the day Nicole Lyons sent me a frantic email that she had discovered a brilliant writer on Facebook. I will always be grateful to Nicole for bringing Rana into our collective. She is fierce, honest writer speaking the secret language Sam Lucero educated us all on. I believe her work will find its way into the hearts of many who share our passion for poetry.

     Additionally, we will soon start the process of putting together the Sudden Denouement Anthology. My passion has always been connecting writers with a larger audience, in the process, we have formed a family. The anthology will be the result of over a year’s work and showcase the amazing talent of our writers.

     All of these projects are a labor of love. It is the work of every writer that makes it possible. We are interested in talking to anyone who wishes to participate in the process. This project is larger than one, or two, or three people. This undertaking will require many people bringing their gifts to the table. I will be setting up Skype interviews with anyone who wishes to participate in the publishing process, or who wishes to have their work published. We all do this for the love of literature. It is our goal to be good stewards to those who bestow upon us the honor of sharing their work. We are a collective; we are a community. We are all stronger together than we are on our own. Sudden Denouement is the most important project I have been privileged to involve myself with. Please contact me or any of the editors with any questions or suggestions.

Godspeed

Jasper Kerkau

Jasperkerkauwriting@gmail.com

Weight of Ways

RamJet Poetry

Weight

It’s the way

down

I am weighed down

It is the words

that are storming

in the back of

my head

It’s the dead

and words said

It’s the waydown

solve my mystery

for me

I condone

but do not belong

We all strive

to keep alive

the slow songs

of the last dawn

It weighs down

on a heart

concurrent salvations

in a place

of damnations

What belongs here

and those apart

catcalls and masturbations

apartheid and

insinuations

it is the weighing

down

done unto one

form of another

gun

scratching the serial

to provoke the

surreal

killer craftwerk in cold

sunshine

it’s the way

down

compound fracture

of my disposition

alleviate happenstance

and dance the jig

of denigration glance

I fall

and follow

the formations

of this long

fucking line

down

It weighs me down

In this queue

with you

It may behoove you

to lose

that lovely…

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Gestalt-OldePunk/RamJet Poetry

RamJet Poetry

Gestalt

Grasping convolutions

anything will do really

corrugated steel rictus

pulls at corners

a shadow play

in ritual dusk

down another

glass of slow derision

at the nearest

watering hole

wondering how and why

I am unholy

reconcile I’m alone

with the pictures

we both inhabit

I could not hold

the fire

so now I choke

on smoke

and bathe in ashes

my breath stinks

of rebellion

my words are heavy

and low, lo

unto tomorrow

riveting the compunction

to depart the now

the how and when of it

matter little

respond to extinguish

the embers

of my love, of

your ruin

I absolve myself

of any wrongdoing

It’s stern

your reflection

I return

to the objection

and babe

it’s all gone down

it’s all your fault

it’s not the noun

it’s not this town

the fade of gestalt

that I caught

standing outside

looking in at

your origins

I am…

View original post 117 more words