Sword of Remorse-Max Meunier Dissociative Void

as the sun succumbs

to mirrored abyss

i lift my head

to greet her


pale as moon

in vales of ruin

stark as darkness

streaked with light


in her arms

i shun all reason

depthless freedom

steals the hour


my back turned

to the earth

i stumble

into astral heights


tending to the hearth

inspired by visions

whence she seized

the dire sword of remorse


and ran me through

to lost beginnings


[Max states: “I write about the things going on in my life. I am a feminist, humanist, cat loving musician bound by whimsy and the incessant analysis of hyper-vigilant observations.  I am obsessed with words and rhythmically woven wordplay.” We are honored to have him as a member of our tribe.]

Max Meunier Poetry

Gag Reflex-Introducing New Sudden Denouement Member S. K. Nicholas

The Sudden Denouement Literary Collective is thrilled to introduce new Collective Member S. K. Nicholas.  S.K. is the gritty lyrical voice behind A Journal for Damned Lovers.

Triptych personality and a taste for the beaten and crushed. Favoured positions. Preferred imagery including a crushed butterfly placed so sweetly on her navel- the one that swims with my seed. Specks of blood on the bed sheets from our collision- the one I try denying but keeps happening anyway. In lipstick upon the wall, I scrawl my desires in lowercase. I spell out what I mean to say which always seems to escape me when she’s gagging on my fumes. I’m a good guy at heart, but a single droplet puts me in a rage like you wouldn’t believe. Shards of glass and portals. Lonely roads and stories gathering dust, but there will come a day when everything makes sense. There will be a moment when the end is not the end and an exit is not an exit but a door to a river where resides the girl who started it all. I go in and out- I pass through on the off chance she’s around. Lights and nipples and stretch marks. Torn lingerie and tourniquets. Vampires, lovers, killers. A painter, a writer. There exists celluloid imagery of my actions. There are photos of body parts and vials full of hair which fuels the fantasy more and more. There was once a golden light but it was snatched away and now I take from others because my future was taken from me. Souls and slaves. The ties that bind. Scenes missing until she’s wrapped in a blanket because this world doesn’t care and although my hands are cruel I do it because I care and no one cares as much as me. She is mother and enemy. She offers salvation and torment but the more I do it the less I can tell which is which. Flowers pressed in a book. Numbed fingers from two bottles of wine as she shaves her pubic hair at my request. She is not her own woman, she is my girl. The girl by the river who visits me after I pass out in the early hours of the morning halfway up the stairs. She flickers in the eyes of those who get too close. She dances in the mirror and kisses my neck when the right scent ignites what’s left of me. That cherub heart, it’s been gone for years and no matter what I do, and no matter how many times I try bringing her back, it won’t beat again.

S. K. Nicholas is blogger at myredabyss.com and author of A Journal for Damned Lovers.  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.

Something Wicked in the Clouds- Christine Ray/Brave and Reckless & S Francis/SailorPoet

Ever been cloudbusting?

We lay on our backs

in damp fragrant grass

Look up at the sky

to trace a dream that seems

Soft and fluffy

like cotton candy.


We point up at rabbits

and dragons in the mist

Discerning ghost ships in full sail

Moments so sweet kids swallow

Them in their first sugar-filled

Carnival step to torment parents

Filled with a need for one still moment

To spite the chaos.  Life


Invent a new game from shadows

North winds blow in ominous clouds

We bust them up into Grimms

that twist into dark corners

Where Freud conjures out

Nightmares stripping bliss

Exposing naked fears

That freeze children in their place

We watch vaporous Hell Hounds

Chase fleeing maidens

Giant toads swallow koi


Release our Ids, wild and feral

Join the Wild Hunt

Chase the devil

Across the night sky

A hero or a demon

Determined by the color

of the rain that drips from

His wounds.

Christine Ray writes for Brave and Reckless and The Whisper and The Roar and is a managing editor at Sudden Denouement.

S Francis writes for SailorPoet halfway across the globe

You’re a Very Tempting Man-Dori Owen

You’re a very tempting man

but I think I’m going to

turn you down this time


You see my heart is

far away with someone

who doesn’t

even know it’s there


I suppose that gives us

a commonality of sorts

two souls empty-handed

in things of love


It would be so easy

to say yes

I understand

your compelling why not

argument completely


But you are not me

the morning after

when my fingers

smell of you and

my heart aches for him


It’s just not worth

my time

my pretense

my disgust

my vow to say no next time


But you’re a very tempting man

and I think I’m going to

turn you down this time

Sudden Denouement welcomes Guest Blogger Dori Owen.  Dori is a storyteller, writing from small town Arizona, where she grew up, after living a few decades as an LA Wild Child. Her essays and poems have been published in RAW&UNFILTERED VOL I, StigmaFighters Vol 2, and Love Notes From Humanity. Her column, Diary of an Arizona Girl, can be found on FeminineCollective.com

Have You Ever Wanted to Be a Member of the Sudden Denouement or Secret First Draft Literary Collective?


Sudden Denouement Literary Collective and Secret First Draft are holding a joint Writing Contest in the month of March to elicit new writers for the Collective.

Writing Prompt: March Madness

Unpublished/Original work

Each entry should be more than 50 words but less than 500

Each writer may submit 1 to 3 (maximum) pieces of writing for consideration

Submissions will be accepted: 3/1/2017 through 3/31/2017

Full prize information to be announced soon!

1st Place Winner will be granted membership in the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective

2nd, 3rd and 4th Place Runners-ups will be granted membership in the Secret First Draft Collective.

Send your submissions with your name, your pen name (if applicable), the address for your blog and a short biography (1 to 3 sentences to): Suddendenouement@gmail.com

The Sudden Denouement Literary Collective and its sister sites Secret First Draft and The Whisper and The Roar are forums for divergent literature that we hope excite and challenge you.

The top three posts will be published on Sudden Denouement and the top five posts will be published on Secret First Draft.

Finalists will be contacted by Sudden Denouement no later than May 15, 2017.

One More Time-SRP

A Global Divergent Literary Collective

My heart is torn in two

it’ll eat you alive if you let it

let it take you

let it take you away

Within my dreams

it can drag you down if you let it

let it take you

let it take you away

All the lights have gone out

and a new day fades don’t forget it

it will take you

let it take you away

I had this dream where I fall

and I can’t get back up again

just acquaintances there

and nobody knows who you are

The dust on the floors have settled

to soot

it’ll swallow you whole and

you’ll never come back

you let it take you

take you away

you let it

don’t you

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Mechanized Paranoia

A Global Divergent Literary Collective

Digital positive from celluloid negative.

by pbbr

Everyone who passes me holds my life in their hands. I can’t stand to look at them but I do. Faces behind dirty windshields, eighteen wheelers and Volkswagens, minivans. They carry the lottery card that wins my violent death, each and every one of them. In their wallets, their purses, their consoles. Only one will be lucky enough to punch it. But which one? Was it him? Her?

Wrinkled faces, hackneyed brows and unshaven jowls, they mock me with moonslatted eyes. Drivers rocketing by in a blur. I only catch glimpses of them but they seem to know everything about me. They can smell my watery fear. I can tell by the way they catch my gaze, some lightly grinning, others drooling with murderlust. Stay in your lane. Please.

A twolane highway, a nighttime deathrow chamber, paved just for me. Guttural machines roaring. Mountain roads and overpasses, headlights…

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