Hush Cover Reveal-Nicole Lyons/The Lithium Chronicles

The Lithium Chronicles

HUSH written by Nicole Lyons, is a searing collection of poems that takes the reader on an emotional ride, through the tunnel of mental illness and reckless love.

Nicole Lyons’ voice undulates from pain to ecstasy, at breakneck speed. Erotic, soulful and authentic, Nicole has written a raw memoir encapsulated in poems. Stepping off the cliff, delving into HUSH, readers will find themselves breathless and wanting more. -Julie Anderson



The first book from Nicole Lyons is now available for Preorder.
Her new gorgeous softcover book is full of Nicole Lyons’ famous heart moving poetry. Order your copy today to guarantee you’ll receive one of her collectible first editions.
Preorder Price $14.99 plus shipping
Release Date: April 18
Reserve Your Copy HERE Today!

Hush cover design: Sherri Smith
Hush cover model: Julie Anderson
Hush cover photo: Paul Empson Photography

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Constellations of Oblivion-Mick Hugh/Mick’s Neon Fog

Mick's Neon Fog

There is blackness shattered in the cracks of the small bare-wall room. Puke on the throw rug bought at Target left sitting for three days straight. The wracking of the nerves leaves shuddering on the bed the infant who tried to escape their fate by running for his god damned life, halfway across the continent to a city raw with beggars and transient thieves in the night. There is no woman here; there is no mother. There is nothing here but an empty desk and a waste-basket filled with ashes of a life of peace disregarded – contentment discarded, illusory harmony torn at the seams of the suit jacket and college degree: there are no Bachelor’s here, no dreams of vacations in Caribbean seas or the totalitarian pistons that deliver by degrees, the consumer success your privilege had blessed as something you could accomplish with ease.

Here there is darkness.

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St. Terez-OldePunk/RamJet Poetry

RamJet Poetry


Spit and lift

paint runes of negligence upon my brow

careful not to touch me

it would bely the resolution

of justice

A fallacy, a pretense

a cry for help

holding dreams in a sandbox

callous winds peeling skin

a rictus greets you

stand in line and bide your time

losing place

choosing face

kill and atone

kaleidoscope convalescent

watching form shift to motion

picturing Picasso

picturesque distortion of pictures

draw the short straw

a lottery for the short-changed

walking into damnation

whistling the tune almost remembered

like a drop of water on parched throat

or opioid peace for shattered mind

silver patients await creation

blind with eyes open

seeing with eyes closed

Jesus saves souls

and redeems them for valuable prizes

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Scar Crossing-Stephanie Bennett-Henry & Nicole Lyons /The Lithium Chronicles

The Lithium Chronicles


I am who I am
and I make no apologies.
My soul has always been
from another place,
where hearts are seen
and scars are shared.
There’s another world
somewhere waiting for me.
I hear it calling in my dreams;
it’s calling me home.
I run towards the voices,
the hearts, the scars,
until I’m almost there
to feel the sweetness
of a home like that,
and I wake up
just before I touch it.
I tell myself,
that world isn’t ready for me
yet, but one day
I will make a blazing entrance,
and when I do,
my heart will finally be seen
for what it is;
galaxies and all.

© Stephanie Bennett-Henry 2017

Moon child with
your galaxy heart,
cool your heels
and stay awhile.
I see you
in this little place
and I think perhaps
it was born of you too.
I see you
and I hear…

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Pool Party – Jasper Kerkau

The Writings of Jasper Kerkau


At some point, towards the end of the night, I get into the pool with my clothes on. Adults are on the patio talking in hushed tones about divorce and lost nights from the early-nineties. Kids laugh and squeal, chasing each other through the house and around the pool. I hold my breath and float to the bottom, thinking of the mess I have to clean up. My life is falling apart. I gave my debit card for someone to get orange juice an hour ago. I ponder this and pull myself back up and repeat the process several times meditating on the mess, the residue from ribs, beer bottles, mistakes, dead ends. Eventually I sit on the edge of the pool and try to light a cigarette. My fingers are wet. The cigarette breaks. My f’ing luck!  My son waves with a big smile, he is elated. I love…

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Trust-Max Meunier

Max Meunier

i have spun this web
with words unsaid
upon a bed of sorrow

love ne’er ebbs
though in her stead
i dread to face
the wakeless morrow

broken vows of death’s departing
spoken with a silver tongue

cloaked in shards
from shattered hearts
enshrouded by the blackened sun

seconds fall at fevered pace
as life does from this land of lust

where all intentions turn to waste
and hurt is what we earn for trusting

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Splatters-Georgia Park/Private Bad Thoughts

I am a poet! I am. I am. I am a poet, I reaffirmed, ashamed.

Blood really shows up well
in blonde hair
its a stark contrast
and looks sort of pink

blood really compliments

 white skin

until it cakes like mud
and flecks across
like freckles dancing

Blood really sinks in well
to hotel carpets
once you spill it
you have to wonder
how many times
this has happened
what kind of
cleaning supplies
are in their closet

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