Black Dog

Mick Hugh/Mick’s Neon Fog

Mick's Neon Fog

I kept the blackout shades drawn tight, dim room. Dim city sounds through the walls, barely audible. Drowsy yellow light from my bedside lamp — it was a small room, filled with yellow uterine warmth. I had a bed, and a desk, I was very fortunate, I had a mini-fridge and a carpet and a TV. I had a roommate who had disappeared into the city, bingeing, and a rent check I couldn’t afford. The store I worked for was shutting down, a job I didn’t like, so I stayed home. I stayed home and let the lead weight of ending days creep closer unannounced. I bought a bag of pot, a case of beer, ordered fast-food to my door, and masturbated frequently. Everything I could ever want to watch was available for download illegally. I watched sci-fi space travels and sitcoms, teen dramas, found nostalgia in the old colors…

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Rapunzel Awakens the Rose

Allie Nelson/Dances With Tricksters

Dances with Tricksters

Sleeping Beauty has hair of roses, violet slumber
in an ivy tower encastled with cool granite, the
princess dreams of dragons and sword fights, some
penitent knight making a pilgrimage to her bedside
to kiss the princess of clouds and honey awake, but
instead of a gentleman caller amongst the briars,
in on a dappled horse comes riding a golden maid,
as the sun rises over the enchanted forest, Rapunzel
of the long-flowing locks loops her braid around the
windowsill, climbs with sinew and muscle in a pink
dress up to Sleeping Beauty’s bower, and Rapunzel
lowers orchid lips to that of her bosom beloveds –
a kiss is just a kiss, as time goes by, after all,
and who better to awaken a cursed girl than one that
forged her way out of yet another witch’s tower?
And so redhead and blonde go riding off into the
dawn, on…

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2020 – Aurora Phoenix

Aurora Phoenix/Blood Into Ink

Blood Into Ink

“things will be so much better then”

proclaimed the dying sage

her declaration sure and certain

how strong the words

belying the papery thinness

of her withering husk.

her whispers rattled as I

read them, steadying my shaky

heart, rapt across the miles.

i swiped backhanded at doubts

dripping wayward tears

mortified at my wet-noodled spine

she is tranquil in contemplation

of her death (permanent)

while i am moldering

rank and stagnant

in the aftermath of mine

(though my death was the temporary kind)

on that steel stool

in my concrete cage

better was beyond the ken

a theoretical construct

like relativity or the Big Bang

which i believe exists on an astral plane

other than where i reside, somewhere

  • out there

(though let me tell you about a Big ass Bang!)

yet she averred to me

hope and constancy

this woman wise and warm

from the glowing embers


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Not Even Tea

S.K. Nicholas/A Journal for Damned Lovers

S. K. Nicholas


I’m not a man. I’m not sure what I am, but it’s not a man. I’m just some kid who got lost along the way. Like that one in Flight of the Navigator when he fell down a hill and woke up after several years not having aged a day, or one of the Lost Boys, yeah, I’m a lost boy drifting like a dream on the outskirts of a drowning town that should’ve been put out of its misery years ago. I’m no more than a discarded shopping trolley left to sit and ponder what might have been in a parking lot home to rusting recycling bins and old mattresses dumped in the dead of night by travellers whose kids set light to cars in the early hours because that’s how they get their kicks. All those memories and near misses. All that dead skin and those suspicious stains…

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one more time

Olde Punk/RamJet Poetry

RamJet Poetry

one more time

i am corrosive fabulous

Satirically rich

endemic of impudence

praying in the ditch

to she who found the outbound

signal forward fallen back

into the times when we were alive

and fostered by the notions of the young

i miss that look in your eye

i know it will not spark anew

pontificate but do not preach

we’ve all driven down this road

indigo sky bursting open in the palm

of my hand as i face the same as ever was

but i am not who i used to be and so

everything has dimmed a little

i can see the rust and the dust

the wear and the tear

dents and bents and scratches

you could do with a new paint job

no longer enchanted by the luster

of soft manufactured values

muddled, befuddled, and caught in the last light

i didn’t remember your name

until the other night

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Jimmi Campkin

jimmi campkin


She’s like every autumnal daydream, but with hairier armpits and an infected toe.  The white bandage, yellowing in spots, pokes out like an eager tumour from open heels.  We walk hand in hand but yards apart, because I’ll interfere with her wings apparently…. oh fucking whatever, woman.  I roll my eyes so often I can feel Sisyphus struggling on my eyelashes.  On the bright side, we can swallow up a busy pavement, sending old people on mobility scooters into oncoming traffic; taking out little kids with no awareness of how hard two fists clamped together with love can be to break.

We eat ice cream in a seaside town, and she laughs at topless old men with pubes on their chest, skin peeling at the shoulders and scrags of chips in the nipples like savoury piercings.  We watch the gentle hiss of the sea as it approaches the bathers…

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Reasons for Admission

Henna Sjöblom/Murder Tramp Birthday

Murder Tramp Birthday


One. A dreary smile,
a promise hid between gritted teeth
obsessive compulsive tendencies,
unresponsive to logical arguments

Two. A stain under the mattress,
jelly-like mass transforming into larvae
crawling on my skin, kissing my elbows
while I stain the pillowcase
with foamy secretion

Three. I appear missing,
a joke lost in translation
from Swedish into ache
vällust and frosseri,
taking all I need,
ignoring lessons
learnt by pride
the same teacher who taught me
how to swing a bat.

Four. I throb and quiver.
The absence of you looks good on me.
My cheeks bulge and
my taste buds contract in anticipation;
There are worse things coming still.

Hey people, I’m not quite formally back from my hiatus, as my mental health requires most of my energy at the moment, but I thought I’d stop by to post this. Yeah. I guess I couldn’t resist.

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