[Art courtesy of @cypherchthonic]
The original vision for Sudden Denouement was a platform for divergent art. Literature will continue to be the focal point of SD, though we will be featuring artists who share the vision for pushing the boundaries of the status quo. We will be accepting submissions from visual artists. Any submissions should be sent to email@example.com. We can also be reached through DM at instagram.
Inspired body of work. Very exciting artist. Can be seen on Instagram @margolari16.
Today we announcing first of 5 photography contest finalists. The others will be announced and be narrowed to top 3.
[My name is Brad Skiff, and I travel the backroads of Eastern Washington State looking for abandoned farms and homesteads. I like to photograph my discoveries with an infrared filter on a Canon 70D.]
Christins Rusakova is a Russian poet. She can be found at instagram at Polunochnitsaaa.
TG and Whatsapp 89104341374
We are extending submission deadline upon request from several participants.
Submit photos to firstname.lastname@example.org
Through my nose,
I took everything I could
To make the ache
In my head stop
There were yellow whales
And pipers wearing polka dots
Pretending to be God
The devil held a sword
Like the archangel he was
And threatened the weather
Isn’t it something
When the thunder of a father
Is challenged by the tide of a son;
Yet free will bought mankind the moon?
I challenged traditional thought
By letting the animals in my stomach out
Vampires in white cloth told me my penance
Led to something called a blood clot
And every voice in the room
Sanctioned by love
Was suddenly divided
By their bindings to strength
That color matters
And that humanity classified everything
Including the intangibles
So we could create crowns
For crowded rooms
But when we simplified faith
We lost his name
And now his face only shows
In the most Ungodly Place(s)
Give me happiness or death
But dammit, let love rest
[Like most of us, Patrick draws most of his inspiration from his history. Through his writing, he seeks to dredge bodies from the dark pools of his mind, as much as he desires to describe and define what life is.
Patrick Hart is a transplanted South Georgian writer who originally hails from Hampton Roads Virginia. He currently serves in the United States Air Force, as an air traffic controller.
If he had to use one word to describe himself, it would be cerebral.]
Find more of Patrick’s work on Instagram and grab a copy of his stunning debut collection War Paint, published by RadPress Publishing
Sudden Denouement Publishing is celebrating the amazing book covers mad-talented graphic designer Mitch Green created for us with a special line of apparel and housewares now available at TeeSpring. Now you can sport your favorite book cover design wherever you go!
i have checked myself and seen that i am nothing;
the bones of poets gone and done
lay beneath the hills.
i put on my boots and took my shovel,
for to disturb them
would be a lesser crime than to ignore.
i checked myself
and saw that i was nothing;
i looked for art
and saw it slither into bank accounts in dead of night,
while the dewy brows of poverty’s poets
tremble in their plight.
i checked myself
and let myself stand up.
stand up, i said –
stand up, writers!
stand up for complexity, confusion and colour.
take your pennies and forget the pied pipers,
they have led naught but rats.
i saw the riches over realness,
splendour over solidarity…
i cried upon my pillow.
my people, my people!
when the muses so return, tell them why you wrote!
we not one of us free falls –
i checked myself…
something always had me.
[ Lois describes herself as a “confused english student,” though one quickly finds a polished, charming poet in her work. She has an elegant style that compliments her keen insight and whimsical sensibilities. It is a pleasure to present her work, and you can find more of it at Lois E. Linkins.]
I come alive
when I put my pen down
it’s all uncharted territory
obstruct my script
and honed inhibitions
ineligible to decipher
paralysis in my analysis
too far gone
in poetic nooks
inhaling the sustenance
of literary lore
when my fingers
relinquish their perch
click-clack pecking the keys
I lose my footing
skid and wander
bungled from gnarled
in a house of congress
barred from sapience
I am a refugee
in the allure
of a nom de guerre
[ A.G. Diedericks is a cinephile in the midst of being gentrified into a bibliophile.. Colonized by mediocrity; He moonlights as a clandestine writer. You’ll find him in a dark alley over at the cuckoo’s nest; where he often lays to rest in Cape Town, SA. ]
[Aurora Phoenix: I spent over 2 decades as a clinical psychologist, prior to the decimation of my world when I was suddenly incarcerated 2 and a half years ago. My writing was born in that caged existence – not a choice but a soul-saving necessity. I write as Aurora Phoenix at Insights from “Inside”]