Threnody- Diana Korlaet

some divinations in tea leaves dwell

but I prefer the delicate scatter

of incense flecks on rib curves, swell

the breath between gasp and ashen matter

..

furtively I reassemble the dissonant cinders

yet they meld in stubborn sapient array

the pattern sought, lady destiny hinders

granting one final passionate foray

..

each second embraces a hollow echo

our sighs shaped in somber elegy

lips lock, such a lacquered libretto

will to memory languish, lamentably

..

as eyes fire in this breath held night

we suppress the urge to weep, so fight

against the approaching call of light

then bid you farewell

sweet acolyte

 


Visit The Wandering Armadillo to read more of Diana’s writing

A Song of Experience- Nitin Lalit Murali

A lament rises from these dry bones, encased in
a coffin of a life gone by,
when I was young, my father the demon, said, ‘I am thine
and thou art mine,’ with a devilish, deceitful, duplicitous grin,
when I was young, my mother the angel said, ‘Stay strong and
surely, you’ll succeed,’ with a sincere, serene, simple smile,
when I was young, my brother, the stoic said, ‘Your scrimshawed
feelings are yours alone; don’t give them even a peak,
and definitely not a graze,’ with a stern, stubborn, sterile face,
when I was young, my sister,
the naïve said, ‘Yours is the world and all possibilities become
actualities if dreamt into existence,’
with an innocent, introspective, irreproachable charm,
when I was young, my lover,
the impassioned said, ‘Kiss me, you’re the heart of this (heart)
and soul of this (soul)
and never will I ever abandon all that’s you and I,’
with a feverish, furious, ferocious hold,
when I was young, my second lover, the kind said, ‘Paint the colors
of your heart on the canvas of
my being and grasp me tenderly under the sliced moonlight,’
with a peaceful, placid, peaceable touch.

Time drifts and I’ve drifted with it, but not elegantly.
Age carries, and I carry it, but not gracefully.
Life rises and falls, and books meet dust, and this room smells of mildew,
and by and by I’m fading, falling, slipping, sliding.

I’ve learnt much and seen so much more.
I’ve touched much and felt so much more.
I’ve tasted much and heard so much more.

Love eludes me now, whirling round and round, setting everything without on
fire with her dance, but never thawing the ice within.
Lust possesses me now, echoing and echoing, setting everything within on
fire with his voice, and ever thawing the ice without.

Cheap motel rooms and cigarettes; one-night stands and ashen hyacinths –
These I know, these I know, intimately and intensely.

Perfume and cascading hair, with eyes like brown tourmaline –
Her I’ve never kissed, her I’ve never kissed, intimately and intensely.

The smog rises and obscures my window, the world’s full of blurred
objects and abstract shapes, and a simulacrum of truth is all I know,
everything is now a hazy imagination, my vision’s blurred,
the smoke rises, and I exhale, the sharp liquor burns my throat,
a fatalist’s escape, and I know I need the real, but I also know
I want my delusion.

A lament rises from these dry bones, encased in
a coffin of a life gone by,
now that I’m older, I say, ‘Life and death sing the same song in the
same key to the same wind, and what happened will happen again,
and there’s nothing I can do but cut through weeds of paranoia,
despair and angst, knowing I’ll never fully heal.’

© Nitin Lalit Murali (2018)

Read more of Nitin’s writing at Fighting the Dying Light

G E M I N I- Eli Kyoko

You say, my newborn face dwells only in the frames of your ancient house,

and my purity was left in my mother’s womb and arms

So now, you try to cleanse me with your precious soap,

Scour… Scrub… Rub…

and then you conceal me with lotion, some powder, more perfume!

And yet some more, make me sore

Chafed. Excoriated. Distorted.

But I am the one who chokes on all the bitter pills you have to swallow

I am the one who burns your cigarettes as I varnish your thoughts,

and engrave your soul within my poetry

whilst you hide along its dusky alley

I am the one who can assemble your back like a jigsaw puzzle

I know your true colors, your soft spots

I know how to get you down on your knees

I know how we collide in the dark

For I’ve memorized the pieces and the layers of you,

and I’ve traveled the twisted lines on your spine too

I reside within your core, within the crevices of your bones

I am the scabs on your wounds, the callus on your fingers, the dust in your hair,

your best keeper

I am your shadows and I linger like the smell of cigarettes on your damp skin

Oh, my dearest self!

Stop excavating your flesh for my corpse

‘Cause I’m never ever gonna be away,

So—

Eat me whole.


Read more of Eli’s writing at Moonlit Pieces

Blood Moon- Diana Korlaet

the Sea of Tranquility

named by an imaginative soul

yet not a sea at all

a burnished, basalt hole

sunken eye watching humanity toil

a pockmarked director of tides

conducting diurnal rhythm

as we squander, as we spoil

heavenly, cyclic conductor

my monthly crimson hymn

whispers to your balsamic phase

 a veiled face reflecting

in your lakes of saturnine solitude, of sorrow

floating weightless in Mare Fucunditatis

childless in my ferrous scented tomorrow

 

Visit The Wandering Armadillo to read more of Diana’s writing

Out In The Cold- Eli Kyoko

I wore your hat to protect my head
from the debris falling from our family tree
but the spilling blues and red,
lumps the purple on my skin
The invisible scars, the indelible tints
Throbs and thumps within
‘Cause father, when you left
I saw how mother went out in the cold
gasping for life, bereft
She wore my hug to warm her skin, to endure your sin
I caught the cerulean falling stars from her cheeks
and wished for a warmer tomorrow
The bleak moonbeams break
I held the fragments of her soul harrowed
Saturated, dispersed
The sky was disintegrating on our bodies,
perforating our flesh, dilapidating our minds
And everyday I drink mother’s whines
‘Cause father, when you left
I was out in the cold like her
I was my mother, I was a seeker
My soul traversed through the mists,
with your love’s empty fists
I found solace in the flickering light of a melting house, a melting wax
And there I dipped my nib
I sipped catharsis, I sipped relief
And then the pain of you spewed
An icy mountain of desires formed somewhere
I know, you were once there
Now, a part of us is still out in the cold
But my love’s unceasing and my heart shall remain as bold


Read more of Eli’s writing at Moonlit Pieces

Written in the Conditional Tense

What if, this time, he doesn’t come back?

Maybe it’s better like that.

Here is a picture of me washing

the dishes alone, my dog waiting

half the time and watching out the window

No one to hold my hand

at poetry readings

no one capturing

any passing moment

with his old fashioned, complex

video camera on the tripod.

 

No omelettes for dinner

and no fresh flowers.

no dates to the dog park

 

and where i was whole before,

just a fraction

and an unwillingness

to share myself ever again.

 

 

Play Dead – Introducing Kristiana Reed

Monster is living inside of me

behind my ribcage,

she curls herself around my spine

draws her fingers to my throat

to stroke my collarbone,

to deliver raspy breath to my ear

repeating the words

on which I always choke –

my name, my wants, my needs,

my apologies, my fury –

and the dust from the bones

she’s grinding with a gummy jaw.

 

Sometimes she sinks down

to bask in the darkness of my womb,

recline in my pelvis

and drag her nails up my thighs

and down my calves, towards my feet

where she binds me with manacles,

shrieking maniacally

words garbled with my sins –

breathing, praying, hoping,

talking, waiting –

for this torture to end,

for Monster living in my head

and the hollows of my heart,

to vanish and leave me

to play dead.


Kristiana Reed day dreams, people watches in coffee shops, teaches English and writes. She is a curator on Blood into Ink, a collective member of The Whisper and the Roar and blogs at My Screaming Twenties. She is 24 and is enjoying the journey which is finding her voice.