BRIMFUL OF GRIM 2 – Collaboration – A.G. Diedericks & Kindra M. Austin

He is the rain on a cold grey day—

the arthritis that ravages my bones

and when he breathes, it’s a Nor’easter wind—

I’m blown apart; shattered;

scattered; kicked about like autumn leaves,

dead

 

Unwritten letters from our post-mortem breathe life into her apparition

Like the weather; she returns to season fresh wounds

Blood pressure tantamount to a volcanic mountain; she hikes my temperature

 

Fuego, fuego! I give him fever; raze his green earth

while he does freeze mine

I exhale phantoms in billowing bursts

and weep for the fugitive memories

 

Her frosted ribcage collides with the arson in my heart; two souls, cremated

We paint every town red;

Ours is a match that burns all bridges

We’re on a road to revive the great depression

 

Ghouls are we without restitution—

to Hell with intuition

Gods warring are we without resolution—

fuck the institution

 

I suck on his brimstone,

a brimful of grim, and he grins with Cheshire teeth

tucked tightly in his head

 

With us there’s no cease fire; no coalition

Be it life or death, our ashes will always blow in the same direction


 

[ This piece is the conclusion to Brimful of Grim, Part 1. ]

 


 

A.G. Diedericks is the groundskeeper of Morality Park, where he lures in lost souls. ]

Kindra M. Austin is an author (information on her book can be found here), artist, and a Sagittarius Valkyrie from the state of Michigan—Go Detroit Red Wings! She likes her drinks corpse stiff, music loud as fuck, and classic big block muscle cars. You can find her filing through the souls of the slain at poems and paragraphs.]

 

Suckerpunch, the Second Coming – Henna Sjöblom

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Have you ever tasted true revenge?
Ever feared the loss of a wound more sacred
than the hollowed out palms of Christ?

I’ll tell you, I dip my knuckles in holy water after each defeat,
so that soon my skin will be impenetrable. I charge my gun with self-pity,
coat my blade with spite.
Don’t talk to me, I grin.
I am self-destructive.

Don’t get me wrong.
I’m not stigmatizing, and I can’t be a martyr, as I never bowed to anyone.
Who the fuck set the rules anyway?
I’m a bloody artist, displaying slashes as exhibits in a showcase,
and I take pride in my performance,
but presenting wounds won’t omit the truth,
and the truth is
I’ve never felt better

Than the night I woke up in the hospital,
screaming,
chains rattling around my wrists.
Nurses with faces made of paint scrapers.
Is that what I am?
An exhibit
in need of restoration?
Or the answer to the sarcastic questions
generally asked by horny men around their 50’s?

I’ll tell you what I am.
I am too big for this place.
Acid-tripping deicide angel,
fast-forwarding trough my own rapture.
Unashamed,
unrefined,
I am what mourning widows sing of
on their way to the gallows pole.
We’re the girls that already died once.
We don’t need anyone else.

 

[Murder Tramp Birthday, previously Malicia Frost, dropped the disguise and is now publishing under her real name on SD. A hobbyist writer and an aspiring novelist from Finland, she enjoys surrealism, sci-fi and horror, and her works often deal with mental illness. More of her works can be found at her personal blog.]

The Fermi Paradox Revisited – Henna Sjöblom

strangers_in_the_night_by_marrrakesh

 

fermi1

I had a panic attack in the street once.
I couldn’t go home, so
I just sat on the ground, screaming,
my makeup smeared all over my face, my nose blazing red like Rudolph the Reindeer’s, and the sounds erupting from my mouth were not some modest sniffles or erotic sighs, but hideous, wet gargles as of a jellyfish being dropped into a juice blender.

fermi2

fermi3

No one would look at me.
Everyone passed by in a hurry, acting as if I was a spot on their retina, a threat to the orderly society. The madness that lures behind the corner as we sit crouched in silence, pondering the significance of emphatic connection

fermi4

Stuck on the wrong frequency
I adjust my vocal chords again
humming sweet nothings into the radio transmitter
A distress-call from a dying race

fermi5

Knowledge of our ultimate uselessness
has been a splinter dug into my backbone, ticking in dissonance with my pulse
fermi6
I reach my slashed wrists out to grab a corner of your coat
Please, sir! If you think I’m good, let me know now, I won’t last very long
supernovae burn too bright and fade too soon
bringing entire galaxies down with them

fermi7

I see you walk by as I peek out trough the window blinds,
(your greasy hair flapping against your neck
your cheeks fat with self-righteousness)
and after all of this,
all I can think is
who the fuck were you to me?
There’s no intergalactic rescue service
coming to our aid when we abandon our ideals and give up on adoration
how could we obtain the interest of an extraterrestrial life form
when we don’t even bother to try and understand each other?
to sate my cosmic homesickness
I turn to the faces of passers-by
but their distrait eyes only reflect what I already know

fermi8

 

 

[Murder Tramp Birthday, previously Malicia Frost, dropped the disguise and is now publishing under her real name on SD. A hobbyist writer and an aspiring novelist from Finland, she enjoys surrealism, sci-fi and horror, and her works often deal with mental illness. More of her works can be found at her personal blog.]

Morality Park – A.G. Diedericks

Welcome to Morality Park
where sleeping dogs bark
and never lie
Where the fire in our hearts combust the torch of Lady Liberty
With flames that will enlighten
your misconceptions
We are the Arsonists
and tonight,
We will conflagrate the patriarchy!

Do not think us unkind
If you tell us
It’s just inside our mind
We’ll write you
a benevolent epitaph
whilst an empath
runs you a crimson bath

Mad Men tried to contain
the mosaic fragments of our delirium
inside prosaic bottles of lithium;
bereft of clarity
and dressed in normality

Restless sanity
Uncaged anxiety
with legislative amnesty
to fluctuate, and Soar
High, on top of the See-saw

In Morality Park;
There are no grey areas!
Yes, I’m talking to you rapists
You, who said you misread her signals
We’ll hang you by the wrong head
and blame it on a typo
from the judge’s sentence

We, the hypochondriacs
of your fake news
Are your greatest misdiagnosis
Sorry Ramones,
But we’ll no longer be sedated
We are the minority
that will parallel park
on your authority
If you get in our space
We’ll be the “What The FUCK?!”
That will remain on your face


 

A.G. Diedericks is the groundskeeper of Morality Park, where he lures in lost souls. ]

‘Nevertheless, She Persisted’: A Shield Maiden Collaboration

1Wise-Woman

Her words, her will, her worth
Trampled and trodden
Forgotten
But for her
Flickering light
Fueled by ferocity
Molded with might
Courage compiled
Resilience reconciled
Wolves wryly grin
Circling again
Nevertheless, she persisted

 

Christine Ray

She was told little girls
should be seen, not heard
but silence was suffocating
truth twisted in her stomach
razor sharp
when her voice finally rose
from a whisper
to a roar
they tried to drown her out
their indignation a cacophony
Nevertheless, she persisted

 

Aurora Phoenix

her initial protestations
propelled by burning bile
bubbling pique
in a voice squeaky
with disuse
were dubbed whining
she scrubbed corrosion
from rusted tongue
flexed, strengthening
articulate exclamation
strident
castrating
they proclaimed her
nevertheless, she persisted

 

Kindra M. Austin

Disregard your heart, they said
Faith is for the fools
Chasing gold; bold are the weak
Dream seekers
Dreams don’t raise children
Nevertheless, she persisted

 

Sarah Doughty

Silence was her solace,
the stillness of the night,
the calm before the storm.
Her voice, long since stifled.
Her body, long since defiled.
But they never broke her spirit.
Nevertheless, she persisted.


 

[‘Shield Maiden‘ is the name adopted by these wonderful women, who are also members of Blood Into Ink Click their names for more information on the individual writers.]

Fall Flings – Aurora Phoenix

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Fall Flings – Aurora Phoenix

autumn
fickle lover
you tease an aging summer
fill her weary lungs
with the heated breath
of your lost abandon
toss your fiery colors
crinkled casts
of your passionate embrace
at the feet of her sun-soaked journey –
gold threaded vermillion carpets
cushion the heartache
of her grand exit.
your fingerling breezes
caress her flushed brow
dapple sour apple kisses
upon bronzed shoulders
stencil erotic promises
beneath the sinews
of her marching thighs.

autumn
tantric temptress
you entice a nubile winter
fill his cavernous pockets
with polished talismans
of your smoke- breathed vitality
denude yourself of finery
an offbeat up-tempo
strip tease
shivering limbs outstretched
quivering in anticipation
of a lovers’ blanketing.
your razor nailed gusts
race in vixen bursts
grazing his arched spine
entice his withered furor
with amber beams
of half hooded coquetry
lingering languid
upon the clouded steel
of his stealthy advance.

[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”]

Sudden Denouement Publishing: Nicole Lyons – I Am World Of Uncertainties Disguised As A Girl

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Sudden Denouement Publishing: Nicole Lyons – I Am A World Of Uncertainties Disguised As A Girl

Forthcoming