Red Tides – Christine E. Ray

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blue and white capsules
ingested daily
devour my melancholy, baby
always ravenous
unsatisfied
they strip protective coating
off vulnerable neurons
leaving them raw
excitable
the faintest whisper
or intimation
that I fail to please
am not enough
makes irritation rise a
red tide
up my spinal column
forcing fluid rage
into hollows
ossification has crudely
carved into each
vertebrae
stiff-backed
bristling
lupine claws extend
gruff growl grows
low in my throat
and I am prepared
in that heartbeat
to shred tender flesh-
yours or mine-
clean to the bone


You can find Christine lurking about Brave and Reckless and Indie Blu(e) Publishing.  She is the author of Composition of a Woman and The Myths of Girlhood.

Hiroshima Hentai- Henna Sjöblom/Murder Tramp Birthday

It’s tasteless, you said
erasing my search history.
I said I’ll do whatever it takes
to end this war.

Physically impossible?
Well honey,
that’s what they said about the atomic bomb.

I dream of a girl on a meadow
her face melting into purple wax
and cherries and brain-matter, meringue on top.
Shame breeds desperation breeds loosened morals and
Little Boys
causing trouble.

Basking in the afterglow,
I wipe the radiation from my face.
Through the walls of the shelter,
I still hear them scream
wishing for a white-hot impact,
waiting for their time to burn.


Henna Sjöblom,  the goth girl next-door. Aspiring author. Monstrophile. Horror enthusiast. She writes to cope with mental illness and everyday experiences. Find her at Murder Tramp Birthday

Introducing Aurora Phoenix – ‘The Uprising’

there is a primal roar

building within her

founded on the

atoms of dirt

scrounged by grappling-hooked toes

scavenging salvation

from precipice’s

teetering edge

as they curled

in orgasmic throes

of borrowed ecstasy

 

the rumble surges

up exasperated tendons

above scabbed knees

upon which they forced her

failed to keep her

despite repeated bloody

bludgeonings

 

the portending implosion

reverberates cataclysmic

through hallowed

and maligned walls

of her invaded

as yet unvanquished

vagina

 

the latent blast

rises roiling

beyond belly churning

beset with tormented butterflies

swallowed under duress

with teaspoonfuls of shame

taking her medicine

 

the gathering blast

trembles with the

accumulated heartaches

of feminine generations

spasms aortically

spurting crimson

crushed inequities

 

the impending cosmic levitation

upends flustered follicles

as lightening

bolts of righteous rage

flash incendiary shafts

from eyes and lips and tongue

 

the lacerating howl

tears her asunder

unleashes her tether

to a byzantine past

shreds constraints

denudes her quivering

purest soul

 

 


[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”]

Nobody Screams – SRP

sick of all of the apologies

i can’t read anymore

of the rhetoric

cause it started to make me sick

guess I’m just another lunatic

start to smoke 

but then i quit

started posing

now I’m bored

I’m too old to give a shit

pretend not to notice

and have a fit

another spineless hypocrite

i don’t know if anyone listens

maybe nobody even listens

i don’t mind if anyone cares

i don’t believe in all the lameness

unsubscribe to all

the bullshit

clean up my act

&learn how to 

smile

just another handshake scene

i get lost in the dream

wish it was mostly make believe

stabbed in the back

nobody screams


[SRP is a co-creator of Sudden Denouement and driving force in the collective. He is a musician, a writer, and a friend.]

Oscar Wilde Is Back/David Lohrey

At all costs, be nice.

Your job is to make people feel good.

You’re a defender of the status quo.

You agree with Stalin:

everyone should be happy.

The first to stop smiling gets the axe.

The first to stop clapping, disappears.

What’s all this doom and gloom?

The Democrats are the party of good cheer.

The Republicans represent darkness.

Oscar Wilde – were he alive – would be

easy to place; he never had anything nice to say.

We know what he represented. We

don’t need to read his stories.

His books don’t deserve reprinting.

Take them out of circulation. I’ve got it:

let’s distribute the works of a dedicated progressive

instead: Obama’s memoirs along with the yellow pages.

We’ll make them mandatory reading, like

Slaughter-House Five for incoming freshmen.

We’ll not only not read Oscar Wilde, we’ll

arrest those who try to keep him in print.

We’ll listen in on their conversations. We’ll

have anyone who looks unhappy picked up,

anyone who’s not delighted, arrested. Progressives

are happy. We’ll make sadness against the law,

beginning with Mr. Wilde, who was a notorious complainer.

He demanded a dialogue when we know

happy people prefer to talk to themselves.

Saul Bellow said that: an unbroken record,

an incantation of jolly thoughts, a forced smile,

or even a perpetual dance fits democracy best.

Wilde dared to ask for open

discussion. He wanted the young

to think and debate; he spoke

like a Sophist; every student of Plato knows there’s

only one truth. Our professors know a thing or two,

beginning with the desire to see Wilde banned.

Let’s drive him off. Hell, we’ll

put him in prison, once we

deprive him of a living. The

editors at Simon & Schuster should

be picked up, too. At least they deserve

to be boycotted and picketed – driven out of business,

for daring to give freedom a greenlight, for

giving that faggot an open mic.

He says he’d be happier in prison anyway, so let’s do

him the favor. We’ll make dialogue against the law,

not just a forbidden custom, like masturbation. We’ll censor

discordant voices. We’ll start with that loudmouth from England.

We’ll get him off television and run reruns of Downton

Abbey for Anglophiles, something wholesome about

heterosexual families, not a vile-mouthed homo spouting trash,

like his hatred of conformity and political correctness.

Who the fuck does this guy think he is?


[David Lohrey was born on the Hudson River but grew up on the Mississippi in Memphis. He currently teaches in Tokyo. He has reviewed books for The Los Angeles Times and The Orange County Register, has been a member of the Dramatists Guild in New York, and is currently writing a memoir of his years living on the Persian Gulf. Also, he’s freakin’ awesome.]

HUSH By Nicole Lyons

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

hush-white-final.jpg

 HUSH

The first book from Nicole Lyons is now available here.

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


You can read a glowing review by Jasper Kerkau here, and if you’re interested in reading some of the galaxy’s most liberating, moving words, I recommend that you follow the amazon link above. Nicole Lyons is the creatrix of The Lithium Chronicles, as well as being a consulting editor and writer at Sudden Denouement.

 


 

Oscar Wilde Is Back/David Lohrey

At all costs, be nice.

Your job is to make people feel good.

You’re a defender of the status quo.

You agree with Stalin:

everyone should be happy.

The first to stop smiling gets the axe.

The first to stop clapping, disappears.

What’s all this doom and gloom?

The Democrats are the party of good cheer.

The Republicans represent darkness.

Oscar Wilde – were he alive – would be

easy to place; he never had anything nice to say.

 

We know what he represented. We

don’t need to read his stories.

His books don’t deserve reprinting.

Take them out of circulation. I’ve got it:

let’s distribute the works of a dedicated progressive

instead: Obama’s memoirs along with the yellow pages.

We’ll make them mandatory reading, like

Slaughter-House Five for incoming freshmen.

We’ll not only not read Oscar Wilde, we’ll

arrest those who try to keep him in print.

We’ll listen in on their conversations. We’ll

have anyone who looks unhappy picked up,

anyone who’s not delighted, arrested. Progressives

are happy. We’ll make sadness against the law,

beginning with Mr. Wilde, who was a notorious complainer.

He demanded a dialogue when we know

happy people prefer to talk to themselves.

Saul Bellow said that: an unbroken record,

an incantation of jolly thoughts, a forced smile,

or even a perpetual dance fits democracy best.

 

Wilde dared to ask for open

discussion. He wanted the young

to think and debate; he spoke

like a Sophist; every student of Plato knows there’s

only one truth. Our professors know a thing or two,

beginning with the desire to see Wilde banned.

Let’s drive him off. Hell, we’ll

put him in prison, once we

deprive him of a living. The

editors at Simon & Schuster should

be picked up, too. At least they deserve

to be boycotted and picketed – driven out of business,

for daring to give freedom a greenlight, for

giving that faggot an open mic.

 

He says he’d be happier in prison anyway, so let’s do

him the favor. We’ll make dialogue against the law,

not just a forbidden custom, like masturbation. We’ll censor

discordant voices. We’ll start with that loudmouth from England.

We’ll get him off television and run reruns of Downton

Abbey for Anglophiles, something wholesome about

heterosexual families, not a vile-mouthed homo spouting trash,

like his hatred of conformity and political correctness.

Who the fuck does this guy think he is?


[David Lohrey was born on the Hudson River but grew up on the Mississippi in Memphis. He currently teaches in Tokyo. He has reviewed books for The Los Angeles Times and The Orange County Register, has been a member of the Dramatists Guild in New York, and is currently writing a memoir of his years living on the Persian Gulf. Also, he’s freakin’ awesome.]

Running in a Wedding Dress-Georgia Park/Private Bad Thoughts

Coverage of the election gives me

Orwellian style nightmares

we are separated by metal rods

and bars of water,

we are submerged in cages

on the way to

the quarantine zone,

which try as it might

is tasteless

 

Each day, there’s a new exhibit

on Wednesday,

when we are admitted

into the long hallway

for the movie screening,

it’s a tacky abstract.

Two days later, when we exit:

Thursday’s is a row of severed hands

Friday’s is a stock photo of a woman

running in a wedding dress

 

I wake up and know

we are all married to this man

and there will be no turning back

i wake up and I try to go back

to dreaming again


[Georgia Park is creator of Private Bad Thoughts, curator of Whisper and the Roar a feminist literary collective, and a writer for Sudden Denouement. She is a wonderful poet with an enormous heart. We can’t imagine this journey without her. Please check out more of her wonderful work.]

A DECADE OF SOLITUDE-Rana Kelly/ 2nd star to the Left, straight on ’til morning

 

Almost a decade

 

Of desolation and disguise.

 

Of loneliness and downcast eyes.

 

My spine was pulled

 

Out of my mad mouth

 

And I laid there breathless

 

For this eternity.

 

Fear of the enemy

 

Pushed me to soliloquy

 

For an eternity

 

Of my wolves hunted

 

And fresh hell.

 

I walk forward over water

 

Washed clean of your sickness

 

You cannot kick me

 

In the guts again.

 

I will rise

 

And eat your face

 

Shred your skin

 

And walk westward

 

Crushing your setting sun.


[Rana Kelly was born and raised in the Deep South, and now resides in the Southwest.  Her poetry, personal essays, short fiction, and photography has been published in anthologies and literary magazines far and wide over the years, from Caesura to featherproof press, FM to Ceremony Collected. Her first novel, Until Her Darkness Goes, was published in 2015. She’s currently writing her second novel under a pseudonym.]

Eating Away to the Bone – SRP


stick to yourself afraid of what could happen

 

when I’m cornered

 

what i may do

 

scared of what you make me do

 

the things I’ve done

 

the things I’ve said

 

why does it always end this way

 

why does it have to be so sad

 

why do i hurt so bad

 

eating myself from the inside out

 

black cancer growing inside of me 

 

i feel less everyday

 

numb

 

nothings shocking anymore

 

exhausted i havent slept for days

 

deprivation

 

self loathing

 

all day

 

every day

 

never ending


[SRP is a co-creator of Sudden Denouement and driving force in the collective. He is a musician, a writer, and a friend.]