Psychosis-Rachel Finch/Bruised But Not Broken

Rachel Finch awes me with her raw truth

Bruised But Not Broken

Mentally, I am far below the plane of my earthly existence. It’s been years since the abuse, yet it’s fresh in my face; unlaced.

The bold I held in me, far from view, my subconcious dragging the past into the present with nowhere to run.

I lay still, beside a body that will not wake, alone in the dark with nothing but my thoughts and the shadows.

I had buried his face, hidden it beneath who I had become, but he’d returned, uninvited, imposing on the Me i’d fought to be.

Trees rustle beyond layers of walls, the ones I built around myself at eight years old, the ones that house my body and my fear; brick invisibility.

It’s too early for the birds but i’m praying for their singing to fill the silence.

Panic creeps into my pores, stifling my breath, stiffening the body that’s stayed tense.

They tell…

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IN THIS LAND-Karem I. Barratt/Singing Heart

Singing Heart

@KaremIBarratt

Dedicated to the victims of Manchester and all the Britons affected by terrorism

Union-Jack

In this land of green valleys,

In this land of white faces,

And yellow and brown and

Pink and black, and hundreds

Of tongues, singing like birds

The stories of journeys that

Ended in this home,

In this land of tea and beer

And pubs, and curry and pizza

And sweet and sour pork, of

May poles and Chinese New Years,

In this land of bangles and boots

And flouncy dresses and green tattoos,

In this land of discontent at times

And silly football fights,

Of bookers and charity volunteers,

Of summer festivals in the mud

And druids around the Tor

And scientist writing their quantum

Music of the spheres, and robot and

Man muscling together to create a car

A train, a super plane, soon a rocket

To reach the heights where the stars

Of…

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Moon Ate the Dark Writing Prompt Challenge: Adil Rahim Hyder

The moon was very fond of eating the dark. It found a perverse pleasure in devouring large chunks of it whole but there was a case to be made for savouring each bite of blackness. Both ways of eating had their own pros and cons and, as it was, the moon felt slightly torn between the two forms of consumption. If it were to suck in a huge amount of shadows, pulling them forcefully away from the larger body of darkness, and stuff them into its crater of a mouth, there was a sudden burst of inky flavour that, though fleeting, gave the moon a few seconds of sensory overload that was a true delight. It would feel a fresh, cool sensation inside its core that was thoroughly refreshing but, alas, lasted only as long as it took for the shadows to be digested. On the other hand, if a smaller part of the body of shadows was carefully pulled away and laid to rest on the white craggy surface of the main crater, the moon could taste a much less sensually robust, but much longer lasting burst of darkness that did not have to be swallowed immediately into the core since it was much smaller and did not occlude the moon’s
major crater. Also, as the shadows slowly decompose inside the crater, they yielded more edge in their flavour since, as every culinarily skilled moon knows, a shadow is most tenebrous at its deepest layers. The moon loved the sudden but brief intoxication brought about by stuffing its crater but it had a certain fondness for the more leisurely escalation of sensory stimulation that was brought about by eating shadows in a more methodical and refined way. It was akin to the difference between plain whiskey and fine wine. Due to its resultant indecision, the moon preferred to alternate in between the two. The uninhibited, earthy cramming of shadows into the crater took only a short time to run its course; about one cycle around the sun. The more elegant, deliberate devouring of darkness took quite a bit longer. The eating of darkness was
the moon’s favourite hobby (of which the moon had admittedly very few of). One day, when the moon had just recently deposited a small amount of shadows into its main crater (the ends of which were still restless after being torn away from the larger collection), a small dirigible came and landed gently onto its surface. This had become a common occurrence of late, though the first time it had happened the moon had thought the ship was a more peculiar kind of shadow and tried to suck it in. It found to its surprise that the tiny thing with its angular sides and blazing red back moved too fast to be sucked in and contained within itself a company of miniscule beings that liked to jump around the moon and tour its surface, which amused it very much.
When that particular airship landed and it’s coterie of tiny beings finally came outside to frolic, they saw the darkness collected in the main crater and walked towards it. The moon had never observed anything mixing with its shadow samples before and was fascinated by the permutations of what was about to happen. If the shadows were lost, it would be very easy for it to replace them as this was a fairly new batch and had not decomposed down enough to be much of a waste of consumable darkness. The humans approached and, immediately, the loose tendrils of shadow that had been ripped apart from the greater assemblage of darkness made a grab for them and pulled them into the small sampling of shadow. It took a moment for it to collect all of the tiny beings in this way as some of them tried to run away on their adorably small lower appendages. However, none could escape and the moon was enraptured. A sun-cycle later when some of the flavour of the sample became ingestible by the core, the moon was left flabbergasted by the richness of the combination of tiny-being and shadow. It was
incredible and an entirely new delicacy. The moon had never before been on such a high. From that point on, whenever the moon saw the top of an airship become visible against the surface of the Earth, it made sure to prepare a sampling of shadow for the tiny beings to be able to see.
And inevitably approach.


Adil Rahim Hyder blogs at eyethebest

Dawn – Howl Davies

Completely flattered that I inspired the amazing Howl Davies to write this evocative haiku.

Sudden Denouement Literary Collective

[A note from Howl: Inspired by a piece of autobiographical haikus by Christine Ray of Brave & Reckless. She reminded me how fun haikus were, and how they’re a great solution to a full on creative block.]

I admire the way
the dawn rolls and recreates
adjacently blind

To the half-drunk boys
and the half-heartbroken girls,
trying to forget

The gristly encore
it’s delayed in its showing
yet it comes around

Not before a glimpse
of the spotlight matinee,
leCirque du Soleil,

Cleansing rituals
to please the gods of the day
to polish the soul

Justification
belongs in daylight, just as
transgressions, the night

And dawn pulls the rope
lifting curtains for each act
blind, deaf, and silent.


[Howl Davies is the ringleader at The Sounds Inside.]

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Midnight Precedes-OldePunk/RamJet Poetry & Christine Ray/Brave and Reckless

My latest collaborative poem with my dear friend and one of my favorite poets, OldePunk of RamJet Poetry. Published on Secret First Draft.

Secret First Draft: Member of the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective

Midnight precedes

The dawning of you

Shadows and peaches

Lavender and spices

Rare, honeyed tongue

Sings rapture

My soliloquy of you

Cool moonlight

Carves your shadow

Against stark walls

But you are smooth whiskey

Intoxicating to my parched soul

Cedar and pine

Warm earth against my skin

From earth it begins

Aquiline movements

Fostered by need

To travel without motion

Traverse the depths

Of the lilac and evergreen

Pools of your eyes

Sacred stolen hours

We claim as our own

We declare victory over the selfish god

Time

In this indigo night

Where everything that is not us

Drifts away

Like silver dust motes

Writ of passage into

The deep dark

Where our secrets

Are kept by the verdant

Grasses and tall oaks

Cottonwood blooms scent

The air of our bonding

We explore our mysteries

Your hands

Clasping mine

Ground me

Connect me

To where our souls and

Bodies entwine

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Issue 11, the Attraction Issue, is Now Available!

Very honored to have two of my poems published in the new issue of Felan along with fellow SD member Lois Linkens!

fēlan

We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming for a special announcement…

Issue 11 is here!!!

Get your copy here.

This issue was guest judged by Lisa W. Tetting and features the work of:

  • G. Manson
  • Hank Mattson
  • MiYoung Margolis
  • GJ Gillespie
  • GlitterCouch
  • Phillip T. Stephens
  • Sam Hafferty
  • Hildy Maze
  • Tom Dedola
  • Osalam Wosu
  • Terrie Rogers
  • Tania Gonzalez Ortega
  • J. David Liss
  • Stephen Thomas Roberts
  • Mark Taksa
  • Kayla Bashe
  • Meghan Hargaden
  • Flora Davis
  • Madison Wilson
  • SEIGAR
  • Caitlin Eagan
  • Dan Fraser
  • Sandip Saha
  • Lois E. Linkens
  • John Paul Gardner
  • yuan changing
  • Kingsley Nwaeke
  • Thomas Locicero
  • Marisha Thomas
  • John Grey
  • Edilson Afonso Ferreira
  • Roderick Bates
  • Anthony Acri
  • Maia Vivar
  • Ercan Sert
  • Christine Ray
  • izabella blue drayven
  • Lisa Mar

That’s 38 artists, 30 poems and 28 art works. It’s really worth checking out.

Check out the artist interviews, that will begin to post this coming Monday the 22nd, to learn more about the creators of issue 11.

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Something Wicked This Way Comes: Meet the New Secret First Draft!

Are you following Secret First Draft?

Secret First Draft: Member of the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective

Secret First Draft has a bold and edgy new look and is welcoming its  inaugural group of SFD Writer’s Collective Members this month:

1Wise-Woman of A Lion Sleeps in the Heart of the Brave

Oloriel Moonshadow of color me in cyanide and cherry

Aurora Phoenix of insights from inside

Hudson Biko Mwalagho of Piece by Piece HB

Christina Strigas of You can’t break up with a soul mate

Zelda Reville of Zelda Reville: A Sea of Illusions

This amazing group of writers will be contributing original content to SFD. SFD is also seeking guest bloggers to keep our content fresh and exciting.  We will also continue to bring you reblogs from the writers of Sudden Denouement, Secret First Draft, Whisper and the Roar and other divergent voices we think you will want to be reading.

If you are interested in becoming a member of SFD or contributing a guest writer contact the…

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SD now accepts guest-blog submissions

Sudden Denouement is accepting Guest Blog Submissions!

Sudden Denouement Literary Collective

While SDLC (who wants to type that all out, all the time?) can’t take on too many ‘official’ writers for the collective at a time, we are ALWAYS accepting submissions for guest blogs.  This is not a hit on an individuals writing ability, or their appeal — there just isn’t room, or not enough editors yet. 

SUBMISSION GUIDELINES

  • Make sure that the subject line reads: Guest blog: Name of poem. (Example: Guest blog: When I pee in the sea.)
  • Send up to 3 poems in either .rtf or .doc. attached to the email, to include a brief cover letter (example: Hello, my name is Charles Baudelaire! I love absinthe and dark corners, here are some of my poems!) Although we prefer unpublished, we will consider published work so long as it has ONLY been published on a blog. No e-zines, e-mags, e-presses, e-books, printed works.
  • Include a brief…

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In All That I Am – Nicole Lyons

Brilliant poetry by Nicole Lyons that resonates deeply in my soul.

The Lithium Chronicles

In All That I Am

If I could draw a blade across my wrist

to show you that my veins clog

with the sludge of ugliness, you would

never again ask me,

“Why are you so tired?”

If I could crack open my skull

to free my mind, you would

see that it is not splintered

by madness but rather patched

together with clarity, you would

never again ask me

to swallow poison.

If I could rip this body open

to show you the raw red wounds

that have been lashed onto my soul

by every inhumane atrocity

this world has endured, you would

never again ask me,

“Why are you so sad?”

Instead, your accusing eyes demand

simple words to simpler questions that

the simplest minds can process.

And in all that I am,

simple I am not.

© Nicole Lyons 2016

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