This blog is a dedicated space for poets of all kinds. Our aim is to share the work of those hidden in the writing community and of course some from our favourites. We try to find new talent, as all of the staff members have different, diverse taste. Thank you for visiting -- Let the inspiration flow.
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Ten.
I am a clock bending away
losing hours as they tick from the face
to the floor, dropping numbers like water
or the shattering glass as it goes just
one
more
second
without you to twist it back
again.
I am a book with no last page
having burnt away in the fire of fingertips
blazing with slicing eyes to feed the frenzy
and taking no caution to the details
that
form
worlds
without you needing to exist
anymore.
(Source: sheddinpetals)
36 
o O
O oHer tears are sweet and blue -
frosty, misty, navy blue
Tonight, her knees are scraped maroon
And so, blueberry water streams down in diamond drops
from two magma lakes - her lava-lamp-like eyesHer lips have tasted ashes
They have tasted the sugarless cherry pies -
the boys with blood-red jelly hearts
and leather-bound lies,
dark, dark, tough lies - boys bound to dieIn the morning, her tears are dried
by see-through fingers - the ghosts in her hands
Stains glisten on her cheeks; magenta violet
Blueberry tears were smashed with such violence
& the memories flicker in her heart the best they canA bat with amethyst wings flies out of her chest tonight
and the sorrow seeps out - a sigh of relief
Yet she cries some more,
but now the tears are sane - crystal clear
A new-found sereneIt’s amazing what a good cry can do
o O
O o
11 my breastbones are perched on lungs,
ready to fly away,
distengrate;
I might just
let them.
sleep slips into us like a boat, and cuts a path we walk on with tremorous feet.
watch me, watch me,
watch as my arms stroke and cut into glass water
and how it cuts my arms too, watch the blood crawling towards my hands.
I want these to end but I need sleep
and so I swim in black waters
and let them wrap their arms round my legs,
pull me further, and further,
as I leak red.
they told me to count my fingers and open doors with my eyes first.
“watch me, watch me,
watch how I cut into my dreams like they were glass
and I sauter all the cruelest bits together.
better to carry them on my back,
better to shatter them all at once”
and they slice memories into your skin—
but you leak oxygen.
five fingers, each hand.
my bedroom is bright and clear,
unfamiliar, but perfect.
Yasmin’s note: She always has the best imagery.
15
by Courtney Atlas
Inspirational Quote 1:
Remember that guy in college, Ethan or David or something, who guzzled a handle of McCormick vodka after finals and unconsciously vomited stomach acid all over his girlfriend’s shoes, so you rolled him into your buddy’s Ford Explorer and took him to the hospital? It may not have killed him, but his liver, outstanding hospital bill, and resulting stomach ulcer sure as fuck aren’t thanking him for the “tough love” stunt he pulled on them that night.
Also, cancer.
Inspirational Quote 2:
Yeah? Try this one on for size, shitheads:
As much as I’d love to have several thousand degrees Fahrenheit coursing through my body, I’ll stay the fuck away from dancing in storms. But you kids go have fun; living out your inspired life as an electrocuted corpse in a box afterwards may prove difficult, though.
Inspirational Quote 3:
Whisper a wish to a butterfly and it will go on being a butterfly that gives zero shits about your wishes because It. Is. A. Fucking. Butterfly.
Inspirational Quote 4:
Here are several people who took this spectacular advice:
Hansel and Gretel
Natalee Holloway
Every hiker eaten by a bear
Amelia Earhart
Have you never seen Wrong Turn? Hang onto that map, you irresponsible dumbass. Or at least take your iPhone along with you. There is nothing “wonderful” about abduction and/or hillbilly rape.
Inspirational Quote 5:
How sweet. So I suppose the other night, when I dreamt that I was running from a school cafeteria in WW2 Germany carrying several guns and crying because I would never see my brother or father again, I should’ve quit screaming out of sheer terror and stopped to smell the fucking roses: This is one of the best things in life, Courtney. You’re going to realize that this Hitler isn’t real in a few minutes when you wake up in a cold sweat. So for now, just enjoy the ride! Stop running from the SS. Maybe see what’s playing in that Nazi theatre over there. Could be a nice propaganda film set in the beautiful Austrian countryside, and hell, since this is just a dream, enjoy it.
I’d also close my eyes during the following scenarios, which aren’t quite what I would consider some of the best things in life:
Paranormal Activity movies
Family members burning to death
Anything Tyler Perry has produced
Rape
Being Dead
Some of the best things in life, right? Totally.
Inspiration isn’t lurking in one of the several billion shared photos that clutter your Facebook and Pinterest feeds. Oh, and dolet someone tell you the sky is the limit even though there are footprints on the moon, because NASA spent billions of dollars on those footprints in a political attempt to outdo the Soviets who ended up sucking anyway. And that will never happen to you.
Jazzy’s note: I am laughing so hard. This posted needed to be written.
40 love is patient,
[except when you’ve got reservations
at the newest joint in town]
love is kind,
[until he accidentally uses your toothbrush]
it does not envy,
[then why do pre-nups exist?]
it does not boast,
[nope, it only bitches and groans]
it is not proud,
[only when he makes his own
sandwich!]
it does not dishonor others,
[except her father who said to
marry a Jew]
it is not self-seeking,
[sex is amazing, is it not?]
it is not easily angered,
[“were you just staring at that woman’s
butt?!”]
it keeps no records of wrongs,
[like last year when he forgot your
anniversary]
love does not delight in evil, but rejoices in the truth,
[…“I’m only telling you you’re beautiful to
get in your pants.”]
it always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres,
[“sure, honey! let’s have a threesome! that’d be awesome!”]
love never fails.
[except when it does.]
(Source: devilsfuckingprostitute)
146
By Bill Dixon
As I walk into the grocery store I glance down at the stack of baskets nested next to the entrance and make the same poor decision I make every time I stop at the store to “grab just a couple things.” I don’t take a basket.
There are a couple reasons for this. First, there is some unfounded hubristic macho bullshit thinking I summon where I convince myself, “I’m a man. A man carries things with his hands. What, am I in some French fairytale, skipping through the produce section with my red cape and picnic basket? No sir, if these hands can chisel granite they certainly can carry milk and eggs 25 feet.” I can’t navigate a hammer to a nail, I couldn’t chisel a block of cheddar without a flesh wound, but grocery baskets are where I decide to draw a line in the mud to defend my masculinity.
The second rationalization is more coherent, but nevertheless just as ineffective. Opting to forgo the basket is a sort of self imposed financial safeguard. The hypothesis is as follows: There is only so much I can carry with my hands; therefore, I will end up purchasing less than I would if I had a basket to fill. I understand my own limitations and know I cannot be trusted with the capacity to carry more stuff because I don’t know my own limits because I am a child.
But all this really means is that instead of shopping like a human being, equipped with adequate transport for selected goods, I’m crawling down aisle 4 on my hands and knees, balancing 12 boxes of Cap’n Crunch on my back, shaking bags of Doritos in each hand like maracas while chasing a fugitive 2-liter bottle of Cherry Coke Zero as it rolls down the aisle.
I look up at horrified shoppers, desperately trying to explain, “The Cap’n Crunch, you see, you save 19 cents but you have to buy 12 boxes. But I thought I was just getting bread, you see, so I didn’t bother with the basket. I’m sorry, sir, could you pick up that avocado and just shove it down in my pocket there? Also, do you know what aisle the bread is in?”
I finish my basketless shopping and approach checkout. The woman at the register, currently serving a single customer, directs me to the self checkout. Fine.
I walk up to the first self-checkout station I see and heave my assortment of breakfast cereals and salty snacks onto the small aluminum platform next to the machine.
“Excuse me, sir.” I turn to see a middle aged woman in a Ralph’s uniform waving her hand at me “Sir, this machine is off. You can use one of the other three that are currently active. See,” she points to a small numbered light box above the machine, “Light’s off.”
“I’m sorry, can’t you just turn this one on?”
The woman smiles the sort of smile you employ as a professional courtesy. A smile that says, “Fuck you and thank you for shopping at Ralph’s.”
She says, “I’m sorry sir, we only have three units on right now. Feel free to use any of these three.” Her finger bounces from unit to unit to unit.
I look back down at the machine I’m at, “Is this one on break?” I return the smile of professional courtesy.
“No, it’s just we only have three units on during the day because we want to save energy and—” she continues an explanation as I start stacking things back into my arms with all the confidence and ease of a 10-year-old building a Jenga tower without the loading tray.
I finish loading my arms up and begin creeping to the next station. By now, an audience is forming disguised as a line of shoppers. As I teeter back and forth like a juggler on a unicycle, I think how I could have been a brilliant Vaudeville act. This is when the tower came crumbling down onto the floor.
I raise my newly liberated hands to the sky, “Jenga!”
“Excuse me, sir! Sir! Could you please pick your items up now, Sir.”
“No, I can’t.”
The professional smile has vacated her face leaving the pink hue of anger or frustration, “I’m sorry sir, you can’t leave your items here, there are other people waiting!”
Here comes the indignant macho bullshit again, “I’m sorry, lady, but I can leave this stuff here. You know why? Because I don’t fucking work here! I don’t want to ring up my own groceries, I don’t want to bag my own groceries and I certainly don’t want to be the ‘clean up on aisle 7’ guy. Get the fucking robot who isn’t ringing people up to unbolt himself, grab a broom and clean this shit up because I’m not doing it!”
I wait for uproarious applause but there is none. The shoppers are unimpressed and seeing the spill, they realize it may be a couple minutes until they get their turn at the register where their impromptu part-time job awaits.
The woman leans down, diverting her gaze, and starts cleaning up my mess. She is embarrassed but I can’t tell whom she is embarrassed for, herself or me.
She didn’t ask for this. This isn’t her fault. Her name is probably something like Sue Ellen and she probably hates working here.
Ashamed, I make my way towards the front door. Then, I grab one of the baskets nested next to the entrance and run back to where Sue Ellen is still bent over trying to pile everything into her hands.
I lean down and together we start piling things into the basket.
“You shoulda’ had this to begin with,” Sue Ellen whispers, still avoiding eye contact.
“Well, I didn’t realize you would have such a deal on Captain Crunch.” I look around the floor, “Shit…I think I forgot the bread.”
Jazzy’s note: I’m guilty! hahahahaha
102
- Being gay is not natural. Real Americans always reject unnatural things like eyeglasses, polyester, and air conditioning.
- Gay marriage will encourage people to be gay, in the same way that hanging around tall people will make you tall.
- Legalizing gay marriage will open the door to all kinds of crazy behavior. People may even wish to marry their pets because a dog has legal standing and can sign a marriage contract.
- Straight marriage has been around a long time and hasn’t changed at all; women are still property, blacks still can’t marry whites, and divorce is still illegal.
- Straight marriage will be less meaningful if gay marriage were allowed; the sanctity of Britany Spears’ 55-hour just-for-fun marriage would be destroyed.
- Straight marriages are valid because they produce children. Gay couples, infertile couples, and old people shouldn’t be allowed to marry because our orphanages aren’t full yet, and the world needs more children.
- Obviously gay parents will raise gay children, since straight parents only raise straight children.
- Gay marriage is not supported by religion. In a theocracy like ours, the values of one religion are imposed on the entire country. That’s why we have only one religion in America.
- Children can never succeed without a male and a female role model at home. That’s why we as a society expressly forbid single parents to raise children.
- Gay marriage will change the foundation of society; we could never adapt to new social norms. Just like we haven’t adapted to cars, the service-sector economy, or longer life spans.
Jazzy’s note: This. Is. Awesome. I love the sarcasm dripping out of him.
3146 
