By: G Dean Manuel Close your eyes, dream a dream, let loose thy lies, burst reality’s seem. Crystal clarity, within darkness enclose, fall short the human parody, a moment that time froze. Black falls upon black, subjective truth is shattered, the…
By: G Dean Manuel I close my eyes, so I am blind, I may ever seek, but how do I find? Vision always got in my way, in inky night, my heart risen, inclined. I don’t need to see the day,…
By: Joseph Kierland Ho Dong wasn’t his real name. It was just the name they passed from one Chinese cook to the next when they came in from Hong Kong. The new cook took the name of the old cook, exchanged…
By: Ronald Hrubetz I knelt down and held my hands in front of me. I don’t pray. I haven’t in 20 years. This has to be the alcohol acting out. I shouldn’t even be here. A sinner in a city of…
By: Gaither Stewart If you have you ever seen a monkey hanging from a tree by its tail and showing its red ass to onlookers, then you have seen the animal kingdom’s representation of war. According to French playwright Jean…
By: Priya Anand He walks like a leaf scattered by the wind Gait unsteady yet swiftly As if propelled by a sudden gust that darts and swoops Likened to a golem that lurks in the shadows Decrepit and insignificant Invisible to…
By Suneet Paul The two ants who were close friends, were taking a walk on the first-floor terrace of Sanjay’s house. It had been a tiring morning for them. The carefree and relaxed atmosphere was a welcome change. The brick…
By: Jonathan Butcher Those faces once again crawl from between the pavements and orange brick houses and straight through the neat lawns and new builds. They slowly echo off each wall, but fail to melt into one single voice. That false…
By: Jonathan Butcher In that narrow underpass the badly fitted lights struggle and flicker. The tags and stickers which adorn them cast miniature shadows that appear against our skin like bruises, that refuse to heal until covered. We’re neither approached or…
By: James Aitchison I rambled on down the Spanish Steps one day And found the house. The voluptuous guide Made me wonder: Was she in love with the dead? Her eyes seemed to kiss the portrait of Keats, His frail face…