By Ken W. Simpson Unrequited Flushed out by anger and doubtswith nothing left but a black abyssto escape from life’s cruel realityfor hopeful unfulfilled anticipation. ### Cultural Values In the waste-bin of misused momentsDissolute days bequeathed in angerLeft to ride…
By: Umar YB DARING THE SEAS Daring the seas, Come what may. Ready to know The tidal kindness Or the kind Of its deceit. If I cross the swells, Safe and sound, To the other coast, That’s my wish. And, if I wanderOn the highs That I sink In…
By: Don Tassone Henry Valentine sat straight up in bed, awakened by the morning sun, thinking he had overslept. Confused, he looked over at his clock. 7:18. His heart raced. Is this Saturday? Yes, it’s Saturday. Thank God. For a…
By William T. Hathaway Dr. Klaus Volkamer’s new book, “Weighing Soul Substance”, builds bridges across the gulf that has separated science from spirituality, materialism from mysticism. It confirms the reality of auras, clairvoyance, remote viewing, psychokinesis, telepathy, and precognition, and…
By: EG Ted Davis Bring home the glory ‘Tis time for payback,the Chinese holiday is over,shall we impart great tariffshell yeah, says the American worker,your economy hasprospered off of our’sand left our backs sweatless,bring home the great industrial complex-says the…
By: Linda Barrett Ron didn’t want to come on the New Directions road trip but his stepbrother, Tim, forced him into it. Agnes DellaRossa, the support group’s leader recommended it to him when she called him earlier that morning….
By: Arinda duPont Utilitarian Beauty She wasn’t exactly beautiful. She had been called intriguing,but most days she looked more practical than exotic. Her utilitarian look was an acquired taste. If you could get past the blotchy skin and naturally red…
By: Tara Davoodi america’s backyard as i sit there, diggingi can’t help but thinkthat all of this is futile. scooping out soil fromthe embalmed earth,planting rotten seeds. ancient stones, quartz and graniterecovered in sweaty palmsdarkness burrowed under fingernails, nothing but…
By: Sally Smithson They never liked Brad. When they moved in, and they were lugging the cardboard boxes up the driveway, there he stood across the street. His arms were crossed, and he was scowling. They could see a toothpick…
By: Beatriz Moisset In Argentina there is a type of pasta that we call ammunition pasta. It is used mostly to make soups. The name describes the shape perfectly. In Italian, it is called pastina, but this name also applies…