By: Chandra Shekhar Dubey We are flying, we are flyingabove the ground, skyscrapersabove the river, green valesand forest deep above the pasturesdeep ocean where demoness meetsher lover above the clouds in the sky.We are flying ,we are flyingacross the colonies…
By: Daniel Millard Should not an artistStarve himselfDown to aGood fighting weight? Writing himself outTo be theChampion of his times Echoing back – calling to his matesReaching back to all of those paintedYesterday’sAges that he knew he would never haveSurvivedLight…
By: KJ Hannah Greenberg Not Rigorous Enough When words are rigorous enough to illuminate the discourse amidst dysfunctional adults,To create meaning from world leader’s remarks, to probe sundry romance novels, peopleContend that the breadth, external validity, & heuristic benefit discounting…
By: Hidden pen Lost in my thoughts (What if?)….What if it all a lie?.What if we get to heavenAnd don’t get inside,What if we get to the gateAnd see God at the other side?. What if we can’t go back?,What…
By: Kyle Callam With a leaden chest I must regrettably compileThe very last words that will come to defineYour very cruel and selfish last stanceAnd why you choose no more to danceAs to why you fled from a life of…
By: Paweł Markiewicz The moony, dreamy naiad is awakened,like pearl in the deepest marine finery.She-muser of eternity seeks for hoard.Choir: Muse’s treasure amaranthine-gentle. The naiad to dearest prentice: Magicalis a hidden cavity, the wind told me.< Apprentice: >We are awoken…
By: Vyarka Kozareva IN THE BOUDOIR OF THE DAY The morning keepsBehind its curtainsPieces of human fragility:Micro-nuclei of pain,Droplets of hope, snippets of murkAll waiting to get collected diligently,Arranged carefully,And tied byParty-colored ribbons, cord or wire—According to the rate of…
By: Judith Ferster Deprivation or Trying on the Other We don’t have it easy being white. The apesthat ape you in cartoons are whitebut grew fur coats to compensate.Our only prize is vitamin D.The price is wrinkles and skin cancer.When…
By: Dmitriy Shandra there’s somebody’s voice inside of yourself:it’s saturday, fifth of november,tomorrow is sixth, and the daysthat used to trot briskly aheadnow drag on, exhausted horses,rusted clay of fatigueon the soles of your shoesthe autumnal sun, leadingthe first days…
By Chinese Poet Yuan HongriTranslated by Yuanbing Zhang Heavenly Temples and Towers I rode a heavenly camel towards a desolate desert, .a jade bottle poured the sweet dew of the Kingdom of Heavenand converged a lake of springs that never…