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bonfire flaming red
children’s eyes spark at Grandpa
telling love stories

my shadow and me
on the forget-me-not path
this graveyard silence

Torturous springtime—
in spite of my stinging tears,
the birds call anyway.

time
a concept, elusive
not solid in form
yet makes a sound
tick
tick
tick
tock
a mind, erosive
formed only by muscle tissue
and stardust
holds multitudes of synapses
colliding molecules that make consciousness
poisoned by obsession
calloused by traumas
haunted by shadows of the past
put them both together, time and a mind
and you have yourself a paradox
for the mind is the ultimate time travel
never forward, always back
but still capable of living in a time that no longer exists
strange really,
to exist…

The night grows ever darker,
The night sky filled with grey clouds,
Covering the moon in its entirety,
Leaving the world with little trace of light.

The world grows ever so silent,
The stillness in the air can be touched,
The world has gone quiet now,
The world was sleeping.

Yet here we are,
Embracing each other warmth,
Your body intertwines with mine,
Your hands wander around my body,
Going along its curves and shapes.

We kissed,
I pushed my lips onto yours,
And so do you,
I can taste the sweetness of them,
How firm and soft it is,
Making me fell even deeper,
In this love of yours.

We made love throughout the night,
Time seems to move slower,
As if the night was meant for us.

Our eyes locked to each other,
Time is meaningless now,
In this unfading world,
Only we exist,
Me and you,
In our vulnerable state.

We woke up in the morning,
Next to each other,
The sky was painted in orange hues,
The birds were chirping and singing,
In a beguiling euphony.

The world finally has woken up,
Hundreds of people swarming like flies,
Hurrying to their destination.

You hugged my arms tightly,
I can feel the warmth of yours,
You looked at me directly in the eyes,
Our eyes locked again,
Oh God,
Your coquettish smile,
Your teasing eyes,
Your come-hither looks,
Even the way you called me.

How can I not love you?
You are so perfect,
Perfect in my eyes,
The world does not need to know,
I do not like sharing.

Humans, social beings that we are,
Are in need of social meetings
To be able to be socially
In accordance all over the different societies.

All these social constructions
Make those with social deconstructions
Reconstruct their own social culture.

Sometimes societies fade,
Other times societies evolve,

But as a whole societies
Will always be a socio-economic coccus
Which sociologists view as a social magnet.

Hurt me! HURT ME. OKAY HURT ME.

Okay, hurt me. Tie me with your rope,
throw me in the river, watch me drown,
Come to save me after death. Giggle and smoke
your weed, put the fog into my lungs. Shove
mushrooms down my decaying throat. Watch me
turn into a tree and turn into one with me. Are you hearing me?
I said that you can hurt me. You can hurt me.
Take a knife, cut out my heart,
place something lovely inside my chest. Put me in a maze
and I will find a secret love letter. You love me, don’t you?
Oh, you love me! You love me! So go ahead! Crack me open,
chew me or swallow me or spit me out. Go ahead
and wreck my house. Throw mugs at my wall.
You can do the dishes, too, if you want. You can sit on the
sofa of my mind. Read a book. I will make some tea.
Go ahead and sit quietly, or be loud, make a mess,
I will be right back with scones and a cold brew coffee.
Oh, go on and hurt me.

Through the deluge and lightning above,
I ran from a life with no love.
Loud it cracked, that roar of thunder,
Through my head, my soul to plunder.
Awoken Again, a rumbling silence,
A room with no colour, a defiance of science.

The room was bright white,
Yet lit with no light.
No windows, no walls,
just vast open halls.
No ceiling, just ground.
No end to be found.

Three days or three hours,
My senses devoured,
The silence was ringing.
My eyes they were stinging.
From a great distance.
A sound of persistence.

Three times it did say,
Without wavering Astray.
“Holy, Holy, Holy.”
From above and below me.
The sound echoed around.
Yet no source could be found.

Three more times, it did ring.
The voice, so loud it did sing.
To the ground, the sound knocked me.
From my ears, my blood ran free.
In the endless white sky.
Came forth a light, a firefly.

The light was no dragon,
Giant wings like a falcon,
Three sets it possessed.
Although two sat at rest.
Veiling its feet and its face,
The beast approached with much grace.

Closer and closer, it came.
Its body glowed like a flame.
Countless eyes it adorned,
viewing my soul, I was scorned.
A voice like a trumpet, It spoke.
“Here, by your soul, I revoke.”

Endlessly downward, I fell,
Once more, the voice rang out like a bell,
“To the forest, I cast thee down.
In the form of a tree, thee shall drown.
self destruction thy sin.
Let your atonement begin.”

Within an oak is my cell,
Regret and anguish an endless well.
in my branches, the harpies rest.
With no mercy in their breast.
A twig a day is torn from me,
Damned to exist as a bleeding tree.

My prior actions I regret,
My former self, a vacant silhouette.
This punishment is endless
My crime considered stupendous.
My life a precursor,
To the wood of self murder.

In a fantasy world,
There are two archetypes
Meant to foil each other.
In every story.

The hero of the story
Is fair and merciful.
The villagers flock up to her
Praising her with admiration.
Beloved by all
As a fair and valiant maiden.
Who brings justice to the land,
wherever she goes.
She sees the world with hope,
kindness, and admiration
But there are some who never
understood that worldview.
For all they can see is a stupid lady.
And not a lady full of compassion.

The villain of the story.
Is a mistress full of evil.
Hated and shunned by all in the land.
Once a girl abandoned by all of society
Now sets to destroy everything she touches,
All for the pain she had to endure.
No one understood her, because they feared her.
For all they see is a lady made of evil and hate
And never the scared lady.

The two face to face
Prepared fight each other,
And while a great battle was fought.
The villain eventually fell.
Now at the Hero’s feet,
She accepted her upcoming death.
But instead of death, she was met with a surprise.
Mercy by the enemy, she swore to hate.
By accepting the hero’s hand, she saw kindness.
And for the hero, relieved, she didn’t kill another.
Because she dreads the idea of taking a life.
For justice.

The two made an agreement that they would meet,
in the depths of the woods, on every Tuesday afternoon.
And so with each day, week, month, and year.
The two ladies became more and more acquainted.
Learning about each other, harboring their feelings.
Until the day when the two’s hearts grew to love one another.
And want to be something more with each other.

However the two hesitated to share their feelings.
Since one values the reputation more,
And is afraid to risk everything that has made her the hero.
And the other isn’t so sure if she can trust again.
After everything bad that happened in her life.
One felt that this love wouldn’t last, and
The other is more dedicated to her titles than her lover.
So it went on for a long time.

Until finally in the broad of daylight,
When the sun is bright, and flowers are blooming.
They finally gazed at each other, in the middle of the woods.
And declared their love for one another.
And to their surprise, the other cared for them.

Meanwhile the townsfolk from around the land, Noticed the villain.
They thought she was dead, but instead she was alive.
They notice her castle still standing,
They notice her territory uncharted,
They witness her outside her yard,
And they witness her at random times in the village.
While the hero and villain grew closer,
The villagers noticed that their beloved maiden lied to them.
And so began scheming a plan to end the villain’s reign.
Without the help of the hero.

Unbeknownst to the villagers,
The hero managed to eavesdrop on their meeting.
Feeling a surge of disgust inside her.
She ran off to the woods,
To tell her loved one the tragic news.
And when the news broke out between the two of them.
They both devised a plan,
That will save both of them.
As one reluctantly agreed to the plan.
The plan was set, and ready.

At the strike of midnight.
While the hero is sleeping.
A group of towns folks, gather around
With pitchforks, and torches.
And they marched, through the woods
Up to the Villain’s castle.
Once there, the crowd
destroyed the walls,
Burned the garden,
And smashed the window.

Throughout the night,
They destroyed and destroyed.
But yet they couldn’t find the Mistress of evil.
Inside of her own, Gothic castle.

Eventually something appeared behind the villagers.
A large,shadowy figure. Loomed over the people.
And when the poor folks turned their backs,
up lies a gigantic, bloodthirsty, dragon.
Ready to devour them all.

The villagers screamed and ran,
Dropping all their weapons in the process.
Meanwhile the dragon, chased after the people
Eating a couple of them in the process.
Soon the villagers ran off, and scattered back into the forest.
And once every villager has either run off, or got eaten.
The dragon spread its wings, and flew off in the sky.

From that day the villagers never saw the villain again.
Yet they never saw the hero again either.
Days passed, and the townsfolk yearned for the hero to return.
They set up altars, and statues in hope she would return.
But the days passed ,and the hero never returned.
So over the years the villagers forgot her presence, and deeds.
Reducing her to nothing more than just a memory.

The two now a thing in the past,
Forgotten, and irrelevant in the modern day.
But they had never been happier than ever.
In their entire lives than when they are together.

Bombing Las Vegas with a truck? Muhammad Jihad can’t get it done.
He has no balls in the sack they go in. They were stolen.
At the moment of truth, he’ll shiver and punt.
If losing was winning he, a busted flush, would tip the dealer.
But he’s broke. When the time comes there won’t be a bomb. This bum can’t
deliver.

He’s an expired joke. God’s hates the way he’s wired.
The creep’s in lip-deep. His mouth is zinc. He’s had no plan since Afghanistan.
Everything he knows about terrorism he read off a label peeled off a beer can.
He’s a boy. His cell leader Abu Zil is a man.
He’s woe begotten. The moon said he tastes rotten. She puked when she ate his
suntan.

Toss him in a jail cell. Call the old man.
Get him canceled and banned.
No arrows in his quiver, just sand.
He’s dying of desert dream-fever.
He wants to believe in his girlfriend Sarah but he hates her worse than Jews hate
Hitler.

Too bad for Chloe, his little sister.
Muhammad Jihad’s dying in an explosion or getting whacked by his handler.
He ain’t donating her a piece of his liver No matter how bad she need it.
Drop him a leaf and a horse to ride. Nah, forget it
I’m his dawg but come on. The Pal’s a quitter.
Here’s a dollar. Drown his ass in the Colorado river.

I spoke often to the neighbor boy
Although he was only eight
Almost every day that summer
I’d talk to him through our gate

Eventually he started school
So our talks came to an end
It didn’t really bother me
He would always be my friend

One day I saw him on a poster
At first I thought it was a lie
People tried to keep it quiet
I don’t quite understand why

Now everytime I pass his house,
I feel a heavy weight
Gone is the boy that once lived there
Taken when he was eight

-Kayja Alm