Category: Uncategorized

a river can have rocks within it
or a sheet of ice going across its surface
or the water can be too warm
that it forms a hurricane
and starts destroying everything
but the point is
you have the power to change me.

you can make my world
heat up
with your cigarette smoke
or higher my vibrations
with your prayers
or inspire passion
with your touch
the point is
I can change the world too.

…

Bio:
HI there, my name is Rejjia Camphor and I am from Baltimore, Maryland. Many people pronounce my first name wrong but I pronounce it like (Ruh-G-Ugh), like it rhymes with Momma Mia! At 22, I graduated with a B.A. degree in Creative Writing, Visual Culture and Women’s Studies from Hampshire College. I have an array of passions but am best known for my hugs, my personality, my poetry and some pretty wild experiences. Right now, I am hoping to center my creative work and writing around the ontology of language, blackness, mental health and healing.

The moment of your loved one’s passing is surreal.
All the things you wanted to say hang there in that moment.
Tears cloud your thinking. You’re not sure he can hear you.
“I love you” becomes your mantra as you attempt to squeeze
Into those words all you always wanted to say but never did.
You hold him tightly as if you can prevent him from leaving.
As he struggles with his final breaths, your mind slips
Into a strange place. Your world has changed before your eyes.
All you knew would happen but never wanted to acknowledge
Is now impossible to ignore. Your mind falters for a moment.
Then your love for him shakes you loose. You rise to the occasion.
You do the things for your loved one you did every day.
You wash his hair. You shave him. You bathe him.
You kiss him one more time. You give him the dignity he deserves.
Then you call hospice and watch them carry out their duties.
You sit nearby and wonder if he’s still there, watching over you.
You rise and go to him. You touch his body gently, caressing him.
You kiss him one last time as they enter the room with a stretcher.
They lift him gently from the bed and wrap the sheet over him.
Your heart tugs, knowing you will never see him again.
His smile, those eyes in which you swore you could see his soul
Would only be memories and images, pixels for you to cherish.
Then they drape a flag cover over his body as your tears flow.
You weep for your own loss and for all the things he wanted to do still.
He was so much more than he even knew and moved the hearts of many
In ways that can’t be written in an obituary. He was a gentle, kind man.
You wonder if your life can go on without him. Tears come often.
Then you remember how much he believed in you without condition.
It strengthens you and commits you to living your life to the fullest
As you know he would want you to do – to make a new beginning.
He will never be gone. He lives in your heart and in the thoughts you think.
You went through the good times and the bad over the years, but
No matter what, you came out on the other side together.
Even though you’re separated by a veil, it can’t rip away your connection.
He’ll always be there for you, no matter the path your life takes in the future.
He is your best friend, the love of your life. His memory is in your every cell.

©2020 Dannye Williamsen

“You’d feel much better,” she said, “If you didn’t think so much.”

“Aren’t you being redundant?” I asked, “Aren’t you saying I would feel better if I didn’t think?”

“There you go again!” she said.

By Cheryl Roma Yarek

IF EVER TO A DINNER PARTY BY THE FAMILY KNOWN AS DONNER YOU’RE INVITED,
IF I WERE YOU, I TRULY WOULDN’T BECOME TOO EXCITED.
IMMEDIATELY UPON YOUR ARRIVAL, YOU DISCOVER THAT THEN YOU HAVE TO DEAL
WITH A HOSTESS WHO WILL BE MORTALLY OFFENDED WHEN YOU REVEAL
THAT YOUR STAY WILL NOT BE EXTENDED—
YOUR DIETICIAN RECOMMENDED YOU ONLY EAT A VERY LIGHT MEAL
AND YOU LEARN YOU ARE INTENDED AS THE MAIN COURSE ON THE MENU—
AS A GOURMET SUBSTITUTE FOR A FILLET OF MILK-FED VEAL!
YOU’LL BE SERVED UP WITH BOULIABAISE PLUS A GARNISHEE’
AND ALLSPICE, IF YOU DON’T HEED MY ADVICE AND VERY QUICKLY FLEE!

THE DONNER FAMILY DINNER PARTY HAVE A WELL-HONED APPETITE
THAT IS QUITE HEARTY, ESPECIALLY FOR LONG-PIG, AKA HUMAN FLESH,
THEY ARE ALL FOR CONSUMIN’ IT WITH SPICES SUCH AS CUMIN—
BUT ONLY WHEN IT HAS BEEN BUTCHERED FRESH.

THEY PREFER IT WHEN IT HAS BEEN WELL-STEWED IN A POT,
FOR DINNER, LUNCH OR AN AFTERSCHOOL SNACK;
BUT THEY’LL DEVOUR IT WHETHER IT’S COLD OR HOT,
THEY START TO DROOL AND THEIR LIPS THEY SMACK.
MY MUSCLES WELL-BROILED AND BRAZED UPON A ROASTING SPIT OR RACK……

WHEN I ENCOUNTERED THE JUNIOR BONNERS IT WAS NO CHANCE MEETING—
IT HAD FOR A LONG TIME BEEN THEIR CHERISHED GOAL—
I SHOULD HAVE QUICKLY FLED AT THEIR FIRST GREETING;
THOUGH AT FIRST GLANCE, IT WAS MERELY FLEETING.
I COULDN’T HAVE KNOWN THAT I WAS FATED TO PAY A TERRIBLE TOLL.

ANY ATTEMPTED ESCAPE WOULD HAVE PROVEN SELF-DEFEATING;
THEY WERE DETERMINED TO EXECUTE THEIR CHOSEN ROLE;
EACH TO PERFORM WITH GUSTO—NOT TO MENTION LUST, OH—
WHICH ENTAILS MY STEAMING ENTRAILS BEING SERVED UP IN A BOWL;
MY BODY FLAYED, MY HEAD DISPLAYED UPON A SHARPENED POLE!

THE DONNER FAMILY DINNER PARTIES HAVE A WELL-EARNED REPUTATION FOR MASTICATION…

MY LIFEBLOOD IN A BEAKER WOULD HAVE BEEN BRIMMING,
AFTER STRAINING AND SKIMMING THROUGH A SIEVE;
THE AUVOIR DUPOIS, AFTER TRIMMING, WOULD HAVE BEEN CONSIGNED TO SUET;
WHAT THEY MIGHT HAVE BEEN THINKING AS THEY WERE DRINKING IT—
LIKE A CHAMPAGNE SPLIT—

BUT I WAS DETERMINED NOT TO ALLOW SOME CANNIBAL TO EXERCISE HIS MANDIBLE,
WHILE HIS THIRST HE SLAKED,
THEN TO TOP IT ALL OFF WITH A CAKE OR PIE IN WHICH MY SWEETMEATS HAD BEEN BAKED……

INSTEAD I VERY QUICKLY DID A FLIT!

THAT WAS THE WORST NIGHTMARE, EVEN AFTER EXTREMELY LIGHT FARE—
I’M REALLY GLAD I DIDN’T DIE—
I’VE COMPLETELY LOST MY APPETITE!

Copyright © 2018

If only I could see
with a mind without
Distractions.
what would I see
would I see me
what would I do
would I take a knife
and then take a life
would I see
clarity
Would I be
Free
Or are the distractions in our
lives the only thing keeping
us : alive, awake, moving, and Breathing
I Care not to Care
but by not going there
Am I impaired?
a Pair of pears
leafy limbs, barky trunk.
dangling tucked
Together
the two
Their branches Bonded
and
the
Bonds of time
simple as a pear
unravel when we Sleep
we escape
Reality when we sleep
Why steep in sleep
Revel in a bottle
waggle and wiggle
giddily giggle
Your awake,
drone
Your senses to sleep
Don’t Be Weak
Don’t Sleep
Keep to your feet
Drink and you can
Sleep Then
Forget
I forgot if it was
worth
Remembering
anyways.
Is any of it?
Worth anything?
at all?

My soulmate is here

Couldn’t be more happier

Our love is clear,

The days are endless,

Our journey has just started

The two years spent

Has given us the strength

We are connected inside and out

No matter the pain or doubts

As long as your by my side

Our challenges that arise

We will have an everlasting life❤️

Jeff Paquet

https://instagram.com/homeboiflicks?igshid=11aslocn8wdta

COME TO ME THIS NIGHT

I AM YOUR BEAST

YOU SHALL NOT FRIGHT

I MISS I KISS YOUR LIPS

WITH BLISS HERE COMES THE TRIPS

BRUSH OFF THE PECK I’M AT YOUR NECK

YOU ARE MY SCORE

YOU YEARN FOR MORE

I AM THE LION

YOU ARE MY PRIDE

I TAKE YOUR HAND

WE’RE NOW IN STRIDE

FALL BACK FALL BACK

FEAR DRIVEN LUST

WON’T BREAK YOUR HEART

WON’T BREAK YOUR TRUST

YOU’RE AT MY DOOR

I’M AT YOUR BUST

TRUE LOVE OUR LORE

NOW TAKE MY THRUST

the dream
the reality
the ghettos
the insanity
the inhumanity
look at the world’s state
poverty
look how power rapes
could I take
dirty water under
the poorest living conditions
still praying, hoping, wishing
dreaming of that new day
dreaming of equal opportunity
how can I not cry for the world
look at everything it’s doing

As I grew up, I hardly knew,

I would find serenity in the arms,

Of the beautiful Dalma Hills,

Of the natural greenery, and the flowings;

Of the winds, and the waters of the rivers,

Through the plateaus of the geography,

That distinguished my native birth place.

I was mesmerised every time I stepped out.

The attraction was great,

The love was bound to be greater.

The love conspired,

The serenity inspired,

And I was writing my thought expressions,

That flew on the spaceship to the,

Wanderings of the parallel universes,

To the sucking center of the black holes,

To the alien worlds somewhere,

Looking to interact with us;

All back to where we willingly long for,

The life that we wait to fill,

With the love of a lifetime.

—————

I remember
portobello road
where I first touched you
to draw your attention
to a beautiful façade
the passers-by
were running from the rain
the fruit-sellers
closing their stalls
I remember
the church portal
where we listened to
the warmth of silence
I remember
watching you sleep
with your lips puckered
and listening
to your deep breathing
I remember the sheet
over your hips
in a tender
outline
interesting
I can’t remember
what your eyebrows were like
I remember
the row of trees
which cut through the vineyard
the persistent wind
and the way we walked slowly
with your hand
in the pocket of my coat
listen
this may sound corny
but before I met you
there was really something missing
I remember
your letters
blaβblaufrauenschrift
which you left on the pillow every morning
while I was still asleep
I remember
how you waited patiently
for me to finish
looking at three paintings by monet
and remember
watching you dance
to music
all alone
and our long walks
in the streets around the covent garden
I remember us
in a train
tangled together, sleeping
as we travelled
or our little room
for rich tourists
above the café de la paix
too expensive but that’s what you wanted
the square
was teeming with people
I remember
the record that played
on and on
over and over again
(tom waits, closing time, I think)
I remember
holding your hand
when you were afraid
I remember
the restaurant with the name I’ve forgotten
but which I could
still find
with my eyes closed
and our silence
stretching for hours
to a bottle of wine
hell, that was an ugly silence
and this is the book
I bought that Saturday
when I waited for you to finish at the hairdresser’s
the streets were moist
with last night’s rain
or the street washers’ efforts
it was early morning
still a bit nippy
and we went
to have coffee together
but we didn’t have coffee
because we had to shout at each other a little first
so things felt awkward afterwards
I remember you
watering the flowers
singing to them quietly
so they would grow better
and how, cheeks flushed, after work,
you downed a tumbler of cognac
to which I objected
hey
have some respect
that’s good stuff
I remember
the spring in greece
when you sobered me up
with olive oil and vinegar
disgusting
you followed the advice
of the women in our neighbourhood
that’s how they tortured
their husbands
then came the summer
and the two of us, sunburnt,
lay prostrate in our room
with a big wet towel
across our backs
and we whispered: listen
the heat is so strong that it buzzes
at night
we sat on the terrace
nuzzling the cold chenin blanc
that’s when we discovered it
I look at your profile
as you take your shoe off
to shake out the beach sand
and at your foot
tiny
my god, what a foot that was
I remember
how you fought with the waiter
when he brought me the wrong drink
not the one I’d ordered
how we made love
with the TV on
a romantic movie blaring
I teach you my tongue
by rolling poetry off it
I see you
sitting on the edge of the bath
while I am shaving
you are massaging in face cream
the hydrating make-up base
whatever
I see you collecting dry leaves around the garden
only the beautiful ones;
they still fall out
from books long left unopened
I remember
when you went to another room
to make secret phone calls
I pretended to read the paper
the financial reports
god forgive me, I was so…
I remember
your dog
our puppy, rather
who came up to the bed every morning
and burrowed between us
I remember
the first time you left
I looked out of the window
into an empty street
into the night
there was a poster for a cowboy movie
across the road
the radiators were cold
the boiler in the bathroom
hissed
and
your eyes
were there as soon as I closed mine
I remember
the smell of your clothes
forgotten in the cupboard
a large cardboard box
full of photos
god, what did I do with them?
which one of my house moves
was the end of them?
I remember
quiet evenings
you painting
and me writing
or reading in the armchair
I remember
the flowers which kept arriving
each morning
suffusing the apartment
with their oppressive smell
perhaps I should have asked
who was sending them
perhaps
I remember the night sounds
your breathing
and the muffled song of the drunks
coming from below
I remember how,
when you were to go “somewhere”,
I hurried you along
so you wouldn’t be late
pretending to have no clue
and how you came back
from hospital alone
with blue
black
rings around your eyes
something needed saying
I know
as soon as I was away
you packed your suitcases
bags
toiletry bags
some of the things even spilled over
into the woven basket for the market
I remember
your silence in answer to my question
I remember
my silence in answer to your silence
I remember gazing through the window
and the sound of your key on the kitchen table
and the sound of the apartment door, opening
I remember
hitting you on the face
(all my life, my hand will follow
that trajectory)
and I remember you crying
well before impact

——

Dušan Gojkov (1965)
A poet, short story writer, novelist, essayist, radio drama director, journalist. Published fifteen books, and some poetry and prose in a dozen anthologies. Winner of some domestic and foreign literary awards.
Directed more than two hundred radio dramas and around twenty documentary tv films.
Editor-In-Chief of Balkanski književni glasnik Magazine – Balkan Literary Herald.

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