Category: Uncategorized

Home, by Cecilia Morales

I remember the clear blue skies
the chilly rainy days
the cool October winds signalling the end of the school year
the cicadas crying for rain
the butterflies bringing spring on their wings
the ancient green giant watching over us
his warmth barely contained under rocky dark blankets.

I remember the sleepy towns
our hideout in the foggy mountains where I said ‘I love you’ for the first time
and the wild waves we used to ride on the weekends
our skin angry and red and salty and peppered with dark sand.

I dream of many faces
all of them smiling as they pass by
golden brown, kissed by the sun
infinitely patient at my silences, my anger, my disappearing acts.

I hear their laughter as we walk together on dirty sidewalks
passing by tall walls lined with broken glass
and barbwire
pretending to ignore the vague black threats tagged on doors
and the suffocating hand of uncertainty behind the smog
wondering what safety even feels like
wondering which one of us will be next
performing death in the newspapers
under white sheets
because what else is there to feel
other than fear and disgust?

I am haunted by her sunny smile clouded by the plastic bag around her head
by the bullet that stole his eye
by the ghouls that drove her away from home
by the corpse I stumbled upon on my way to the gym
by the crowds cheering wildly at the emperor’s cries for blood
by the deafening hatred making us turn against one another
devouring each other on our way out.

By Cecilia Morales – twitter.com/mulberryink

Originally published at https://notesmetro.substack.com

Feed the Wolf, by Ben Hramiak

Weather is bitter,
sitting on chair, smoking.
Pipe allows small, dull
Embers to be spewed forth.
Tiny specs of dancing light
Hurt my eyes. Wince at them.
Think of spouse, thoughts
turn to her without
clothes. Berate self
inwardly and outwardly.

Frown, chunter, growl.
Grit teeth, teeth turn to fangs.
Don’t question this.
Know what will happen.
Welcome it,
welcome the fur and
claws, the tearing of
my muscles.

Wait in the dark for her,
laugh to myself – a growling cackle
escapes my newly formed maw.
Don’t worry about the mess I made.
Will deal with it later.

Sensory overload: smell
a hundred thousand
different flavours dancing
along the air. Meat, sweat, dust,
old paper from old books, smoke –
the smoke burns my nose,

I wince at it.
Hear her car enter the driveway
like a boulder being
dragged along the ground.
Her key clatters through the lock,
her shoed feet clomp along the carpeted floor.
I grin to no one in particular – frenzy brings with it an invigoration –
and wait in anticipation, claws scraping the arms
of my armchair – leather ripping to reveal the
woollen innards.

The feelings of lust mix
with something… older.
I salivate, my thoughts turn red
for a fleeting moment. She enters the room and gasps.
Tall, business suit, brown hair.
Sensible. Picture her without clothes again,
begin to grin even wider. Brain barely
Forming words, mouth nearly incapable of
Making sounds other than growling.
Everything is red.

The history of the cubicle — An unknown poet who sings to himself

Every knock on the door Like a fly Sticking in my throat When there was another knock on the door My muscles have been cut The Knock on the door like a sharp knife for me I was surrounded by knocks at the door The knocks would not stop If you completely ignore the […]

via The history of the cubicle — An unknown poet who sings to himself

Today: “Do not rush to complete your goals.  Be sure that everyone is on board and you are not working at cross purposes.” – from the I Ching — Hari Nam and Healing Heart Center

Find a way not to be drawn into a conflict you cannot win. Those goading you have much power and would like to use it against you. Bide your time. Find refuge in your daily life. Quietly serve in your righteous path until the hostile forces have met their inevitable collapse. Meditation: NM0336 – For […]

via Today: “Do not rush to complete your goals.  Be sure that everyone is on board and you are not working at cross purposes.” – from the I Ching — Hari Nam and Healing Heart Center

In Celebration — Author Perfectly Flawed

This week, in celebration of Juneteenth, I wanted to share a compilation or writers who contributed to our world through their words. Because, unless you haven’t heard – Black Lives Matter. Note: The backdrop for these images is the Pan African Flag that symbolizes freedom Harriet Jacobs was an escaped slave who became an active […]

via In Celebration — Author Perfectly Flawed

How to Gain That Last 1% in Your Writing — A Writer’s Path

by Ryan Lanz It’s been said that the difference between a good novel and a great novel is only 1%. When I first read that, it used to drive me nuts. What is that 1%? If you asked 100 people, you would probably get 100 different answers. What I’m talking about here […]

via How to Gain That Last 1% in Your Writing — A Writer’s Path