submission-virus

Excuses

Scherezade Siobhan

after jeanann verlee

because the weather
because the alarm clock divorced the almanac
because the last bottle of milk went sour
because the dogs held an overnight concert in the stadium of trashcans
because an étude my father seeded in the caesura of my palms
because an artesian well of gutless apologies
because the white oleander of prescription pills blossoming in your stainless shirtpocket
because the streetlamp shuddered like a gunshot
because the tufted argot of psychiatric wards translated into graveyards
because every embrace mirrors the mise en abyme of hours machined from stirrups and straitjackets
because the bed borrowed the vulgar pseudonym of a boxing ring
because the garnet machete of my fingernail cutting ensanguined crescents on the afterglow of his back
because when the keyhole of a quiet mouth comes unlocked, there aren’t mansions enough to scare up its  mourning
because a body entering another body can be a bird, a bullet, a butcher’s knife
because a winter’s velvet twilight skinning the sycamores is the skeletal gap between loneliness and longing
because the summers were sold to the sarcasm of lime-scented cigarettes
because the nightmares slapped you till your forearms were tattooed in the watercolor of amethyst orchids
till you could taste the unblunted metal rusting the lidded clot of each stab
because the violence of polite letters
because the ouroboros of love & loss
because we were harmed, because we had hoped
because i add the wreck in rectify
because you live like the hushed bell of a trapped sparrow
because someone’s shadow is another’s sky

originally posted here; art by Hi Brian Vu

Bildungsroman

Carl D. Phillips

The boy does not die
at the end of this story

chapter 1: parents’ knees buckle at the station
geese fall from the sky

chapter 4: girls watch fireflies float to heaven
local barman sings last call

chapter 13: skate park love unravels in secret
the lake swallows itself

chapter 20: Sunday diner breakfast is tradition
every trail leads uphill   

the boy does not die
the boy does not die

prompt: “Write a soothing novel in twelve lines.”; art: art by recombiner 

Everybody waits for Brünnhilde (but nobody wants to hear her sing)

dustseeker


       –Summary–

It’s all about saving one warrior
              and killing another, right?
But look it’s a draw! in tonight’s
              fight for our tasteful souls
as the steamy fat lady
              finally enters the stage.

       –The audience–

The cowards in the back row
              try to crawl out a window.
The serene ones quietly grab their
              quill pens to write soothing
sexy letters with monetary claims
              that will leave us all sobbing.

       –One block away–

An unsuccessful librettist
              fiddles with baroque keys
in front of a romantic door
              that does not recognize him.
By Odin (he cries out) return me
              to the Vienna of my dreams!

       –Deceptive cadence–

But the curtain falls too soon.
              Ragnarök is officially a no-show.
No celebration backstage.
              No release for the audience.
Oh the scattered applause
              from invisible royal balconies.

I Felt Therefore I Feel

conversinginmetaphors

I feel like echolocation has grabbed my wiener
I feel the sting on my doorknob
I feel like a fopdoodle but only on testicle Tuesday
I feel the breeze on my armpits
I feel like a noggin stuffed with pimento cheese
I feel like a poltergeist with nozzles
I feel like matriculating on a close road
I feel like yelling at banjos and bicycles
I feel like I missed the point
I feel like 10 gigs of data
I feel like wearing sunglasses in a cave of silliness

art by Else Adriana

ten spokes

ofsoliloquies

I feel long winters shunted into the salt of my throat
I feel some lost quicksilver spur of flame pocketed with lint and gum
I feel the sun tongue-throbbed and toe curled
I feel a sea-wind whistling from the barrel of a gun 
I feel strangers cataloging the dearth of names at a potter’s field
I feel the first flicker and fist of dream arson
I feel seeds clenching bone, roots pushing beyond nouns
I feel punch drunk at the topmost bough seeking ray
I feel the heady numb of fever palming eye
I feel like an obsession crossing the endnotes of my legs

idreamimaginarythings submitted:

“Every great story on the planet happened when someone decided not to give up, but kept going no matter what.” Keep going! You have an awesome story. You never know what accomplishments you;ll make or the people you’ll meet-People who might not even be born yet!!!! One day you’ll talk about how you overcame the obstacles in your life. The struggles of now do not define you. You are strong; you’ve come this far. Keep fighting. I’m here if you ever need someone to talk to :)

You are lovely, thank you.

Welcome to the Fandom :)

Always happy to add another member to any of my many DC related fandoms ;) Lol, Supergirl looks like it’ll be really good though, hope you enjoy it as much as I anticipate I will!


Oh, that was so sweet, thank you! 

I am definitely not new to DC (x) (x) (x) (x) (x), but thank you. And yes, I have great hopes for Supergirl, indeed. (^_^) For Lucifer and Legends of Tomorrow as well. And thank you so much for the follow.

But you should probably know that I run an intensely multifandom blog that sometimes also dives into crazy depths of randomness. I think you’ll get a better picture of me by taking a look at these (x) (x) (x) (x).