Poem: 'Cauterized!' by Rich Orth

Cauterized!
by Rich Orth

Interpretation

Not unlike beauty

Is in the eye

of the beholder

Thoughts arise

Flow forth

Well contemplated

Conceived with purpose

Though when delved

into by third parties

Embrace new meaning

Leaning towards new

trajectories

Connotations undreamt

Vexation of spirit

Perceived as joyous

Desolation of dreams

Viewed as contentment

Toying with vocabulary

Molestation of lexicons

Cheshire smile

As pen becomes scalpel

Intricately slicing

In fervent attempts to heal

Mending surreptitiously

Initially at first

Then outward with

wanton abandon

Carving a scarring path

Ending only when transference

completes

And the bleeding of the ink

Successfully is cauterized

Poem: 'One Night' by Natasa Nikolic

One Night

by Natasa Nikolic
 

One night she swept into the room

she knew not how or when

Soon her vision was clear,

a window of the den

Somewhere inside, cold with stones

lay with dozens a candlestick

She did not think, but hurried,

inside to grab him quick

Desire washed up inside her,

she pushed down his chest

Yearning that made her quiver,

seeing the man-made nest

Her eyes seemed like of glass,

and sweeping her hair to the side

He got the same tender treatment,

before her mouth grew wide

She longed for the taste of his skin,

inside there was an itch

He felt an ache and screamed out loud,

soon after came a twitch

He let out a snarl,

to her the sweetest sound

Wishing that music wouldn’t stop,

maddening tunes held her bound

Soon immersed in pleasure,

stretched and began to move higher

Remembered his silky, hollow voice,

burning inside like a fire

Longing to hear it again,

but there only came a noise

The knuckles were white and still,

only the head in a poise

A guttural gurgling of sorts,

she did not have to guess

Before her head had cleared,

the chanting inside progressed

Before a thought was conceived,

startled, loosened her grip

And a single cough was heard,

so she stopped to sip

His chest heaved and sank,

his mouth turned into a grin

The abyss in his eyes now gone,

every night he let her in

Dancing in the darkness,

bodies followed by hollow-sight

Moving to a creaking rhythm,

glancing at the withering night

I raise a glass filled to the rim,

to pleasures of the profane

Neverlasting ages of sunken

dreams, never to seem sane

Poem: 'Twilight 27/31' by M Teresa Clayton

Twilight 27/31

by M Teresa Clayton

The moonlight behind the clouds

Creates a blue and eerie glow

Illuminating the night

Casting shadows below

And I close my eyes

To all the secrets I know –

Twilight awakens my deepest desire

Your cold touch sets my soul on fire

There's a haze that hangs low in the sky

Painting everything a smoky gray

Intoxicating the night

Calling me out to play

And I listen closely

To the words as you say –

"Twilight waits for you in the meadow

Come, return to me in the shadows"

Wanting is the stench of a man full of greed

Craving is carried delicately upon the fragrance of need

I feel the cool touch of your hand

Against the soft warmth of my skin

Celebrating the night

With the burning within

And I give myself to you

To my deadliest sin –

My twilight paints the evening white

Removes the darkness from the night

Gluttony never satisfies a man who feeds when he can

Savor the taste of the throat of the woman who bleeds for the man

Poem: 'Dirty Sheets' by Laura Petellat

Dirty Sheets

by Laura Petellat

I thought I was a better person than it turns out I am. Is it still depression when you recognize the truth? I thought I'd make the world a better place. I guess I deserve abuse.

Wrap myself in dirty sheets and fall in love with you. Throw myself off this bridge and burn it as I do. I'm not a soul worth the love I recieve from you.

As though it matters, I am here, floating down this lake. The lifeless form the rages on, I was a mistake. So I wade through this pool, drowning, choking blood. Comfort in discomfort. Leave my body down.

Wrap myself in dirty sheets and fall in love with you. Throw myself off this bridge and burn it as I do. I'm not a soul worth redeeming. Dieing just for you.

As black swells around my closing eyes, no lighted tunnel comes. I see your God so different now. I don't deserve his love. We'll never meet again I guess. All the best for you.

Wrap myself in dirty sheets and fall in love with you. Throw myself off this bridge and burn it as do. When you die, I'll be in here, wading just for you.

Poem: 'The Ghosts and Autumn Tambourine' by Kay Irvin

The Ghosts and Autumn Tambourine

by Kay Irvin

Perhaps travelers all in at twilight

Searching for leaves and bed to rest a dream

So I thought, as October's playful child

And I crept the fortress of their lit scene

Flickering candlelight and tambourine

All souls gathered round a high bonfire

They offered flowers kin the May month green

For the cool mist of the changing season

Left the briar thick but the garden lean

Petals showered down from the tambourine

Coven choir sang with arousing voices

For to the depth and all the woods between

I was so captured with rustic beauty

Nearly forgetting the eve, Halloween

A haunting sound fell from the tambourine

Dusky dance and images illusion

Filled my mind but was loving gift to glean

Starry candles illuminated peace

All Hallows stirred shadows, casting forth serene

Chanting, chanting the world and blessed be

Poem: Untitled by Jillanna Babb

Untitled

by Jillanna Babb 

I wish I could be beautiful like you are. I wish I could be as brilliant. If only I was perfect as you are, then I would deserve all the wonderful things in life. But I am a monster. I was not supposed to be born. I came into this world as an act of rebellion. Those compelled to love me will grow to hate me over time as they feel themselves empowered beyond my primal magnificence. They will destroy me as they do everything they wish, punishing the natural urge with the pollution of greed. I remain, hideous yet undeniable, because I am real and alive here on Earth, waiting to be ripped to pieces by the possessed revelers under the last bower where the fruit bleeds for our drunken bliss.

Poem: 'Necromantic Dream' by Jerry Langdon

Necromantic Dream

by Jerry Langdon, 2016 

Twas once 'pon a dismal dream

That I woke to terrifying scream.

My blood churned, toenails curled,

Uncontrolably my head twirled.

My mind a mist wrought labyrinth.

Possibly the haunting of absinthe.

Then the wailing returned.

Oh how my head burned.

That scream echoing in it's cavern,

Flowing down my spine; a ghostly cistern.

Flooding my veins with vile fear.

I hoped the alp to disappear.

No time spared, that hope broken

By that scream of terror unspoken.

Congregating unwill strength to stand.

Feet trembling 'twere they of sand,

'Pon my chamber's frigid floor.

Someone or thing released thunder 'pon my door.

An alluring voice begged for entrance,

Fading into an eerie silence.

Long, I stood; Silence grasping my ears

'Til my mind liberated of fears.

'Til my pit nolonger churned.

To beckoning bed I returned.

The blood congealed in my chest

To find myself already at rest.

How could I be here and in my bed?

Am I asleep, could I be dead?

Had I met my untimely death?

Would I test, could I detect breath?

Listening for a heartbeat; something faint.

Pounding stormed against my chambers restraint.

Accompanied by a maddening scream.

I hoped I was but prisoner of a dream.

The thunder 'pon my door

Apocalyticaly shook the floor.

As I neared sanity's fringe.

The door flew from its hinge.

The darkness hither rushed in flailing.

Without question my sanity was failing.

The darkness grasping 'twere it an octopod.

Thrashing like some demon squad

As it engulfed the room and me

'Til darkness was all I could see.

Poem: 'The Fat Feast of Pigs' by James K. Blaylock

The Fat Feast of Pigs

by James K. Blaylock, 3-22-17 

what with the fat feast of pigs

there ought to be an ort to eat,

but alas, they aren't leaving anything behind for anyone else, so we starve,

within our guts begs an unending desire to feed that lustful inferno...

lest the skeletons go limp beneath such weakening conditions, bones

yet, one day, these convoys'll strive for an upper leg, maybe even a thigh,

surely, with the proper amounts of seriousness and gruffness we shall

prevail: perhaps overshadowing their overblown hail and utmost betrayals

Poem: 'We're In The Highlands' by Heather Dawson

We're In The Highlands

by Heather Dawson

How much can I dream

I can dream until asphalt becomes mountains

Until Grey becomes fields of purple

Until someone pronounces my name correctly

Until I smell peat burning in the November air

Until you are wearing the flower of Scotland plaid

Calling to me while the mist rises over the hills

Until you and I are blessed by the priestess

And the broom is jumped

Will you miss the sun

Will you miss the heat

I've taken you away from all that you know

We are Pagans .. We mask our heathen nature

But there we are passionate strong and sly one with earth air and water

Can you be of this place

You claimed it - I can give it to you

We will belong

We will sink in to the marsh

I will feed you whiskey from my breast

And I will love you all the days of my life

I dream

Poem: 'It Has Been Called Asleep' by Eric Forsberg

It Has Been Called Asleep

by Eric Forsberg

Life comes in waves

And crashing cycles of desire

Like meat – it bleeds

Like sawdust - it blows off in the wind

I mask my face in clown white all too often

Pull the strings of puppet fancies

And drink down goblets of my own delay

Long before the ax hits wood

but when my donkey comes into Jerusalem again

I will be there swinging palm fronds

And digging fresh young pearls from every oyster I can find

Sublime young pearls – set in alabaster coins

To pay the boatman for my journey

From purgatory to the shores of life

I have been skinned

I have been rolled in salt

My head has hung for what seems eons

On the gates of town

mummified and tongueless

eyes staring into unseen space

Where is my mother earth – with warm and living milk

feeding me to life again?

And green grass growing on my grave to bring my seed into the sunlight yet once more

Oh for the golden solar orb to bake the clay of my desire into vessels for my dreams

Earthen vessels – brown and good – like earth and stone itself – immortal

Give life to ears and mouth and sights yet to be seen

Give life to touch and taste and senses yet unknown

Give life to muscles, organs, nails, skin, and bone

Give life to mind and soul and heart and make them walk

– give life – give life

Awaken trees – know your sentient selves and dance

Awaken waters – clouds – and planets in the sky

Awaken music, art, and all the words of mankind old and all that’s yet unread

Awaken spirits – come awake and breathe again – the perfumed air of all that is alive

I feel blood like wine in veins that once were dry

In flesh that lay once stiff and cold now bursting with desire

In mind once mortified – a single purpose of the shadow worlds – now burning hot

– on fire in its hope

And fingers gnarled stiff and blue - now grasping brushes to paint itself anew

Alive – alive – and once again alive

The ghosts and wisps dispersed

Forever gone

Alive – alive

A hundred voices ringing out as one

Alive Alive

A thousand hands designing all the earth as fresh

Alive

And once again – alive – alive

We live

Through the darkness of the day and night

We live – we live

Alive

And Music

music

Oh - my – joy

My joy to return to the world - where anything is possible

My joy

My wondrous joy abounds

A Lilac Streak – across the Earth

My joy

My abounding endless Joy