Issue 3 June

7/26/2019 Issue 3 June

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This is a non-commercial e-mag azi ne.

This publi cation, Indie Affa ir - its nam e and design are theexclusive property of S.P, Jessica Vieira and Gabriel Acosta. Thepublication may be non-commercially, copied and distributedfor classroom use, so long as the name of the contributors,creators, a copyright notice, a license notice, a disclaimer noticeand link to the material are provided. Other uses will depen d onthe permission of the authors themselves.

By submitting their pieces of writing authors agreed on the

following terms:*The contents (i.e. articles -poems, stories, artwork, etc-) areproperty of the authors who keep the copyright of their work.*Authors are NOT paid for the pieces of writing that theysubmit.*Authors allow the e-magazine to publish their pieces of writingonce only, without any sort of financial compensation as thisis a non-prof it work done by volunteers.*The formatting of every piece of writing -unless otherwiserequested- will be adjusted by the editorial team according tothe needs of the design for better reading.

The author is inv ite d to menti on Indie Affa ir as a sourcewhenever the aut hor lat er republi shes the artic le on oth erplatforms. Altering the content of the publication in any way isprohibited. No material may be reproduced without permission

in writing from the e-mag azine founders and/or the authors.

S.P., J.Vieira, G. Acosta - 2016 - All Rights Reserved.

Indie Affair

Copyright and Disclaimer Notice:

Editorial Team

From the Editor in Chief

About Jessica Vieira:

Bitten at a young age to pursuecreative pathways in various artistic

forms, which led to an event filledexistence, while dealing with thestruggles presented within ourexistence, gaining an understandingand appreciation for life and allof its organic beauty. Writing hasbeen a calling to her soul and withher through the years albeit, thelast few she has been writing hertake on Ancient Alien theory with

mythology and modern man.

Dear Reader,

I have had the fortune to meet manyincredible souls through Instagram.Finding a wealth of support for myselfand the community to which I now belong.Being moved and my heart captured by thewords read, once an opportunity presenteditself to assist writers in gaining furtherexposure, I jumped at the chance. A quickglance at this issue shows you our continuedcommitment and resolve to publish a journalof the highest standards devoted exclusively

to the circulation of indie artwork.

Our purpose is to showcase any artist,no matter the background, reaching anew audience, moving each individual, bytouching their heart as we have been. Afterall, sharing is caring, right? Support in theartist community as I have found, is tightknit and welcoming of new talent. In lifethere are struggles, the way we choose toutilize those experiences makes a difference.Helping ourselves or another by sharing the

hard times and lessons learned is therapeuticand freeing of our souls from the burdenswe ca rry.

We cordially invite all artists, of any medium andskill level in contributing to this publication.Enjoy the beauty each participant shareswith us through the blood ink penned inpoetic, fiction, or any other manner of eachwondrous composers exper ience. Show yoursupport for these sou lful artist by followingthem on Instagram.

Jess ica

Indie Affair is a non-commercial publication dedicated to publishingmeaningful work (articles, stories, poetry, etc.) as well as disseminatingand promoting the work of emerging and established authors andartists through digital innovation.

Indie Affair publishes poetry, fiction, flash fiction, art/photography,and cross-genre works from contributors around the world. We also

publish reviews of new/old books from the major publishers andsmall presses, and articles about aspects of poetry and prose writing.We wel come submi ss ions from all ar tis ts ded ica ted to producingexciting, innovative prose/poetr y.

If you would like to submit your work, please feel free to contact anyof our editors via mail to:

Editor in ChiefJessica Vieira

Proof Reading &EditingKawaihoano Lahui

Layout Design &GraphicsGabriel Acosta

FoundersS.P.

Jessica VieiraGabriel Acosta

[email protected]

www.scrib d.com/us er/ 309033 918 /Indie-Affair

https://www.facebook.com/indieaffairmagazine

I


3/51II

In the recent days , t ragedy has s t r uck a l lof us. We at I ndie Affa i r Mag az ine, g iveour deepest sympathy to a l l h i t so hard

by the sense less v io lence and hatred.

We mor n the hor r i f ic loss of l i fe , forthe famil i es , fr ien ds, community, and

supporters love no matter our locat ion.Stand together and show love without

l imi tat ion. - I .A.M.


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CONTENTSIssue 3 - June 15th - 2016

II

P.01 - Why do you write?P.02 - Indies Challenge Winner

P.03 - Melancholy

P.04 - Six Questions with Kris Johnston

P.06 - Tigress

P.07 - The Passenger

P.07 - Tears

P.08 - Terror Rising

P.09 - Pieces of Longing

P.10 - Oasis

P.11 - Thank you, Jesus

P.12 - Autumnal Bliss

P.13 - Charcoal Interpreter

P.14 - Methuselah Speaks

P.15 - Savor the Darkness

P.16 - My Book of Poetry

P.16 - A King Like a Lion

P.18 - Once Upon a Time

P.18- The Sky of my Body

P.19 - Candice

P.20 - Orso

P.21 - Snow Valley

P.22 - The Grass is Always Greener

P.23 - When You Think of Them

Indie Affair Issue 1

P.24 - High Definition

P.25 - The Skin

P.26 - The Secre t Whispers of Tulips

P.27 - Cycle on Repeat

P.28 - Twin Soul Colors

P.30 - The Magical Well

P.31 - Age Old Question

P.32 - Day Terrors

P.32 - The Fault

P.33 - A World Gone By

P.34 - Digging You

P.35 - Darkness

P.36 - Ashes of Life

P.36 - Sculpted Heart

P.37 - My Golden Sun, Guyana

P.38 - Lament for Her

P.39 - Lucian and The Stars

P.40 - Cheshire Grin

P.41 - Wake

P.42 - Oceanus Procellarum

P.43 - Tears of a Dying Star

P.44 - Ouroboros

P.45 - Music To Watch Boys To


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Why do you write?

Whenever I am asked thisquestion, I struggle to graspone singular answer that wontoverwhelm my companion. I meanhow does one respond to thisquestion without launching intoa Shakespearean lecture on thevi rtues of ar t and sel f-express ion?Im sure that when my friendcasually throws this landmine,they want my bubble gum answer.Something they can quickly chewand absorb, but to me, it is moreof a seven-course French cuisinemeal. I can only try to condense

my answer into an aperitif that willwhet thei r appeti te and allow themto contemplate a deeper meaning.A writer does not write in orderto attract the masses and becomeinstantaneously famous.

No. A writer creates a world full ofcolor, depth, imagination, emotion,and more using only a variety ofcombinations with the 26 lettersavailable in the alphabet. The

moment you fall in love with words,it is an obsession. Books are oftena solace when the interminglingof human chaos and corruptioncan get to be too much. I myselfam a self-proclaimed extrovertedintrovert. My daily life requiressocial interaction, but at the endof the day, every day that whichgives me tranquility is my writing.Wri ters are mad in such a glor iousway. The abil ity to create charactersfrom the voices that tumble aboutin our imagination, and follow the

By Cynthia Dougherty

poetry_goddess88

Bio: C. Dougherty is a writerwho delves into the heartof her reader and tries to ripforth chaos. The turbulence oftruly feeling is an experiencenot to be quickly forgotten.Her lyricism and rhyme spinsa dream within a dream, and

soon the reader is lost.Presently her first collectionof poetry is for sale on Amazon,

follow the link:http://www.amazon.com/dp/

1530190061

story that leads us down yet anotherrabbit hole. It is an adventure, andas such it can be fraught with perilHowever, danger can make it thamuch more interesting.

I cannot speak for other writers. Ican only speak for myself; writingis my air and my solace. I read, andI write, then I read some more. It ian addiction that I fully embraceIt allows me to be more humanthroughout the day.

I write in order to breathe. I write

in order to process. I write in orderto exist without an emotionaimplosion consuming me andeverything that I am. Writingpoetry, and prose has helped melock onto a more substantial meI write because it flows the waymy blood does. I cannot expect tospend more than a few momentswithout reaching for my phonemy journal, a napkin, a wrapperor something to spi ll my life upon

The writ ten word has he lped me.

I have grown from observationintrospection, inspectiondigestion, and improvisation. Icannot begin to contemplate a lifein which I do not write. I wouldsuffocate. I would crumble andasphyxiate under the depth ofemotion, both joyous and dark andeverything in between. So I ask youthis, why do you write?


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Google+ SumyannaWrites

Bio: Im a homeschooling momof 4 children in Colorado, andI write in my free time. Mypen name is Sumyanna. I wrotepoetry while I was in highschool, but stopped writingfor over 20 years. I have onlystarted writing this past year

again.

History can often beThe harbinger of sad eventsits injustices inure our hearts

to discrimination and aggressionWe study at mother s knee

Where thoughts and procl ivit iesAre fi rst developed,Where our tr uths are mixed

With the el ix ir of our prejudicesAnd the ardor of our hear ts

Are of ten misplacedOnly seeking out the face

Of those who look like meTo be dif ferent,

Requires rumination -A toss ing of the thoughtsA determined quest ioning

Of all that we are taughtFor the glamor of following

In our fathers footstepsMust fall aside

In the moonlight of our days,With open hear ts, le t us pr y

The lid of tr uthAnd peer inside

And may prejudiceFind its proper place:

Evanescent.

Evanescent.

By Sumyanna

CHALLENGE

PROMPT

WINNER!


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By Amanda

Someday you may f ind meHiding away f rom the ra inThe loud crashing of thunder

Reminds me of the horrendous pa in

The br ight f lashes of l ightningTa ke me back to the daysWhen I sa t in that room

And through the b lackened window I couldbarely see the suns rays

I pray someday these v iv id memories w i l l fadeAnd the ra in wi l l then wash away the past ,

spreading a smi le across my faceI wi l l be c leansed of a l l the unwelcomed,

undeserv ing s insAnd I wi l l never have to re l ive those hor r ib le

moments aga in .

Melancholy

abhoppes

Bio: Writing has been mypassion since the age of 7 myinspiration to keep going withmy writing has always come frommy mother. Even though shepassed away when I was 18, it isnow driven by her memory. Myname is Amanda Hoppes, bornand raised in Waterloo, Iowa. My

writing is my every step, everymove, every breath I take; Its myvibrant smile, my saddest frown,my every single mistake; Its myheart on fire, my soul so deep, mymind always free; Its my life line,my past, present, and future. My

writing is ME.

As of May 2016, my firstpoetry book From Midnight toMoonlight was released. Now

onto the next!


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Bio: Kris Johnston is a proudnative of Southern California,a single mom, and a formerhairstylist. She wears many

hats, such as; teacher, chef,chauffeur, nursemaid, lifecoach, cheerleader, therapist,and storyteller (and those are

just the hats she we ars for herchildren!).

She began writing poetry atthe age of 8, and it remainsher first, true love to thisday. Inspired as a teenager byauthors such as Anne Rice,Stephen King, Edgar AllanPoe, and Dean Koontz, shedelved heavily into the darkerside of writing until givingit up for motherhood in her

early 20s. She didnt stray far,however, as poetry got herthrough some of her biggest,most difficult life experiencesuntil she was able to return towriting full time.

Blessed with a newindependence and empoweredoutlook, she strives to use herwriting as a voice for womenwho may feel like they havelost their own while exploringideas of spirituality, self-love,

and forgiveness.

Six questions to know your new, favorite author:

Kris Johnston.

The talented mind behind

Find Me in Heaven and

This Beautiful Curse: A Gothic Fairytale.

Indie Aff air Team : How ma nystories do you have roamingaround in your mind at onceand what do you do to keepthem a l l s t ra ight?Kris Johnston : At th e moment

I have 3 that are plaguing me,sometime s I have had as man yas 6 f loat ing around in my bra inat once. I dont real ly keepthem stra ight , I s imply ignorethem al l exce pt the one th at isthe loudest . I f igure the otherstories wi l l come back aroundlater i f they s t i l l need to betold

IAT :Being a writer is a ful l - t i me

job wi th the pay of babys i t t ingon the weekends, how do youmake i t a l l work and dr ivesyou to keep going?KJ : I make i t a l l work wit h thehelp and support of my people .Wr i t ing rea l ly does take av i l l age, as there are many dayswhen I get so caught up in mywork that I forget the bas icthings l ike eat ing, showering,etc . I know, i t s so glamorousisnt i t? (wink-wi nk) . . . For me,I have the drive to do thisbecause i t s what I was born

to do and I cant imagine doinganythi ng else . I t s what I l ive f orSure, i t may have taken 4 0+ yearsfor me to f ina l ly get i t goingbut I bel ie ve i t was suppose d tohappen l ike this , in this t ime, at

this moment. Dest iny, baby.IAT : What advice would yougive to someone who wants topubl i sh the i r f i r s t book; wr i t ingt ips/sty l izat ion, ed i t ing ,promot ing , e tc . ?KJ : Any advice I could give toothers i s rea l ly not going to he lpI bel ieve we al l have our ownmethods and s ty les of wr i t ingtel l ing stor ies , etc . It s an art

form, and there i s no box thatcan conta in your ar t . I w i l l saythis : Write from your soul , andedit fro m your gut . T hat s how work, and i t s what su i t s me thebest .

IAT : Once youve f inishedwr i t ing a new book, how longdoes i t take to get back into thewr i t ing g roove and what th ingsdo you use to he lp?KJ : I re ly heavi ly on music to geme back into the wri t ing gr oovebut a lot of i t jus t depends on


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Indie Affair Page 5

my mood and mot ivat ion and the s tory that wants to be to ld .

When I f in ished This Beaut i fu l Curse, i t was months before If ina l ly s tar ted a new project , which i s the unre leased, Dar l ingJane. However, when I f in i shed F ind Me In Heaven, I beganmy current WIP two days la ter , because the s tory idea was socapt ivat ing for me that I had to s tar t g et t ing i t down.

IAT : Having such a busy l i fe , between fami ly respons ib i l i t i es ,f r iends , wr i t ing , soc ia l media , and everyth ing e l se youjuggle , how do you keep such a ba lanced hand as wel l aspersonal i ty?KJ : I t s real ly easy for me to stress out over a l l the thingsgoing on in my wr i t ing and wi th my soc ia l media . I t ru ly do

not have enough hours in each day ! The good th ing , though,i s that my k ids are here to remind me of what s importantand what can wai t . My Instagram page can wai t . My Twit ternot i f icat ions can wai t . Edi t ing my WIP can wai t . My chi ldren,however, cannot . So be ing a s ing le mom is g ood in that aspect ,as i t forces me to understand and pr ior i t ize the th ings thatare t ru ly impor tant in my l i fe .

IAT : I f you could have any super power know and unknown,what would i t be and what would you do with th is power?KJ : There are two superpowers I d p ick : The abi l i ty to hea l ,whether i t b e p hys ica l o r e mot iona l p a in . I have a deep d es i re t ore l ieve people of what a i l s them, espec ia l ly when they ache inthe i r souls . The second one would be the power of inv is ib i l i tybecause I rea l ly enjoy not be ing seen or not iced at t imes . Ican be very uncomfortable wi th any k ind of a t tent ion, eventhough I m constant ly out there t ry ing to promote myse l f .Perhaps soc ia l media has been good for me in that way , asi t s forc ing me to come out of my she l l a t iny b i t . But le t s behonest , I m st i l l h id ing behind a screen

BIO: Kr is Johnston i s a proud nat ive of Southern Cal i fornia , as ing le mom, and a for mer ha i rs ty l i s t . She wears many hats , such

as ; teacher , chef , chauffeur , nursemaid , l i fe coach, cheer leader ,therapis t , and s toryte l ler (and those are jus t the hats she wearsfor her chi ldren! ) . She began wr i t ing poetry a t the ag e of 8 ,and i t remains her f i r s t , t rue love to th is day . Inspi red as ateenager by authors such as Anne Rice , Stephen King, EdgarAl lan Poe, and D ean K oontz , s he de lved h eavi ly into the d arkers ide of wr i t ing unt i l g iv ing i t up for motherhood in her ear ly20s . She d idn t s t ray far , however, as poetry g ot her throughsome of her b iggest , most d i f f icu l t l i fe exper iences unt i l shewas able to re turn to wr it ing fu l l t ime. Blessed with a newindependence and empowered out look, she s t r ives to use herwri t ing as a voice for women who may fee l l ike they have lost

their own whi le


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eyv_ening_magic

Bio: A unique eye forphotography and a poetic

soul. Search #eppoetry

By E.P.

Tigress


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ofmusesandastronomers

petitepoems

Bio: Adrianna Osho wrote herfirst novel at 10. Now in her20s, she pines over that vividimaginatio n and 5th grade workethic. When she isnt pining,Adrianna writes poetry, shortstories, and screenplays. Shealso Googles cats in sweaters.

Bio: Mallory Rowe is a poetfrom Alabama. She is currentlyworking on her second book ofhaiku. Her work centers aroundspirituality, the cosmos, and

philosophy.

Indie Affair Page 7

Te ars l ike fa l l ing s tars- -

Only to be wished uponBy the innocent

The Passenger

By Adri O

By m.r.

Youve made your darkness mineA re luctant passenger on th is r ide

My l ight has ceased to sh ineFor our act ions are inter twined

Yo ur badness is now mineEvery bone that you gr ind

Every secret you hide ,Every l i e you keep ins ide

Yo uve taken root in my bra in ,

hemorrhag ing seeds , no novoca ineCancerous pa in , immuni ty shot

s ick for daysa l l my s t rength rots

S lave to your wi l lmany poisonous thr i l l s

you drag me a longwho wi l l s ing my swan song?


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just____sayin

Bio: I love writing and playingwith words, their timing andaesthetics. I love twisting andsqueezing them to see whatthey can become. I try to writein as many different ways asI can. Mixing horror, comedy,love and tragedy. I write formyself mainly, but if just oneother person reads me andenjoys it, then Im made up. I

also really enjoy reading otherpeoples works.

Terror Rising

By A.T.G

I h a v e t o s t a y s t i l l , m u m a n d d a d a r e b o t h d e a dA n d I m c u r l e d u p h i d i n g u n d e r t h e i r b e dI c a n h e a r s n a r l i n g a n d b r e a t h i n g s o m e w h e r e o v e r h e a dA n d I m t r y i n g t o s t i f l e m y c r y i n g

I t s s t e n c h i s l i k e v o m i t w i t h p u t r i d u n d e r t o n e sI keep hear in g i t crunch ing , and I jus t know that i t s bonesI c a n f e e l m y h e a r t b e a t i n g o v e r i t s g r o a n sA n d I m g a g g i n g t o s c r e a m b u t d e n y i n g

I c a n s e e m y y o u n g b r o t h e r a s I l o o k a t t h e d o o rH e s f r o z e n w i t h f e a r a s t h i s t h i n g g i v e s a r o a rI m w i l l i n g h i m h a r d t o l i e d o w n o n t h e f l o o rA n d h e l o o k s s o c o n f u s e d , b u t h e s n o t c r y i n g

I s m e l l a w a r m p u t r i d b r e e z e a s a f a c e l e v e l s m i n eO p e n i n g m y e y e s , a n d I s i n k , i t s m y t i m eD r u g o u t b y t h e h a i r w h i l e d i s l o c a t i n g m y s p i n eT h e l a s t t h i n g I h e a r i s m e d y i n g

T h a t s m y s i s t e r h i d i n g , s h e s s c a r e d a n d r i g h t t h e r e

S h e w h i s p e r s s o m e t h i n g , b u t I d o n t r e a l l y c a r eI ve com m anded m y m ons t e r t o d r ag he r ou t by he r ha i r ,A n d a s i t e a t s h e r t h e f e e l i n g s e l e c t r i f y i n g

T h e i r m i s t a ke wa s i n t h i n k in g I wa s t he i r i n no c e n t ch i l dB u t t h e t r u t h i s t h a t b o y h a s b e e n d e a d f o r a w h i l eI k i l l e d h i m i n w a y y o u d c o n s i d e r m o s t v i l e ,A n d I w a s l e f t c o v e r e d i n h i s b l o o d , s o l i d i f y i n g

S o w h e n y o u t u c k i n y o u r c h i l d r e n a n d y o u k i s s t h e mgoodn igh t and they t e l l you the r e s som e th ing unde r th ebed , t hey r e r i gh t ; w e j u s t f ade ou t o f v i ew w hen you tu rn

o n t h e l i g h t , b u t w e a r e t h e r e , a n d w e r e t r u l y t e r r i f y i n g


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Indie Affair Page 9

I long for the sun;Its rays to mel t the ice that

Has frozen my heart .* * *

I long for the ra inTo wash away the sul l en

Chord in my bosom.* * *

I long for s ta rs

To daze my eyes wi th br ight g low;Help b l ink back the tears .

* * *I long for the wind

To car r y my thoughts and l i f tMy spir i t up.

* * *P ieces o f long ing ,

Embedded in my soul andEtched in my be ing.

Pieces o f LongingBy Mara

mmmmmra

Bio: My name is Mara, a MoonChild Filipina, who started writing- silly love poems - in high school.And for a long time, I thoughtwriting was my medium togetaway, but when I found myselffloating aimlessly in the realm ofAI and slowly becoming a techslave, there I truly realized that

writing is not just my escape.Writing is actually my comfortzone. So I abandoned my day job

and journeyed back home.


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Ed Ragtnava Free Artist andPhotographer

Bio: Ed Ragtnava is a recordingartist, free artist andphotographer who also printsan extremely obscure freeunderground documentaryzine that features interviewswith some of the very bestin independent music fromaround the world today. Hecurrently releases rare freerecordings mostly underdifferent project namessuch as Indian Pipes, PsychicPaintings, and Kosmische

Oasis

By Ed Ragtnava


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b_younique_tm

Bio: My name is BillizaUnique Johnson; I am a childof God! I am from SoutheastArkansas, the Mallard duckcapital of the world. I am a19-year-old college studenttrying to make a differencewith every encounter I havewith others, whether itsthrough music, poetry, danceor my photography. I ammajoring in photojournalism

and minoring in business,hoping to later have my own

Thank You, Jesus

By B_yoUnique

Wake up and take up my crossAl l the th ings I wi l l g a in and

the th ings that have been a lossDressed in whi te to seem so pure

Chr is t Jesus i s my cureFrom my sinful ways

I thank you, God, for a l l the daysI refused to pray

We a l l make mistakesWe a l l have a point where we break ,and at that t ime, theres only so much

more we can takeWe are saved by g race

because of His love, one day I w i l l see His faceBut unt i l then, I w i l l cont inue wi th th is race

Probably, need to s tep up my paceSomet imes l i fe seems l ike a wasteBut i t s not - dont l ive in haste ;

rushing every day wont make your pain go awayLet a lone s top i t f rom happening .Living in a daze is not how we are

meant to spend ou r days ,Li fe i s not a game we can just p lay.

Centered around One Namethat I w i l l forever proc la im,

the one who saved me from Satan,that l i l punk had me wai t ing

to get my l i fe together to come to Jesusl ike I m not worthy of my f i l th iness .

He loves m e anyway,

Even though my ly ing , lus t ing , and adul teryput Him on the cross to suffer phys ica l ly ;

the s tory i s over Satan sa idNah, Bruh, i t s jus t a buffer .

I t i s f in i shed were Jesus l as t words on the crossSatan then exper ienced a g reat loss ,

death defeated on the third day.Oh, what a hor rendous debt He had to pay,

but now I can proudly say,Thank you, Jesus, just as I am, I come.

Hal le lu jah , oh what amazing love .


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presh_thypoetjw

Bio: Precious Oboh is acreative and passionate writerof all genre of poetry. He hasworks forthcoming in otheravenues, including FramelessSky, The Mamba Journal,and Undertow Tanka Review.Hes has both Bachelors andMasters Degrees in Historyfrom Ambrose Alli Universityand University of Benin,

Nigeria, respectively.


June 24th, 1842 was the b i r th of Ambrose B ierce . He wasone of the great journa l i s t s and short s tory wr i ters of the19th century Amer ican west . Establ i sh ing h is reputat ion wi ththe novels A Fiends Del ight and Cobwebs From an EmptySkul l becoming the countr ies most famous wr i ter . From 1887to 1908 he worked off and on for the San Franc isco Examiner ,publ i sh ing col lect ions of s tor ies : In the Midst of Li fe andCan Such Things Be? His most famous work i s a col lect ion ofsat i r ic def in i t ions , The Devi l s Dict ionary ( f i r s t publ i shed asThe Cynic s Word Book in 1906) . In 1913 he set out for Mexicoand was never seen again.

June 30th, 1911 was the b i r th of Czes law Mi losz , who ranksamong the most respected f igures in twent ie th-century Pol i sh

l i tera ture , as wel l as one of the most respected contemporarypoets in the wor ld : he was awarded the Nobel Pr ize for Li teraturein 1980.Among some of the incredib le books and poetr y he has wr i t ten :Native Realm, To Begin Wh ere I am, The C aptive Mind, A Boo kof Luminous Th ings.

July 4th, 1832 Lewis Carrol beg ins wr i t ing Al ice in Wonder landand f ina l ly publ i shed in 1865 then i t s sequel , Through theLooking Glass in 1871. Lewis Carrol l was the church deacon andmathemat ic ian who wrote the famous fantasy books . Or ig ina l lyconce ived as nursery ta les for the d aughter of fami ly f r iends ,

they quick ly became c lass ics of chi ldrens l i tera ture . LewisCarrol l a l so wrote l ight verse , inc luding The Hunt ing of theSnark .

The leaves r ust le and crackleUnderneath our feet as we ga i t

Along th is path of aurora g lowThe cr i spy smel l of autumn.

The a ir i s c lean and plush;autumn orchestra ted ar ia of b i rds

ga ie ty grace our presenceThat g aze in your eyes

Sends me dr i f t ing in the azure sky .

The fa l len leaves areBr i l l i ant ly aurous ,

But they are not as beaut i fu l

As you are when you beamwith that rad iance of an Angel .

By Precious Oboh

Autumnal Bliss

Literary Days of Note:


17/51

andrea.brammer.3

Bio: Illustrator with Life AfterDeath Publicationz. I grewup in Iowa with 2 sisters, mymom and dad. I love cats. Iwas able to multiply smallnumbers when I was only 4

yea rs o ld and I f ound a love fornumbers when I was in highschool. I have pursued thedream of crunching them for

most of my adult life. I alsospent many hours relievingstress and the trials of beinga teen with my art. To date Ihave illustrated one childrensbook called Toby Goes tothe Beach by Diamond. Asthe new mom of a year oldbaby girl, I enjoy drawing,illustrating, and reading in thelittle bit of spare time I canfind in my busy day. I work asa CNA, and also help with mymothers publishing company.

By Andrea Brammer



18/51


Joan McNerney

Bio: Joan McNerneyspoetry has been included innumerous literary zines suchas Camel Saloon, Seven CirclePress, Dinner with the Muse,Blueline, Missing of the Birds,and included in Bright HillsPress, Kind of A HurricanePress and Poppy Road Reviewanthologies. She has beennominated three times for

Best of the Net.

Living in shadows, I scarce ly s t i r .Each mot ion br ings pa in wi th fearof fa l l ing , breaking br i t t le bonesor br uis ing my spider web sk in .

I see so l i t t l e . Sunl ight b l inds myrheumy eyes . Night d ims my wor ld

leav ing just vague out l ines .

Food is sta le , bi t ter . Thirst savage.

No l iquids quench me. My bodi ly funct ions of ten fa i l , befoul ing me.

A l l these years weigh down my soul .Hear ing faded everyth ing in whispers .My breath i s raspy, w i thout s t rength .

My mind dul l w i th defeat . I count only my losses and remember nothingbut the dead. My memory i s pa in .

I cannot ce lebrate b i r ths . My greatgrandchi ldren d ied so long ago.Why must I a lways wai t here?

God, have you forgot ten me?

By Joan McNerney

Methuselah Speaks


19/51

Bio: My poems cover everydayissues that we all deal with,I write of pain and loss, of

yearn ing and nee ding and ofheartbreak and confusion.

When I write, I want the readerto be able to lose themselvesin the story. I want them to

see themselves in each wordand to be able to relate.

I tend to go a little more tothe darker side of life and lovesimply because I find it moreinteresting and easier to holdmy attention and hopefully

the readers as well.


Savor The Darkness

By Steve Evans

Seduced by the shadows lust ing for my lovePossessed by l i es , knowing the secrets in the b lood

A fog invades my hear t turning i t to s toneI savor the darkness knowing I am a lone

The l ight i s forced forever f rom my soulA fa l len ange l never to be welcomed home

I become an unholy spawn des igned to k i l lS tea l ing your innocence and robbing your f ree wi l lI feed on your fear and de l ight in your sorrow

Kneel before me; your fa i th i s weak and hol lowLike the lamb led to s laughter you just b l indly fo l lowPurgatory i s your reward for be l iev ing in tomorrow

Yo ur s ins wi l l be why the Heavens fe l lAnd I l l be wait ing to drag you a l l to Hel lA fa l len ange l never to be welcomed home

I savor the darkness knowing I am a lone

An excerpt f rom my upcoming book, Weeping Wi l low:

I was lef t s tar ing into those same cold dead eyes that hadv is i ted me so many t imes before in my dreams. I was wait ingfor her sharp tongue to cut into my f lesh wi th accusat ions ofbroken promises and her advocat ing that my spi r i t be foreverdamned, but they never came. Instead, her words were ca lm,a lmost soothing , as she spoke wi thout movement .

For centur ies , I have suffered a lone . My hatred , g iv ing me l i febeyond death . My death , which fue ls my rage , was unwarranted.I searched for a soul that was s imi lar to mine , be l iev ing i t tobe nonexis tent , then, f rom the darkness I heard your anguish ,tasted your tears , and fel t your heartbreak. Your sorrow, sosweet , capt ivated me. It was a temptat ion e ven I couldnt res ist .So I searched you out , across the b ig empty heavens, t rave l ingthrough space and t ime to f ind you. We are k indred spi r i t sbrought together by death , our souls bound by sorrow, andwhere only one once dwel led two hear ts sha l l become the same. With that , she gent ly l a id her hand on my chest , c losed hereyes , and af ter a few moments , she sa id I p lace upon your soul my mark , a mark that can ne i therbe seen nor washed away. You may not remember, today ortomorrow, but someday you wi l l come to understand i t s ful l

ramif icat ions and on that day I wi l l return for you. For now,you need your res t .Then she whispered Sleep, s leep . . . s leep.


20/51


Bio: This is one of the manywritings Ive done so. For morecheck out my blog page atwww.ice-princezz.blogspot.

com

Bio: Shanissi is twenty yearsold. He was born and raisedin Germany then movedto Ireland and has someCongolese blood runningthrough hi, he is a wordsmithand knows how to evokesome of the most abandonedfeelings relating to relatable

situations. He started writingat 18 as a coping mechanism.Just like most of us, he almostlost himself in the darkestcorners of his mind. Thosethat he wouldnt let anyoneelse enter. Now, hes not onlywriting for himself but, for

you guy s too .

And ever y second s lowed to a s tandst i l l ,As you turned away for the las t t ime.The ra in drops s t i l l ed to a painfu l drag ,

The breath lef t me swif t ly to d ie .That n ight I opened the f i r s t b lank page,

To smear my inf in i ty of tears,S lash the empt iness wi th the ink of pa in ,

Pa int the words every soul fears .Every poetry cr ied in remorse ,

Your betraya l screamed in g othic colors,Ye t I found my peace in th is wor ld ,

As page af ter page sewed my broken hear t for another.

The quest ions that ar i se l ike tur moi l in my mind ever y day. . .How can I crown my queen,I f I dont accept my l ineage?

A k ing that ta lks wi th conf idenceand s tands wi th pr ide ,

A k ing l ike a l ion(People l ike f l i es scat ter a t h is roar )A k ing that isnt l abe led as a f raud,

A k ing that is perce ived as more than he accepts h imse l f tobe

(Powerfu l and broad) .I t took me t ime to f igure out ,

I had ideas about how to get there, but now, they just seem tocross themselves out .

I t r ied to be everyth ing a woman would want ,The man I should be,

but I a lways ended up miss ing the t r ue me.So I s tar ted to b e myse l f .

One cannot become a k ing and guide h is queen,I f cannot ru le h imse l f .

So now I say:I am, a king,

because I know I can govern myse l f .

By NaaZ

By Shanissi

My Book of Poetry

A King like a Lion

Midnight__Mist

shanissi_says


21/51


Poetry gave me a voice when Iwas too shy to express myselfaround others. Ive been writingsince I could bury myself inthe adventure of reading. Asa mother of three, a full timeteacher, with a supportiveand loving husband, I feel thatthe written word and creative

expression feeds the soul.

w w w . w a t t p a d . c o m / u s e r /CDougherty83

A Few Enticing Words To

Stimulate Contemplation:

Syzygy: (n) an alignment of celestial bodies.

Vellichor: (n) the strange wistfullness of

used bookstores.

Cromulent: (n) appearing legitimate, but

actually being spurious.

Sonder: (n) the realization that each passerby

has a life as vivid and complex as your own.


22/51


Bio: Katie Ness is an artistwith a B.A in Fine Art, a tribalfusion belly dancer, and poet.She is a contributing writerfor Yogi Approved and BadYogi and has work featuredon Elephant Journal and Eat.Breathe.Thrive. Katie is also aKids yoga & dance tutor and

is currently working on herfirst illustrated poetry [email protected]

My lifestyle blog: http://blog.sunflowerteeth.com

Once upo n a t imeI fe l l in love wi th a w i ld horse on the moon

I swal lowed every lus t fu l word,And i t scorched me l ike the sun.

The th ick , hot deser t fe l l out of i t s mouth.Masking the sand as rav ish ing d iamonds

And I drank i t a l l up l ike a ravenous animal ,Starved of bread and mi lk ,

Squeezed from a hear t s tone .I tas ted gr i t between my teeth ,A pa le ra in for med my tears.

And ash fe l l f rom the s tars in the dusky sky.

He to ld me I was bewi tching ,And he to ld me in such a way,That I be l ieved h im.

What a b it ter and br uta l th ing?Ours was a wrecking k ind of love ,

Broken open by the f l ight of hummingbirds .

By Katie Ness

katiesunflowerteeth

Your hands l ike ra in pour into the sky of my body,The war mest tas te of your tongue,

The sof t sea of your sa l t ,The secrets of your s to ic hear t ,The wi ld p lum of your b lood,

And I am wr ith ing l ike a kest re l a lof t w is t fu l waters.

Yo ur ar ms l ike p ines reach up to the heavens of my soul ,The fera l f rag rance of your sk in ,

The pr ivate de l ight in your moonl i t eyes,The pr imordia l sun in your bones,

The undress ing of my throbbing hear t ,And I am unrave l ing into a thousand sensua l s tars.

The Sky Of My Body

Once Upon A Time


23/51

saracwilsonart

Bio: : Sara Wilson is a painterliving and working in Victoria,BC Canada. Oil paint is hermost beloved medium but shealso enjoys pen and ink whenshe is feeling a little lessserious. www.etsy.com/shop/

sarawilsonartFacebook.com/sarawilsonart


My inspi ra t ion i s drawn from the femalef igure . I pa int women in poses that showcasethe beauty and s t rength of the female form. Il ike to p lay wi th v ibrant vs subt le colour and

l ight ing to enhance each piece .

Candice

By Sara Wilson

Oil on Claybord


24/51


wanderfeedsmysoul

Bio: My name is Masha, I am abook junkie and a cat lover. Iam currently putting my firstpoetry book together while

working and living in Milan.Website:

www.wanderfeedsmysoul.com His eyes have p ierced meDown on my knees I wasI thought I l l p lay a long

S ince He has ceased me wi th His j aws

I thought the ru les were c learI thought the game was joy and pass ion

I thought my v ic tory was nearI thought His k i l l ing i s only t rue

When danger mur murs into His ear

He bi t me once , but I was braveI tamed the creatures of His l ike before

He wounded me again to my

bewildermentI was pat ientI wont g ive up, I swore

I have grown desperate wi th t imeMy aching cuts were open

In agony, I str ived for He was mineWith a l l His pa in and words unspoken

Unwanted I fo l lowed Him aroundConsumed wi th His sa lvat ion

He i s not a monster .

I thought deep downHis cru e l ty I l l conquer

Fear less, I he ld my g round

For Him, I walked through thornsHe roared: at l as t , my sweethear t !

Scowl ing , He ran into my armsTo r ip my chest apar t

B leedingI fe l l into h is c laws

I am not your pre y.I spoke

He whispered: But I have won.

by Masha

Orso


25/51


angela7022

Bio: My name is Angela. I livein Austin, Texas. I am a mom of2 and a wife of 1. My passionis writing and photography. I

hope you enjoy my work.

by Angela

Snow Valley, Utah


26/51


Bio: A writer striving forgreatness, while assistingthose closest to me in theirown creative ventures, Iam the shadowy fiend thatclings to sadness and despair,wriggling my tendrils overgaping wounds, to pull outbloody red gems that twinklein the moonlight. I hope thatthese pieces will be able totouch your mind, your heart,and your soul, as they pass on

through yours. Enjoy.~The Devourer Of Darkness Latching onto a s ing le thought ,

When was the las t t ime you looked around to seeeveryth ing you once had i s now gone,

The ones you fought and whove fought for you are now a l lgone,

And i t s a mirac le that they he ld on for so long,Consider ing how your obsess ions have had you in the dark ,

Pushing away the ones who s incere ly offered you thei rthoughts and af fect ions,

Their cares for you have turned to dust ,Al l thanks to the unwavering cur ta in youve enveloped

yourse l f in ,Shaking off the i r t rust whi le those fevered eyes stayed

locked dead center ,For you, there was nothing else but that one goal in your

hear t ,No chances to st ray and see the other poss ib i l i t ies ,

And now that youve got what you wanted,I have to ask are you happy with your choices?

These words won t reach your ears, though,Because in t r uth , I havent seen you for years ,

And I know that reaching out to put away my doubt ,To ask i f you are sat i s f ied wi th what youve got and what

youve been without ,Would only tear open these old scars and leave me in an

ocean of b lood and tears.

By Evander F.

Grass Is Always Greener...

devouring_maw


27/51


e.c.poetry_

Bio: Emma, a student andpoet, spends most of herspare time exploring thetherapeutic qualities whichpoetry provides. She has beenwriting creatively ever sinceshe could read and one daywishes to have a novel with

her name on it

By Emma C.

When You Think of Them

I am s i t t ing in a l ibrary, a p lace I wouldn t be , i f e ight yearsago, our body wasn t shot by fa te , l e f t to b leed out on thef loor boards that were a l ready the shade of f resh b lood.I t s t i l l f rust ra tes you that your mother s t i l l gets down onhands and knees t r ies to scrape away regret as i f i t weresomething that could be b leached and forgot ten about .

But when the b leach set t les in the cracks of the f loorboardsthey creak and crack , they wince and cry as the b leach set t lesinto the i r wounds , the i r ve ins , the i r b loodstream becausei t hurts when you t ry to fade away something l ike that . Ith ink e ight years have a l lowed me to master the sk i l l ofinha l ing f rustra t ion and exha l ing excuses to te l l them that Iam complete ly f ine wi th i t that I am ent i re ly f ine wi th notbreath ing the same a i r as them. What I was meant to saywas that I am tota l ly not f ine wi th no longer breath ing thesame, but I didnt have the energ y; I didnt have the breath.

I miss the way I could be so obl iv ious to the f laws ineveryth ing , and I miss the way I used to twir l a da isybetween my f ingers - but I guess the rea l reason why I mtear ing up into a puddle , i s because a dr ied up da isy jus t

fe l l f rom the pocket of a passer-byer , only to be t roddenon the same way I remember my soul d id . A l l tang led ve insl ike inter twined te lep hone chords a l l cracked ver tebrae l ikeshat tered porce la in , and I guess that s why I can no longerbreathe.

F ina l ly, I have lear ned that I shouldnt take every breath forgranted every breath that could turn into a breathtak ing ,pa instak ing , throat - res t r ic t ing death sentence because ofone day. Fate could escape i t s cage come run ning down thefootpath wi th a dagger made f rom the bones of our ownbody.


28/51


by Devon West

High Definit ion

Is par t of a s tudy regarding the contradict ion between over-shar ing and censor ing (speech, opin ions , nudi ty that i s notpornography) that occurs in everyday l i fe butmore so , exposed through the media ; which by be ingbroadcasted interferes wi th indiv idua l opin ion by becomingmass opin ion and a ru le . I t i s an obser vat ion to theway a major i ty are interact ing , beneath an invis ib le but ver ypa lpable pressure for so -ca l led authent ic i ty amidst the mobmenta l i ty that few have the courage to separate themselvesfrom. Leaning on the s ide of sa t i re ; i t poses the quest ionof be ing spent by everyone but ourse lves.

Bio: My name is Devon West.I am the author of The WildType. My work is a collectionof every person and experienceIve had; of endless hourswriting. My subjects are verypresent, close. The reader isinvited to join and partake in

the interpretation.The Wild Type available now onAmazon http://www.amazon.

com/dp/B010150E00Amazon http://www.amazon.

com/dp/B010150E00present, close. The reader isinvited to join and partake in

the interpretation.The Wild Type available now onAmazon http://www.amazon.

com/dp/B010150E00

Devon West


29/51


speakinginreflections

Bio: A traveler, a writer,beer consumer, baseballcard collecting, musicloving, cinema addict with apredilection for pin-ups andstaying up to see the sunrise. A musical nomad whohas a fondness for foreignchanteuses, and hard drivingdesert rock...with a mix of oldschool hip hop and hyper ska.I host a radio show on KAOS89.3 FM from Olympia,Washington. Im a single dadraising a 9-year-old daughterin this world. Just writingwords and living inside the

moments.

Porcela in sun kissedKnowing ever y inch

Eyes dr awn shutDreams of f ingert ips

Kiss ferventlySweat abo undsLoss of t ime

Inside moments

Inside l i fet im esMemories emblazonedAcross broken hear ts

Moments burnedOnto hearts mosaic

Forever in sideAlways one

Forever ap artAlways a lone

Morning sunshines

Two bodies nakedSouls connected

Through sweat and k issesSkin so magic

Goosebumps each t imeLitt le left for a irLungs f i l led t ight

Hands l ike explorersEyes l i ke maps

Cont inue onShores fore ign

By Frank C.

The Skin


30/51

Indie Affair PaPage 26Indie Affair

The whispers of tul ips caught on a pre-dawnmorning. While we are st i l l s leeping, or are at war,or lost on our own paths, l i fe around us - the force

of Mother Ear th s t i l l does go on .

By John S LES

The Secret Whispers of Tulips

NYEastsideEntertainment

Bio: John S LES (pseudonym). 51m. Born and raised on theLower East Side of, NYC. Formal education in New Yorkand New England. Informal education on the streets ofNYC. Currently works in the law enforcement community(hence the pseudonym). Blogger, photographer, writer.My main goal to create projects to positively assistpeople to engage with one another.in this world. Just

writing words and living inside the moments.


31/51

Indie Affair Page 27ge

Writing_Echo

Bio: Well, Im a 18 year oldhigh school student. For mywriting, I prefer to go by Echo

Haywood

Somet imes I wish I could hate you,Or I wish I could a t least s tay mad a t you.

Yo u ignored me, you hur t me, and you broke me.Then you seemed to complete lyvanish from my l i fe wi thout a word.I was le f t confused, hurt , and broken.

But I to ld myse l f to forget you,To move on, to be st ronger.

And just when I thought I was star t ing to succeedin forget t ing you.

Yo u suddenly showed up on the scene ag ain .And wi th you I complete ly

forget how you hurt me,(No, you d id more than that , )how you complete ly broke me!And yet , I couldnt be ang r y.

I just made excuses for you in my mind,And forgave you wi thout you even saying sor r y.

I ve done that too many t imes beforeNow youre gone aga in ,

I m not s ure for h ow long.And suddenly I remember thatI m supposed to be mad a t you.Oh, why cant I just hate you?

You have no r ight to wa ltz into my l i f e ag ain ,

And dance away with my hear t , (pa thet ic and weakas i t may be.)You have no r ight to p lay wi th

my fee l ings and emot ions .And yet , how can I blame you?

I should be b laming me.Cuz I never s tood up for myse l f .

Yes, you never should have hur t me.But more importantly , I never should have let you.

I know better , and yet . . .I s t i l l can never s tay mad a t you

I can never seem to stand up for me.

I a lways just forgive you, and love you,Then you hur t and break me

And the cycle repeats i t se l f aga in .

By Echo Haywood


32/51


amy.johnson.poetry

The colors - I dont want to look away, b l ink ing i s toolong to be away when star ing at the sunset . Almostpainful how it is far too f leet ing a lways moving and

leaving me here wh en i t s ful ly gone. Even when go ne,the image that l ay gent ly in my mind i s s t i l l t ime lessas the un iverse i tse l f .

They dance in th is image, f ree and amazing I swearthese colors , the rad iance of them, they are cur ious lypainted by a l l the free souls themselves, splashingcolors about scur ry ing through the sky. I p ic ture themalmost in a f renzy for one f ina l moment , as they bounceto the stars before the i r next jour ney into th is bodyof restra int .

I t s as i f the soul explodes free wi th a l l pass ion andl ight of be ing l imi t less . So rad iant that every th ingin the sky ref lec ts the u l t imate knowledge mixed inperfect ion in a f lash of the freedom that touchesthe sky i s on d isp lay for a l l of us to see the i r f ina l

v iewing. That is a p layg round for souls for an inf in i temoment.

Sometimes I wonder, how does something so dense,so abundant and vast and yet so l ight and trans ient ,

we ight less such as vapors of the sky make sense. Thesky s i t s as i f on duty to perform in such ways as atease reminding us that we wi l l a lways be car ry ing somuch even when convinced to be so free and l imi t less .

When I have a day where I dream a l i t t le dream of

By Amy Johnson

Twin Soul Colors

Bio: Amy Johnson lives inChicago. After securing herfirst publishing contract in2014, they released her debutbook of poetry in November of2015. She achieved bestselleraccreditation on Amazon,and her book is availableworldwide with 200+retailers. She is currentlynegotiating terms with new

publisher Promenade Pressfor a 2017 new release. Amyalso became a contributingwriter for lifestyle blog Thirtyon Tap for a column each issueplus an astral feature of fullmoon, planetary, and energydetails, tips, and suggestions.(IG http://instagram.com/thirtyontap and webhttps://30ontap.com ) Amyhas also written for numerousliterary journals, blogs, and

webpages.

Amys FB Writing page-w w w . f a c e b o o k .

c o m / A m y - J o h n s o n -Poetry-160412394299362/


33/51


being that sky of spark le , and the wor ld seems too hard . Thisi s when I f ind my s i s ter who pointed me to my soul . She i sa lways there, we s i t on the grass wi th th is sky of temporaryde l ight , we speak soft ly and wi th purpose of be ing there inthe stars.

We are th is universe and hold i t a l l in our eyes. The stars areus, and we watch as we feel i t is us that we get to observe.

We are the twinkl ing star that seems to dance wi th wonder.We are the t ip of the red on the most magica l of sunsetswhen the colors a lmost dare you to dream a b ig ger dreamthat n ight .

The har mony of be ing one wi th the universe. That twinkl ingstar- that wi l l explode soon, for that s why i t twinkles, andit s not the death of a star , i t s the bri l l iant and awe capturedbir th of a new se t of souls se t forth She dest iny, for I cannothe lp but be brea th less a t the thought of i t .

Se t forth on the t imeless journey , wi th that fee l ing wi th inof a sadness of s t r i fe . Only to know that there i s a purposeand a dr ive to f ind the other parts of them. For the soulsknow. They dance in the ra inbows, and they twinkle in thestardust of the i r incredib le journey of soul f r iends danc ingand twir l ing and f loa t ing on the t ips of the i r toes in thestree t whi le the sunsets in the background. Swing from themoon and dash through the s unset , f ree .

That i s t he only way t o d escr ibe t he wonder a nd g i f t o f f r iendsof the soul in human for m. For the body and thoughts donot do just ice to the miracle of th is . Radiant co lors of thesunset , in one moments look the sp i r i ted , f ie rce , nomadicstory of a l i fe t ime be ing a warr ior seek ing home in the

v is ionar ies soul .


34/51

I only had two thing s in this world. On e was a smal l wel l andthe other a s i lver coin that my father gave me when he wasal ive . I worked hard every day and earned l i t t le money tomeet my dai ly ne eds. One day whi le I was drawin g water fromthe wel l to drink, the si lver coin sl ipped from my pocket andfe l l into the we l l , heartbroken for the coin was the only th ingI had le f t of my fa ther . Dec ided to go to the we l l in searchfor the coin . I secured the rope t ight ly a round my be l ly andstarted descending in the wel l .

There was darkness in there , but I kept going for I wasdetermined to f ind the coin . I suddenly saw l ight a t the bottom

of the we l l . I was so surpr i sed and a t that moment , the ropebroke . I shr ieked and fe l l in the water . I s t rugg led in waterthen came to the surface . What I saw next surpr i sed me tomy extreme. There was another world under the wel l . It was

way more beaut iful than the wor ld above. I saw a fa i r y a tsome dist ance who was looking at me with wide eyes. I couldnot be l ieve my eyes . I t was the land of fa i r ies and the fa i r ystanding in front of me was the most beaut i fu l th ing I hadever la id eyes upon.

Wow, Da ddy, who was s he? She was your mother sa id the k ing of fa i ry land wi th asmile .


labeeda.the.artist

by Labeeda Farid

The Magical We l l

Bio: A 22-year-old with apassion for art and writing,which gives me such

satisfaction.


35/51


By (am.i)

Age Old Question

_am.i_

Bio: Having always writtenunder a pen name, this writeris as anonymous as theyget. Not out to seek fame orappreciation, all she wishesis that her words will inspiresomeone to be better, to feel

better, to do better.Perhaps one day youll see herbook hidden between otherson a library shelf near you.

Funny, because youll nevereven know its hers.

This house was buil t in the 19 30s,during the pre-war housingboom. A per iod of a ff luence

where the r ich got r icher and thepoor suf fered. My hou se i t wasmade for old money. I imagine

who l ived here somet imes,r ight before I go to s leep . Animage conjures in my mind of a

woman: the sof t planes of herface , her soft brown eyes, hersoft l ips. Would she have bee nfashionable? Did she care thatt imes were changing? Did sheopt to part ic ipate in the newtrends, the long sl im dresses

wi th hems jus t be low the kneeand the padded shou lders? Didshe wear a belt around her

waist?

What d id she care about?I looked i nto her. The de tect ive

in me couldnt resist rearingher head when she heard mycur ious quest ion: whose house

were we l iv ing in?

We found she was indeed awoman, she d id care aboutfashion, and she certa inly wasold money. She was ratherpopular in the society , wel l -respected by those who didntrespect others. We dug a l i t t le

deeper, our curiosi ty peaked,and found her dia ry in the localarchives. More than anything,i t consis ted of compla ints ofher husband.

We reached the par t whereshe revealed how much shedisl iked her act iv ist husband,how she resented that he

was so interes ted in theAfr ican-Amer ican c iv i l r ightsmovement, how she grudgedover his communicat ions with

the NAACP. There was muchshe didnt l ike about him, butmostl y, she hated his incl inatio ntowards the working c lass.Sheherse l f d idnt care much forthe lower c lasses, bel ievingthey were hopeless, incl inedto rob the r ich. How strangethat a capi ta l i s t should marrya communist .

After learn ing of her, I beganto think what would she thinkof me res id ing in her home

Would she hate me? What wouldher husband thin k? (I l l admitI had somewhat of a s t rangeadmirat ion for her now-deadhusband. )

I wonder i f maybe that s whyIve never been a t peace in t hishouse. Maybe th e reason why I

fe l t an interna l tug s ince f i rs tshift ing here is because thebui lding I reside in is bui l t onthe foundat ions of a s t rugg lethat has ru ined internat iona lre lat ionships and taken mil l ionsof l ives. I f America and Russ iai f Europe , c rumbled under thepol i t ica l brawl , what am I incompar ison?

What s a poor hear t , my poor

heart , supposed to do in themidst of i t ? I don t have thearmies they had, the weaponsthey had, the m orale they ha d

Al l I have i s the red wal l s of myheart that wi l l never understand

wars.

And we a l l know how eas i lywal l s a re taken down


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carousel.musings

retrievements

By CarouselMusings

By Peter C.

Day Terrors

The Fa ult

Bio: Simply trying to capturethe world around me withhopes it will resonate in

others.

Bio: Peters poetry is usuallyan effort to give vision to theseveral voices that bubble tothe surface of his mind with afew intriguing phrases, or togive voice to the visions thatinterrupt his daily routine.His latest poems are soundsand sights hes found himselftranscribing from his dreams

as he awakens from them.

Living in denia l fue ls thedevi l s f i re

Where i s your des i re to leavethe mire?

Another day g one away.Do you real ly want to stay?

The ter ror. The hor ror.Another day made hol low.

Set your soul on f i re .Ar t . Music. Words.

Dont let these day terrors

fuel the dark.

As copse takes leaf of robins r uby breathand green uproots g ray pangs of f rost (n ight s

g loomgrown th ick wi th fogg y groans) in gold th is b less

of s t ee l f rom some corner of the sun b loomsremembrancers of cold departed , now

enthroned in Apr i l s oak , or how in fa l lf rom loams that furrow wi th the ha i l - rakes , boughs

take b lush in cr imson sk ies that pul l the pa l lfrom summers pale but s leeping face: each

thought

that surpr i ses , a l l breaths that thought surpassengorge th is fau l t where mingles t ime to knot

th is s ing le error , th is swerve that br ings me backwhere a l l th ings g ather, o ld wears b lossoms new-

this death less g rove , where every branch bearsyou.


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poeticnutjob

Bio: 39. Macon Georgia.Divorced Father of 2teens. Works full time as acollections analyst. Hopefullysoon to be engaged. Amateurphotographer on Redbubble.com as DonbphotographyTwo books, self-publishedvia Createspace, both can befound on Amazon.com andKindle. Titles: The GroceryStore: Eclectic Poetic &

Noticed You Thinking.

Marr ied to a wor ld gone by

born out of t ime, in a p lace long forgot ten

a smal l c i ty devoid of beer

wi th a d is t inct l ack of popcorn

Barges of o ld cars l a in faded, rusty on roads ides

s topped where abandoned

windows crusted over by years

Mi l e s of unsounded au to-horns

damp st reets , overgrown s igns

rot ted t rash making the smel l . . . fore ign

doors lef t open there and here

. . . and ra in s t i l l pours

By Don B.


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ryan.vallee

By Ryan Vallee

Digging You

Bio: Ryan is a writer fromMichigan, whos trying tomake a dollar out of 15 cents.

I l l never know where you hide

I understand

but i t s my f irst t ime

on th i s s ide of the door

and i t fee l s a b i t l ike le t t ing a candle

burn out every t ime you d im away

i t fee l s l ike I cant he lp you

or that you wont let me

i t fee l s he lp less

that I m dig g ing a t concreteor c lawing on s tee l

pul l ing a t ree f rom the ground

that rooted twenty-e ight years ago


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the_inkdiary

By -the_inkdiary

Darkness

Bio: I am from Chandigarh,India. I am 18 years in age. I

simply love writing poetry

An inf in i te canopy, an a imless pathThe as tute profus ion

Cal l s you into commence a journey into i t s hol lows!

For once you are in ,I t i s the master and you i t s s lave !

Shr ieks into absolute s i l ence i t swal lows,S i lenc ing a l l cr ies into i t s dear thy-profus ion. . .

Dr iv ing you through invis ib le w i l lows !

And there the broken autumn leaves lay l i fe less,Mut ing the i r pass ionate verses. . .

Surrender ing to the a i r s whisper ing curses !Darkness i t is they say. . .

The mis leading seduct ion. . .u rge of the n ight !The spi r i t s fur y for the day !

I t commences wi th in the sedat ive lu l l aby

And i t s end. . .A myster y. . . Unasked. . . Untold . . .

Al l we know is that one t r uthThat your be loved dr ives you in . . .Te mpt ing you into an inf in i te k in !

And you the prey. . . sur render wi th an undec is ive wi l lInto that darkness . . . The inf in i te empt iness !


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nayanika_niks

theillusionist_insight

By The Illusionist Insight

Ashes Of Life

Sculpted Heart

Bio: Im Nayanika Dey fromIndia. Im 22. Im a student an da writer blogger. I was lost inthe middle of the ocean. ThenI found poetry to help me tossthe waves of life. Im living my

life, chasing my dreams.

Bio: ITwenty-two years oldand I cannot lie. Sometimes Ifeel as old as the dirt path onwhich I walk each day. I havecome to learn that my soul isone with the elements. Hence,words strung into rhymesand sentences breathing lifehave lent me a place to callhome. These pieces weavethe illusions in my head, thedoorway to escape the worldof reality at a simple touch ofa pen. I exist in the mundaneworld as a Dental studentseeking to put smiles on facesin real time, from my Guyanese

heart to yours.Wordpress Blog:theillusionistinsight

When my dead bodyWould be set on f i re ,

The ashes that would whelpWould k iss me

And accumulateMy remains ,

With the i r embrac ing ar msTo take meAnd add me

Back to the breast of the ear th ,For dust was I

And dust sha l l I re turn .By -Nayanika Dey

I f I were to be hones t ,They would scream at the words I re lay,

Thinking I lost my hear t to love they say,For only cr ippled breaths and pa ins in the chest ,

Sculpt the mundane mind,Into the ar t i s t s inferna l tes t ,

But the inf in i te t icker beneath my breast ,Was inc l ined to the beauty of mank ind ,

Long before the bat t le of love ,I surrendered my hear t to words.


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The sun was ever shin ing, ever g lowing, and scorching tomany even myse l f though Iwas born in Guyana . Guyana i sa smal l country located on the coast of South America .

Part of the Car ibbean, the weather consists of only twoseasons; the wet season and the dry season. This means

that when i t ra ins i t pours and i f i t s hot you are bound toneed more than just two lemonades to keep you cool .

To many who have g rown up here they dream of leav ing togo to America , Canada or the UK. The prospect of bet teropportuni t ies and becoming a part of the a ff luent wor ldare quite a l luring. I too was once caught up in that desireunt i l I began to look c lose ly a t what th is smal l , humble andbeaut i fu l country had to offer .

Jo in wi th me open your eyes look a t the beaut i fu l sunset ;the aurea te colors l inger ing onthe border of shore and sky .

My heart knew i t was home one af ter noon on the bus r idehome as I watched the golden sun p lay ing h ide and seekamong the lush green of the t rees .


The Illusionist Insight

My Golden Sun, Guyana

theillusionist_insight

Bio: ITwenty-two years oldand I cannot lie. Sometimes Ifeel as old as the dirt path onwhich I walk each day. I havecome to learn that my soul isone with the elements. Hence,words strung into rhymesand sentences breathing lifehave lent me a place to callhome. These pieces weavethe illusions in my head, thedoorway to escape the worldof reality at a simple touch ofa pen. I exist in the mundaneworld as a Dental studentseeking to put smiles on facesin real time, from my Guyanese

heart to yours.Wordpress Blog:theillusionistinsight


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Reaching beyond the gr ime and f i l th , pushing through

moribund bl ight , which is my inanimacy; enveloping

shadows of death wi thout t ime to ensconce . Innermost

hol lowness huddled by lone ly n ights , mourning .

St i l lness remains wi th pass ing t ides wi thout ca lmness to

soothe even the gent lest s igh . Pendulous by the fut i le

st r ide of t ime , heavy upon her shoulders , the weight of

her cr imes. Forgotten is the abi l i ty to love, and grant

herse l f forg iveness.

Dampened are screams of the chi ld she holds unf l inchi

ng ly to her heart ; tang ib i l i ty in cadence of a wor ld slamenta t ion exudes her tenderness . By the abhorrence

of t ransgress ion, her happiness i s found. Embrac ing the

hand of death , a sent imenta l caress usher ing the f ina le .


hellionsaint

By HellionSaint

Lament for Her

Bio: My poetry is me weeping,like a little girl in a cornergripping her torn stockingscovered in blood. It is mysoul screaming as the worldturns a blind eye; they smileas my teeth clench in rage. Idie every time an Angel loseshis wings, though, I will stillcomfort you. I am man, rebornin the bloodied wings of fallen

angels.


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This ar t piece was inspi red by the dream that I had about al i t t le boy who could speak to the stars. Lucian which meansl ight in Lat in, is what I ca l l him by. Orig inated from beyondl imi ts known, he incarnates wi th grea t p lans to make earth a

bet ter p lace


luvinafr

By Luvina

Lucian and The Stars

Bio: An aspiring graphic artistin creating art with iPhoneapps on her phone as heronly palette. Led by intuition,dreams, pain and love, shetransforms everyday momentsinto a delicate, ethereal and

vibrant fused art.


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open_journal

Bio: I began writing as a wayto escape my reality and inturn, discovered I didnt haveto escape. I could bleed myreality onto pages and releasethe pain. All while connecting

It didnt really matter which way I went,every path led back to his Cheshire smile,

and vanishing acts.I knew what happened to curious mindsstill I took his hand and let my heart fall.

Suddenly everything made sense

while nothing made sense at al l in hisintoxicatingly addictive Wonderland.

I took shelter in his arms as shadows dancedwe swayed, believ ing our nights eternal.

But nothing was as it seemed.Chasing blue eyes and silhouettes through the brush,

around every bend, a rose from his past.They ensnared me in thei r thorns,

warning me to run back the way I came,to find home,

or I would love h im too.It would be a greater fate to lose my head,

they mocked than to lose my heart.But I couldnt go back to who I was beforelove had changed me in mysterious ways.

I found myself as I found him perched asidea willow tree overlooking a crystal clear stream

beckoning me.His half truths spoken like riddles with no last line,

I had gone mad, as had he.Our madness an adventure forever to last.

For LB who will always be my Cheshire, my Hatter, my adventure,

my madness, and my sanity.

By KLP

Cheshire Grin


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b0xxhead

Bio: 870 Gang These are my words Okay, todays a new day IX TrapRatwith many beautiful soulswhom share the same

Live by the book, but wr i te your own laws , produce f laws .They ca l l the system a rock , but i t s not indestr uct ible -

I t s indescr ibable how the peop le die and watch thei rfami l ies t ry to get over the loss .

What s the cost of a soul? They te l l you to p lay your rol l ,but what i f you wanna raise ; anarchy i snt a phase.

Dont reckon with a force i f you don t know the source.

That t ree might be beaut i ful , but the seed i s evi l .Open the wound and reveal .

By b0xxhead


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pamela_Lukrecja_Rys

Bio: A contemporary artistwho works in a variety ofmedia. She lives and worksin London. She worked inIndustrial and Fashion Designwhile still studying Art andDesign. During her studies,she was working mainly bymeans of computers and visualediting software. Extensive

use of computers resulted inrestriction to the traditional,pure and free art forms whichwas one of the main reasons toput the design on hiatus andfocus on painting. Her planetseries paintings were sucha breakthrough that pavedthe way to the Darren BakerGallery in London. PamelaLukrecja is currently studyingpainting towards completing

the MA degree in Fine Arts.

This i s abstract pa int ing on canvas. I m cur rent ly creat ing anew ser ies of pa int ings about so lar system. I m inspired bystructure of p lanets and marks on the moon. This one wasinspired by the surface of Moon. I very much enjoyed paint ingprocess , because i t gave me a lot of room to exper iment . Ia lso d iscovered some new features of mater ia l s that I used . I t

i s mixed-media pa int ing in heavy impasto with acr y l ic pa ints ,ink , brocade and gesso .

Ar tist Statement: My ar tworks main ly exhib i t r ich internalfee l ings as wel l as the most somber corners of my soul infavour of cathar ist ic ef fect . I focus main ly on the emot ionals ide of the l i fe exper ience . Colours take the upmost importancehere . They symbol ize my fee l ings and the way I perce ive the

wor ld . The juxtapos it ion of whi te and black are in the sharpestcontrast to each other , which i s purposely used as a main formof express ion. They depict construct ive and destruct ive fee l ings

on the equal g round. My sty le i s of ten def ined by stenci l andtexture ar t . I work in a var iety of media because I a lways needto try new ways to express myself .

By Pamela Lukrecja

Oceanus Proce l larum


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Bio: The thing with words isthat, I understand them, andthey understand me. We nevergrow tired of listening to each

other.

I look around and see a tes tament of despondency,hopelessness , and desperat ion.

Oh, the way broken mortals smi le wi th a r ig id veneer of

euphor ia hiding thei r mount ing e mot ions , l iv ing thei r l ivesin eternal damnat ion.Their souls t ranscend to the fathomless depths of miser y,

St i l l bel ieving that they have been done n o injury.I perceive i t to be a n ightmare; a scarcely credible mystery

when I look around me, only to see people st r ug g l ingbl indly wi th the mselves .

In the wor lds torn despair , I can never t ruly know anyone,even mysel f .

So I jus t s tand there as I l ight another c ig aret te ,Tr ying to f i l l the s i lent sadness wi th in,

With anything but tears of reg ret .

By Hamza

Tear of a dying star

July 11th, 1960 , To Ki l l a Mockingbird i s publ ished by HarperLee. Her novel of growing up amid socia l tens ions in the

Amer ican South was publ ished in 1960 to g reat accla im androbust sa les . I t won a Pul i tzer Pr ize and was made into asuccessful 1962 f i lm starr ing Gregory Peck as the father ,

Att icus Finch.

July 16th, 1927 Theodore Geisel publ ishes his f i rs t c ar toonas Dr . Seuss . Perhaps the 20th centur ys most famou s authorfor chi ldren, Dr . Seuss wrote a nd i l lus trated nea r ly 50 booksof quirky chi ldrens verse dur ing his l i fet ime. His books werefamous for thei r funny rhymes an d whimsical characters .

July 30th, 1935 Paperback books were introduced.

August 3rd, 1861 The las t insta l lment of Great Expectat ionsis publ ished.

August 15th, 1947 The spee ch Tryst wi th Dest iny del iveredby Jawahar la l Nehru, the f i rs t Pr ime Minis ter of independentIndia , to the Indian Const i tue nt Assembly in The Par l iament ,on the eve of India s Independence, towards midnight on thisday. I t focuses on the aspects that t ranscen d India s his tory.I t i s cons idered to be one of the greates t speeches of the20th century and to be a landmark orat ion that capturesthe essence of the t r iumphant cu lmination of the l arge lynon-violent Indian independence s t r uggle ag ainst the Br i t i shEmpire in India .

Litarary Days of Note:


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Bio: Micala Royal wrote her firstpoem with her toes. As a young girl,she quickly discovered that dance,being a natural or instinctive formof creative self-expression andindividuality, would save her. Aself-proclaimed bunhead for life,Micala studied classical ballet forover fifteen years and trained in St.Petersburg, Russia prior to hanging

up the tutu. She needed a newlanguage for self-expression andthis time, she would use words.

During her last year of undergraduatestudies in Political Science, Micalabegan a torrid love affair withpolitical philosophy and developedan unhealthy addiction fordissecting philosophical arguments

and theories.

Thomas Hobbes Leviathan, coupledwith weekly doses of Aristoteli an andMachiavellian works, can be blamedof Micalas decent down the rabbithole, which resulted in a mastersdegree specializing in political

philosophy from the University ofAlberta.Micala and her husband arecreating a peaceful and inspired lifetogether in Western Canada, whereMicala is a full-time proposal writerfor an architectural and creativeDesign studio. If shes not workingon proposal submissions, you canfind her writing Melancholic poetryand prose at her favourite hookahlounge, obsessing over the sombermeditations of the Graveyard Poets,conversing with angels and plants,collecting black clothes and tattoos,and contemplating the complexitiesand dualities of human nature whilst

sketching with charcoal.

I t i s the most holy death to swal low onesel f whole.

To r i se and fa l l wi th the darkness and l ight ,to love and fear the terror of belonging to both.

By Micala Royal

OUROBOROS

sevensouldeep


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Bio: My name is Peter Curtis, and Iam an eighteen-year-old Instagramartist from the United States. I joinedInstagram when I was fourteenand gradually gained popularityfrom posting my artwork underthe username @peterdelcurtis.My biggest inspiration from thestart was the talented singer andsongwriter Lana Del Rey. This piece

is based on her music video MusicTo Watch Boys To, using coloredpencils. This is one of many LanaDel Rey pieces that I have added to

my Instagram collection

My name is Peter Curt i s , and I am an eighteen-year-old Instagram ar t i s t f rom the United States .I joined Instagram when I was fourteen andgradual ly gained popular i ty f rom post ing myartwork under the username @pete rdelcurt i s . Mybigg est inspirat ion from the s tar t was the ta lenteds inger and songwri ter Lana Del Rey. This pieceis based on her music video Music To WatchBoys To, us ing colored penci l s . This i s one ofmany Lana Del Rey pieces that I have added to

my Instagram col lect ion.

By Peter Curtis

Music To Watch Bo ys To

peterdelcurtis


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Credit For Ima ges Belongs To:

Unle s s o th e rw i s e s ta t ed th e image s u s ed in th i s magaz in e w e r e r ep o s t ed f r omth e f o l l ow in g s i t e s .

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previews/backgrounds/watercolor-grunge/watercolor-grunge-000009-ul t ramar ine-blue . jpg


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Issue 3 June