Hello everyone, hope you’ve been well. Here’s another update of recent publications.
Various drabbles appear in the Legend of the Night series by Black Ink Fiction. 1 and 2
Two poems in Coven Poetry Issue 2
Three poems in the Fevers of the Mind poetry blog
A poem in the Pink Plastic House Haunted Dollhouse
Two poems in Sage Cigarettes Issue 7
And last but not least my story Good Coffee published in Stellium Magazine has been nominated for a Best of the Net award!
This is my first nomination for anything. Happy to share this with everyone and thank you for supporting the blog and it’s contributions.
More is on the way. Continue doing well in these trying times, and once again
When you’re around I don’t feel so down
I know that isn’t deep
Surface level, I am the same
Why worry of the deep?
There’s nothing there for us
When we wade it feels like time is kind
Time is a lifeguard
Making sure we don’t drown
In a dangerous place
A first date
Vendor gives a cone for free
You offered to pay
I said that was dumb
Mistake number one
This day was a dream
A small one
It was innocent
All so free
I now know
What a long time ago means
Worse than night
At day you think you’re safe
At night you know you’re not
Day creeps up on you
And screams in your face
Just to let you know
A zebra gallops wild and free, somewhere far away from me.
Somewhere near, a horse dreams lyrically
This dream mirrors reality, though different indeed.
When the zebra sleeps it dreams the horse’s dream.
Knowing the dream is not only that, the zebra sleeps in peace.
However, the horse cries an awful neigh, tossing, turning.
These two will never meet.
These two can never meet.
If so, it would only be in dream.
One would have to wake
With wanting neighs of drifting hay
On this day one seems to gallop
All the wanting thoughts
A barefoot book, open and clean with a beautiful spine
Her pages were soft and sweet.
He read her story, inside and out, front ways and back.
Yet still she threw him out.
His eyes felt too much, his fingers tasted too often.
He did not know these acts to be intrusion, unwanted attention
That some books wish not to be read
I hear a noise
Be it person or beast?
I do not know
I listen and wait
In waiting I am still, I am afraid.
It’s quiet now
Time is unmoved
This quietness: a personal tomb.
You do inspire me so
Eyes are filled with lust
Pen moves in hand
Like a crazed man’s dance,
Brain all toffee and mush.
The child was not to blame
For the splitting couple
Though the child felt at fault
The child grew in separate homes
Influenced by both parents
Carving a path
Finding a place
In this quaking world
You’re the shadow
Of a much more interesting person
It’s unfortunate how you’ve regressed
Oh person, if that’s what you are
Won’t you leave me be?
I’ve seen so many places
Those places don’t involve you
Therefore, they are better for me
Oh person, don’t you see?
You’re unneeded now
I’m where I want to be.
I plug in, am now in reality, a quite different one, yet still the same.
People are here, also plugged in, their minds elsewhere in a digital world.
Bodies are here, souls sucked optically.
Zombies talk and feel, they don’t know reality.
Humans plugged in, unattached from machines.
So, I say, am I the same?
I am, I say, I am the same.