back to » news

poetry issues #13

(2 votes)
Monday, 29 May 2017

The June-July issue is out today. Read it here:




It has nothing to do

with the moon being full

or the caprices of the weather.

It might as well be hormonal

or a byproduct of her society.


Whatever the source

when the lunatic takes over

cheerful like a glistening silverness

and long waited for

there are no further mentions

let alone questions about the

passage of years – all on purpose.

Stuck in old-fashioned modernism

assembling the cubist fragments of time

she’s building her masterwork.


In a wink

She snaps

In a wink she can’t breathe

In a wink

She falls from the cliff.






City pigeons and town crows

gathered round me

to decide upon my fate.


Remembering I had fed them once

they spared me and gave me

a crumble of happiness


to teach me the taste of bread

and then leave me wander

on an empty stomach.






Don’t shut the curtains.

Tonight, I’m going after

the orbitless stars.



Going in Circles


You can’t teach an old

soul new tricks. It’ll fall again

for the same cheap thrills.






Is there a contract without terms and conditions?

We negotiate hard despite our human condition.


I bought a house on the mountain but couldn’t

reach it due to harsh weather conditions.


With just a few scratches that mellow the sound

I’m now selling a rare life in mint condition.


You said you would love me forever but failed

to mention the many irrevocable conditions.


Civilization will be haunted by the stupidity

it generates, manipulates and conditions.


They baptised me Maria, but this is something

I usually hide under stressful conditions.




Dope, Man


Oh, but there are omens

in a crinkled paper’s wriggling form

in a ceremonial summer pyre,

or in an ugly bird’s croak

as it locks one eye on you.


Will you ever be wise enough

to make out of chaos meaning?


Like a sworn soldier you

follow the trail of smoke

lapping up with twisted fire

causality’s plank walls. Since

all perception can be deceiving

you skin your dead sheep

of a consciousness and trade it

for cosmic suits and astral boots.


Minds are meant to be broken

as paths yearn to be trodden.




[You will learn more about the Poetry Issues project here.]


share this item
facebook googleplus linkedin rss twitter youtube
item hits
Read 692 times
Last modified on
Saturday, 03 February 2018 23:15
nosubhealth online pharmacybuy xanax online no prescriptionbuy phentermine online