February 7, 2016

Fries to Go by Russ Mills

It became a part of me, somehow. I felt it
Moving inside me, the way an unborn child moves
Inside its mother, in a way only a woman can feel.
It flutters. It leaps. It kicks. It churns. It grows.
I feel its tentacles growing longer, stronger. Remember
Its violet translucent blood flowing up my legs, the way
Blood dried velvety, and then turned into fine black
Powder blown away on winds? We both breathed
It in, this little tiny and dainty pink thing now swimming
Inside of me to swallow my heart—why wound it?
We don’t even know what it is and now we’ll
Never ever know. No one will find a way to study
The creature. It wasn’t its fault that it washed up
Along the shore. Why do you want to hurt it? What’s
The use in destroying what we can’t understand?
When it first happened, I couldn’t believe what you did.
I wanted to take pictures. You destroyed my camera.
I wanted to set the creature free, back to the waters.
You slapped it out of my hands, crushing the creature.
I wanted the creature. Because it was dying, again, I
Helped it become a part of me, a woman moving inside,
Inside a woman, in a way only a woman can feel
Flutters, leaps, kicks, churns. Now, it grows tentacles
longer, stronger. I carry its violet translucence
Like my heartbeat as blood dries velvety, turning
Into fine black powder blowing away on the winds.
I ate it as it shivered. You tried to confiscate it. I won.
Now, I carry it behind the rocks and into the shadows
As it shudders in my naked arms. You’re a man unable
To kill me when it crawls out of my mouth, as if to die
In my arms. You clobber it. Crush it. Smash it. Stomp it.
Hurt it. Torture it. After you try to kill it again, I hide it
The best way I know how, the one place you’ll never think
To look. You’re still so angry, afraid that I’ll put it inside
Of you. Why not? Why don’t I do to you what you did
To me when I was so afraid, so close to the water?

Aimee Parkison

(More about Aimee Parkison HERE)

Blue eyes

February 7, 2016


When I was twelve or so
I bought some make-up with
Stolen money

Smudges of blue would
Bring out the colour of my eyes
Boys would notice

Grandad lifted his head and stared
And stared
Told me I looked ‘like a whore’

I blame the war

Tina Bass

(Tina Bass has been submitting poetry and short stories for publication since 2004. She’s published Fat Man Dancing from Poetry Monthly Press and Mechanical Expressions from Writers Forum. Mouthings (a book of conversations) was published in 2008 by Intercapillary Editions. During daylight hours she works as a Senior Lecturer in Business at Coventry University)

a diamond-hulled starship…

February 7, 2016

Sparth_Nicolas Bouvier

There was something heartbreakingly beautiful about the lights of distant ships, I thought. It was something that touched both on human achievement and the vastness against which those achievements seemed so frail. It was the same thing whether the lights belonged to a caravel battling the swell on a stormy horizon or a diamond-hulled starship which had just sliced its way through interstellar space.

Alastair Reynolds
Chasm City

On Loneliness

February 7, 2016

angela fraleigh

If you’ve ever wondered what loneliness is,
it is 2 am

it’s listening to my heart beat
& wondering if it will ever be loud enough to swallow the sound of him leaving

it’s pondering the difference between sinking and drowning
& realising that I am doing both:
my lungs are overflowing
yet still I’m gorging myself

it’s being too tired to write about loss

If you’ve ever wondered,
being lonely is like taking a shot of salt water

it’s eating sunflower seeds
just to stay warm

it’s imitating his touch with my hands

it’s the way red lipstick fades
when no one bothers to kiss it off

Leonor Morrow

(Leonor Morrow’s poems have been published in several chapbooks, including the Live Poets Society Spring 2015 anthology. Her blog may be found HERE).

Excite myself…

February 7, 2016


swooped down on her

February 7, 2016


Two disembodied large, evil eyes, swooped down on her, then receded, then swooped again and receded…

Elizabeth Sinclair
Gardens of the Moon

wandered endlessly

February 7, 2016


For hours, for days, for years, she had wandered endlessly within herself but never met anybody, nobody.

Angela Carter
The Passion of New Eve

Sunday secrets…

February 7, 2016


Hell raising Sunday

February 7, 2016

Burning Of Carrion's Palace Clive Barker

Burning Of Carrion’s Palace
Clive Barker

The gang's all here... Four Friendly Cenobites to see you

The gang’s all here…
Four Friendly Cenobites to see you

This isn't going to end well... Hellraiser - Revelations

This isn’t going to end well…
Hellraiser – Revelations

Hellraiser - Hell On Earth

Hellraiser – Hell On Earth

"You're so wet..." Hellraiser II

“You’re so wet…”
Hellraiser II

"You will like it, honest" Hellraiser

“You will like it, honest”

Make your own Chatterer Cenobite

Make your own Chatterer Cenobite