But He Don't Hear Me

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…his minds somewhere.

He talks; I hear each word,

Listen; know what I’ve heard.

I hear all that he needs,

He tells me how he bleeds,

But he don’t hear me try,

Don’t know I’m gonna die.

I remember, its absurd,

Every lie and hurtful word,

And though he doesn’t hear me,

He often swears he loves me,

Brings home the daily bread,

And takes me to his bed.

Within I feel the way,

His words cut every day.

Says, I don’t like your friend,

You’re not seeing her again,

Or you’re not working there.

Or! Hey! What’s with your hair?

Girl you’re…

By Roger C Horton​​​​​​​

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The Beginning

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…are gleaming with wonders,

The ways are waiting for a new adventure.

Scramming the haunted memories of past,

And facing the dynamic mystery of future.

Living the life, in such a glory,

That even misery will be afraid of its fury.

The aura of redemption is inextinguishable,

The lust for fame is impeccable.

The fire of vengeance is still on,

But the serenity of mind is not all lost.

Relinquishing the fear, buried inside us,

To embrace the prosperous…

By Arnab Majumdar

Website: https://dtranscendentalist.wordpress.com/

Twitter: arnab8_7

Facebook URL: https://www.facebook.com/arnab.acrylicx

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The Truth About June

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…surgery for what they suspected was a large hematoma but instead turned out to be a massive seroma infection right on top of my femoral bypass graph. I was left with a softball sized gaping hole in my groin. They couldn’t close it up because they had to remove all of my destroyed flesh. Twenty-four hours later I endured an attached muscle flap surgery that the surgeon said was even more painful than open heart surgery. They cut me from my knees to my hip bone, removed my outer thigh muscle—bent it sideways and filled in the hole. My…

By Bonnie Wheeler

Twitter: BonnieWheeler1

Facebook URL: https://www.facebook.com/bonnie.wheeler.58

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A page in the diary of a sinner

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…slowly transitioning into old age, dad has learnt how to use the internet, basically to get acquainted to local news and hotly debated political issues. However, for some days, I had been noticing that he was busy reading some kind of story or blog in English. While I jokingly teased him from time to time for returning back to those old college days, reading English like a child (since most of his life was devoted to speaking French at work), I never took the time to actually listen to what he was reading aloud. Then that fatal day occurred when I figured out that what he was actually reading was an absolutely detailed sexual performance between the characters…

By Anonymous

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Thunder Woman

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…sacrifices with her cancerous-pallors

eating men like air with black sweet blood mouthfuls

there beneath the bloody trap you’ll see

these hoods of bone don’t shine for we.

Lasso the neck for love is gone-

In the house of barn, the calm will come

put down your swords, the battle is won

The jar consumes the chime of the bell…

By Jasmine Dine

Website: https://theunsweetenedalmond.blogspot.com/

Facebook URL: https://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100015168728628

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On Segregation and Saushilyam

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…who till the land must not elevate their eyes to the skies. Shambhuka is an untouchable. Rama is casteist.

*                      

School had a great hall of sorts, where people gathered for various things. It was a long, wide, rectangular building made entirely out of hollow-blocks, crowned with a wooden frame on top like an inverted keel of the ship covered with red-oxide roof tiles. The windows were a leafy green and the walls, a slowly-fading-into-dusty-yellow white. Red for passion, white for peace and green for prosperity. The colours of human values. 

We gathered in there for every morning for prayer…

By Sindhuja Veeraraghavan

Facebook URL: https://www.facebook.com/sindhuja.veeraraghavan.9

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Our Saviour

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Memories form the fabric of our identities: we encode, we store and we retrieve. Children's memories are often formed from play, games and fun finding. In an infant, memory is like sand used in a play pit. When shaken through a toy sieve most of the sand works its way through the grid and disperses. As adults to the grid is covered with a fine gauze mesh, most of the memories remain as they can't work through the holes. As toddlers, we make recollections from a smell, from sight, from touch, from what we hear, from indifference or…

By Alison Little

Website: http://alisonlittleblog.wordpress.com

Twitter: Alison05

Facebook URL: https://www.facebook.com/alison.little1

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Bobby Dope & The D-Zuu-Wabba

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So I came to this bar it was dark and loud
When I entered the door I was hit by a cloud
It was D-Zuu-Wabba I knew it right away
Sickest dope on the planet straight out of Bombay

A rare dude came to me said he's name was Bobby Dope
White Russian in his hand, long hair and wearing robe
Had he's peak early 80s, nowadays in decay
Then he offered me the Wabba. Holy smoke it made my day

Now the D-Zuu-Wabba maybe not be known to you
It's an Indian blend from a root named D-Zuu
First they chopped it up, then they…

By Zycuna Cress

Website: http://zycuna.com

Twitter: zycuna

Facebook URL: https://www.facebook.com/zycuna/

https://youtu.be/G1cV7GKCeeQ

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Dead Sex

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The tip of my knife keeps jabbing the life from the corpse on this night
On the tightrope, I slide to the side where the body I’ll hide
Hanging in plain sight invisible to the untrained eye
“Die, die, die!” I scream and I cry unable to control the words that go through my mind
And the red of the dead blood resting in bed with the body overhead hanging instead of buried where its meant to be
The hurry scared me and impulse scurried
The flurries of snow out the window crawl and build up blocking the light, FUCK! I can’t see shit
I must’ve fallen asleep. Is he still dead? Where would he be?
He’s gone, the rope hangs alone and there’s no clue
I don’t know where a dead man who came back to life would go
Do you?

By Amber Black

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