“The State of the World” by Kalandra was released just yesterday, and I’m kind of obsessed with it. It’s a plea to the planet. A hunt for peace. The music video’s lovely, the singing’s on point, the piano and strings work together harmoniously… I personally struggle to describe the sound of music in words, butContinue reading “My New Favorite Song”
Category Archives: poetry
Red
red, bred, red for the breading the breeding and sneezing sit home sick with our sluggish lungs tryna breathe–we concern ourselves here with aftermaths. The revolution revolves the rulers lose the rebels rule new rebels choose a wiser head than the rulers’ abuse unless it’s a ruse then the bread
Nuclear Core/Saga of Insomnia
The saga of insomnia ends on a cliffhanger. The armageddon comes but leaves something alive in the aftermath, in the dirt, in the river canyon worn away by centuries, yes, we’re still going somewhere post-anything, still spinning and expanding with the universe. Everything the light touches makes you bigger, you know, like your shadow slowContinue reading “Nuclear Core/Saga of Insomnia”
Hello, Village of My Heart
gonna make you wait and make you pay, takin’ names killin’ fame– oh this typical teenage rebellion just comes sweepin’ in on coatclaws of trepid traumatization and I don’t want this job anymore so please protect them, and there, and these, and here and keep our village safe so the rebels do not actually haveContinue reading “Hello, Village of My Heart”
Made by the Teeth of Lions
In this liar’s bed we don’t speak of lion dens we just speak of marble men– statues done by chipped chisels helD in haNds with imAgined plans then tested by the predators, we are built out of tribulation unchosen and chance– surely you see this presence of mine is just stone surely you see myContinue reading “Made by the Teeth of Lions”
Seen a Town, Squeaky Suitcase
That squeaky suitcase has seen a town or two, a weary, well-worn traveler accustomed to the roads and rows of all customs; this stuttery suitcase has strolled through a town or ten,
Billiards with Books
The rules are, you slide books across the tile, and knock ’em out the doors to score points on classics, but you lose if you hit out the baby books–why the baby books, who knows
Loose Threads
don’t think leave the party don’t think hit the car seat pass out falling off me don’t think scarlet oversheet don’t think don’t think shrink shrink shrink ready blink mouth to sink don’t think don’t think if you wanna talk about it eat up my shame first lose a game to me first don’t thinkContinue reading “Loose Threads”
The Outlet is Crying
My window collects condensation where warm humidity meets winter’s display, but today the outlet on the wall also had droplets, around the socket– those eyes looked sad about something, so I started guessing: the seasonal blues an ache of some kind a premonition of a power-losing storm; or maybe it cried about how I couldn’tContinue reading “The Outlet is Crying”
Retribution Comes
There’s a storm in the fire, here, or is it just a cloud that cannot quench the desert’s thirst?
Jordyn Saelor 