Fiction:
by Michael G. Mclaughlin
by Devil
Nonfiction:
by Justin Schwan
Poetry:
by T K Brown
I remember days
When my mind wasn't always in a fog
When a step to another new idea
Wasn't a foot sloughing its way thru a bog?
I think I remember
There were times of rare clarity
When a sky full of floating clouds
Was just another admission of rare reality?
I think it remembers me, sometimes
The way I used to exist inside of it
Who would know that such a stage was infancy?
And the bliss to which we gladly would now submit
Who had woes that one mind could comprehend
Would now be seen in blithe hindsight
Compared to the echoing halls of eternity
Could be held close to a bosom of the finite
I can imagine how the past must feel
If it were to be embodied and mobile
Winsome, melancholy rolling reminiscent
Looking back on escapades with a grin and no bile
And if I should cross paths with the past
While out strolling along
I'll just have to give a nod to a familiar
Who knew me once where I used to belong?
©Copyrighted 2006 Timothy Brown
"Take Me"
by Ricardo Chavez
Take me to the place where sweet dreams grow
And take me to where time passes eternally slow
Can you take me to the land of legend and lore
Can you take me to where angel wings gracefully soar
Take me to where heroes are still strong and bold
But take me where your heart I can always hold
Take me where Muses sing and dance in the flowers
And take me where I'll never be in my darkest hour
Can you take me where inspiration and wonder run swift
Please take me where beauty and bliss are gifts
Take me to where the lovely sirens sing
And where the butterflies gather in a peaceful ring
Take me to where our minds will meditate
And of where beautiful things they will contemplate
Take me to the land of perpetual peace
Where peace faith and hope will never cease
Take me where everything and its nature is sweet
And take me where our destinies will meet
Take me to where not even Heaven can compare
Because only your glorious soul can take me there
by Bharat Shekhar
Axis slightly askew,
the morning earth turns,
spins itself forward
to let the sun peep,
and then climb into
the houses and hopes
of those with houses and hopes.
A dim light beckons celestial rays.
They glimpse the early worm
as the bird begins its dive
axis slightly askew.
In a ritual almost universal,
dreams check their flight.
Resigned to awakening,
sleeping forms stir,
some to arousal,
others to break lonely wind
that no familiar nose will smell
but their own,
axis slightly askew.
Something shines.Tinged with crimson,
it recalls the colours of the day, slowly.
lowly thoughts rediscover their sounds in words.
Men reinvent their substance from shadows
axis slightly askew.
The atheist wraps his uneasy belief,
in the certitude of lack,
the believer his lack of certitude,
in the certainity of his belief.
Poles that had collapsed, huddled
in the secret uncertainty of the night,
now spring apart-scornful, bristling,
axis slightly askew.
by Natalie Cheek
Millions of shadows
sway from side to side
in a thick fog of fumes,
terrified with each toxic inhale.
The neon glow
illuminates the dark room as
sweaty bodies are bound
to one another in ecstasy.
Repetitive rhythms
pierce each heart.
All that matters is the bass
beating deep in
every breathing body
from spinning disks
giving silent tunes life.
Fear, worry, and pain
are washed away
with every high.
No one knows
when the night will end
if at all, while
each note moves
you one step toward
the coming dawn.
by Igor Nenadic
Come into my room and see my toys!
I showed you the box, you pick it up
And open: The shadows, the ghosts, the beasts, the past,
The grief, the wistfulness, the regret, the hope, the wish, the fall,
the long lost love, the tears, the death, the dreams, the rains...
Rains-you said thoughtfully and opened a palm...
What shall we play with-I asked...
*This poem is in memory of Igor who took his life a short time after submitting the work to us. His work lives on.
Art:
by Nyssa Wells
by Peter Onuigbo
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