Bucking the Trend(ing)

I love my BFF ❤


I should write about women, what with this being the International Day for Women, but apart from naming a few significant women in my life – some of whom will not see this unless I decide they can – I’m not sure I have anything pertinent to say. I could wax lyrical about the women I love, or strangers that I admire or whatever… but I’m not in the mood to write about that. Maybe that makes me sound like a twat!

Here’s the thing. I can call myself a twat if I fucking want, because I’m a woman, hear me roar. I can roar or whisper or scream or just speak normally or in a monotone voice that puts people to sleep.

But…all that aside…


I want to tell you a really shit story.

Yesterday at work, an elderly man customer that I’ve known for a reasonably long…

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Mark Ryan, gaaahhh!

Havoc and Consequence

Bullets peel away my flesh, as the city sleeps.
It crumbles into the night.
Slinking into tomorrow link a panther into the jungle.
You don’t run my town.
You won’t own my crown.
The drums of war sound and the concrete cracks.
Awakening once more to a new day of havoc.
Racing rats and such noise in my skull.
Retreat. Re-tweet.
The fingers tap itching by the triggers.
Awash with opinions, thrown like rocks.
Flowers grow where old giants fell.
Mighty names and egos that towered into the sky.
You throw such money around.
Yet you walk sideways.
Poised with perfection, like a clown who has mastered tears.
Retreat. I retreat into the place where I was born.
To a land where the trees breathe my name.
I hear the bullets fly in the distance, yet they cannot reach me here.
They do not know this place.
Or that it’s…

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The Heart of Winter- Christine Ray

Oh, my heart. Christine on SD today. ❤

A Global Divergent Literary Collective

My heart

a block of sculptured ice

buried deep behind

steel ribs

hung with icicles

offering dagger sharp protection

An arctic palace

of empty chambers

where glacial winds

flash freeze unwanted feelings

blow them deep into dungeons

blood is crystallized

in frozen nitrogen veins

heartbeat slowed

like a wound down pocket watch

My dreams haunted nightly

by my dead

again and again

they appear

bright cheeked



or perhaps unconcerned

by their fates

They murmur

that I am the ghost here

rendered translucent



from years of suppressed grief

They whisper in my ear

to remove the splinter

from my eye

that blinds me

to myself

these truths

it is time

they say

to examine the shape

the sharpness

of my grief

that spring thaw

is long, long overdue

Christine Ray  writes for   Brave and Reckless  and is a writer and managing editor for Sudden Denouement, Whisper…

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You Cannot Have Me As You Like (revamp)


I know,

I know,

I’m such a drag—

sucks you

cannot have me as you like.


Menthol ciggie makes my mouth pertty

dirty, but the

whiskey makes my tongue taste like

Sunday morning


Are you really so disgusted, or just

pissed I make you



So I’m not Lady-like.

I’m Woman-like. And

you’re a fucking drag,



Such a fucking drag—

sucks you

cannot have me.


© Kindra M. Austin

(image: Pinterest)



Una Zingara


I woke to a dream
where cicadas hummed louder
than my mind could speak.
Where the earth cried out
each sin from within its depths,
a spring from past delusion
flowed out of bedrock
as blood through my viens.

I remained there, asleep
with eyes wide open
to never see the sun,
in search for darkest light.
Upon a bed of soil and mulch,
where roots lined my bed
just as the bones of my ribs
encase the truth within its cage.

Sabrina Escorcio

Photo credit unknown, please advise.

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Lou Rasmus ❤

lou rasmus

It’s all sweat in the morning.
It’s coffee,
and burnt toast,
and then the same worries
that I always have.
It has something to do
with the start of a new day,
I think,
because each day seems like
it could be my last day.
Each day feels like it could be
the day that I crash my car
on the way to work,
or choke on a bite of food,
or find out that it’s actually cancer
that has been fucking
with my mood.
It’s always just a bunch of
irrational fears
that appear real
until the night comes.
And then I feel fine.
Then I know that I’ve made it
through another day,
and all I have to do is
and smoke
and fuck
until I fall asleep,
and I
sort of
stop sweating.

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