Revolution-Introducing Kristen Wood


[Poem and picture by Kristen Wood]

You say you want a revolution.
Resolution.
Change the world,
but look good doing it.
Nobody likes an ugly rebel.
Protest, but peacefully.
Provoke, but prettily.
Warring with the world
and that last ten pounds.
Troublemaking radicals,
extreme in their tactics,
but not in their lipstick shades.
That would be too unconventional.
Liberals must look conservative
to be subversive.
Resolving to riot and reform,
but reasonably and respectfully.
Repentant revolutionaries.

[Kristen Wood is a mother of five, a writer, a reader, a student, and an aspiring librarian. She has had her work published on Mothers Always Write, and is an ongoing contributor to the online magazine, Still Standing. She is also a proud pop culture geek and a champion napper. She loves to make people laugh and make people think, and if she can do both at the same time, even better.]

Still Life in the Oral Surgeon’s Chair -Introducing Robin Wright

Still Life in the Oral Surgeon's Chair
[Poem by Robin Wright]

After my fear of teeth being twisted,
cut, pulled like plugs for barbaric
bloodletting, after the mask covers
my nose and the nitrous has reduced
my hands and feet to far-off
sensations, thoughts fly from my body
and laugh from above.

But I endure, rise, retreat
from the chair, no longer still,
no longer the surgeon’s
mouthy masterpiece.

Robin Wright’s work has appeared in or is forthcoming in Indiana Voice Journal, Eunoia Review, Peacock Journal, Unbroken Journal, (b)OINK zine, Lost River Literary Magazine, Rat’s Ass Review, and others. Two of her poems were published in the University of Southern Indiana’s 50th anniversary anthology, Time Present, Time Past. She has also co-written two novels with Maryanne Burkhard under the name B. W. Wrighthard, Ghost Orchid and A Needle and a Haystack.

Attractive Miles by Nadia Garofalo

Landslide
[Poem by Nadia Garofalo Photo by Women Beyond Boundaries]
I remember
when the desert called me
oasis of lost boys and love hotels
sometimes still
dry heat
warms cold blood
tempts me
can it quell uncertainty
with its attractive miles
heavy silence
lets let it go
we’ll soon see
if she calls now to you
or still, sings for me.

Bruised Knees-Introducing Rachel Finch

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[Poem by Rachel Finch]
My knees have known Bruises.
A spectrum of colour staining my skin as a reminder.
Pigments of who I am, altered at their hands.
Fists clenched to strike, clench, imprint.
Each stain a bolt, a language seeping into my essence; teaching.
My ribs have known bruises.
Painted, I am every female ancestor face first in the dirt.
My throat has known bruises.
I never felt so transparent as I did wearing lesions beneath a high collar.
Fading, my shell returns, burying the real wounds beneath it.
But I am wiser.
Healed I am every female ancestor face towards the Sun.

Rachel is a writer that speaks from her soul, expressing her trauma and strength through her work. She lives with Mental Illness, refusing to let it define her and is mother to four courageous children. In her free time she volunteers to support people through their own experiences of abuse, mental illness and recovery at Bruised But Not Broken.

Crystal Residue by Nadia Garofalo

nadia
[Poem and photo by our own Nadia Garofalo]
I open heavy
to an empty house
but at least it’s mine
The warmth isn’t gone
it’s spread out over continents
washes and brings in
its tide apparitions
nostalgia so vivid and thick
like ocean air
sharp corners
wear smooth
Pools evaporate to
crystal residue

The Suck by S.M. Wilson

SWAMP-3

“Out there” we stand
a Venn diagram
of the pulsating dispossessed

swimming in admixture
thirsting for elixir

choking on psychotropics
to disinhibit
our wayward transmitters

to buy into what we’re about
is to find oneself wholly unhoused

but glue back the pieces
and construct your own thesis
it’s your best shot to see us
even if its only mimesis

seeking solace?
you’re out of luck
we traffic in chaos
we embrace The Suck

S.M. Wilson

The Good Wife-Introducing dmo Nietzsche

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In the game of love
She was the queen
Not a Pawn to the king
Her thoughts were supreme
But once caught by the ring
She was stuck in her dream
But it’s not what it seems
2 sides aren’t symmetrical
If they’re not identical
When you watch the second go
They FEEL so forgettable
Emotions are reactions
Their not all chemical
Unless it’s medical
Confined by her fear of change
The walls they speak and call her name
Tell her that it’s all okay
Hold it in don’t complain

The good wife knew when to cry
When to shade her shiny eyes
The spark been fade
but the times not right
Even if it’s all a lie
You told her that it’s all alright
she believed you
Believed it Like it was the truth
Before the “death could Do us part ”
You took the fire in her souls
Made a liar of her heart
Fire turned to embers
Now your sitting in the dark
But tears turned to rain
As they evaporate
You couldn’t ascertain
Why they disappear
Just to come back again
She comes back repeatedly
So fiendishly she’s bowing to her deity
Strategically she needs it to end peacefully
But all the time together couldn’t
separate them evenly
sincerity slowly turns to hostility
Instantly her palace an instrument in her captivity
Now under siege his words artillery
Her cries and pleads of stop your killing me
Now just please god finish me
Shed rather die than live submissively
If she dies she still submits you see

[I write words,sometimes they rhyme. Lynn, Ma. poet in search of peace of mind. -dmo]