By Ahmad Al-khatat Inside museum of corpses there are dead refugees bodies who died ’cause they were not characters, but priceless, experiments That helped humankind, with plastic surgery, they test dangers And feature The weapons Of flesh and blood, crash test dummies, design body armour against the aliens from the spaceship and women, private body … Continue reading Museum of Corpses
The Rainbow Who Saved My Life
By Ahmad Al-Khatat The last rainbow that appeared, recognized me from my eyes he told me that I survived the war and that he saved my life he said that back in my homeland he can’t be seen when he appears, instead he helps the angels to paint by Marking the children with my colours … Continue reading The Rainbow Who Saved My Life
What’s the harm?
By Rajnish Mishra My mobile’s memory stores details, but it’s old. It’s not smart, my mobile, and old. I don’t delete some numbers. They’re dead, I’ve been told. Not the numbers. I thought to call, once at least, at least one of them, then I did not call. What if I … Continue reading What’s the harm?
One Refugee and a Blonde
By Ahmad Al-khatat I am not ashamed to be known as a refugee, from a country that is fully damaged Being awake all the nights it’s the reason why do I feel always homesick Stranger next to me, in front of me, behind the wall of my lonesome room I learnt how to speak, read, … Continue reading One Refugee and a Blonde
Wish You Were Here
By Ahmad Al-khatat Back then, when we were teenagers Fifteen years ago when we thought Nothing would separate our friendship To divide it with a positive sorrow My neighbor is now alcoholic Tears fall when I smell her cigarette She used to be smokey looking Attractive to my olden delusions Inside of me, I’m trying … Continue reading Wish You Were Here
A rose and waste picker
By Sunil Sharma A rose blooms on a dump in Delhi It sways in the morning wind the way drunk girls sway and swear on the predatory Indian streets and restricted cultural zones to express happiness and freedom from stifling familial and patriarchal constraints In Mumbai and other metros on long Saturday nights. The morning light plays on the petals and … Continue reading A rose and waste picker
I Close My Eyes
By Ahmad Al-khatat I close my eyes when I died in your arrival more than twice waiting for the sunshine to taste one hard candy A few bitter sips melting & dripping rare honey my mind takes me to the other side of silence where a lips kiss is a thicker bite on the tongue … Continue reading I Close My Eyes
The Other Side of Namelessness
By Peter Magliocco Neon signs don't color any young brothers on the Strip tonight sweltering nearby electric pods a flesh currency multiplies in seized numbers of identity as hell's jackpot awaits. Always the wandering detritus populating the streets in trashy voluminous splendor tarnished by life's imprint, we sidle across it all to reach the … Continue reading The Other Side of Namelessness
Summer Contest Poetry 3rd Place
Summer’s End; Autumn Prelude Alisdair L R I Hodgson What should be a scent on the breeze is nothing but a bluebottle on the wing; a moment of abstract connection in an otherwise secluded surrounding with that breeze surrounding me, my skin, hairs on end, drawing out the bumps and chasing the dying heat to … Continue reading Summer Contest Poetry 3rd Place
Song of September
By Ken Allan Dronsfield During the foggy nights of late September. As the bugs have faded away, the colorful leaves have once again come out to play. Laughing and gliding down to the ground, some spin like helicopters, round and round. The cat sits watching the tendrils of haze, … Continue reading Song of September
Academy of the Heart And Mind 