Submissions for the Spring issue are now officially CLOSED! Thank you so much to everyone who submitted! Our team is in the works of putting together the magazine, as well as planning surprise projects to share with you all! Have you picked up the Winter issue yet? The Spring issue will be hitting the stands in a few weeks! It’s starting to feel more and more like summer… Here’s some poetry for your weekend.
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Untitled
by Rachel Woods
She writes down the story of her life,
On a piece of paper.
Like lyrics of a song,
She composes the words.
To let out her emotions,
Feelings that she holds so much in.
Without the words she puts down,
She often gets stressed.
She feels miserable,
Not writing for so long.
Now she picks up the pen,
And begins to writes again.
To heal herself,
Through writing.
No longer will I lose,
To the demons that I have inside.
I will fight back,
Step up to live on.
No longer will I live,
In the past.
My focus will be,
Mainly the future of my life.
For the key of the future,
Lies inside of me.
For I will survive this,
Like many battles before.
Through meditation,
Writing.
I will get through this trial,
And be stronger I am now.
And be one true,
Survivor.
Behind each tear is a person,
That isn’t giving up hope.
That one day there will be peace,
No longer war.
For war separates,
Divides us in half.
Tears us apart,
Shreds us like pieces of paper.
For we may not be born in this world,
To hate.
But to show love,
Compassionate feelings toward each other.
For the path of peace,
Has not lead us to the dark.
But to be children,
Of the light.
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GRU and BLAY:
by N.A.
There once were two fellows
named Gru and Blay
one astute, the other gay
one loved school, the other play
and though they differed
in their usual ways
they became unlikely friends
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THE UNDERBELLY
by Simone Toimil
soft, exposed, flesh, ripped open,
bleeding, dripping like tears
streaming down cheeks from not one but
all emotions,
feelings, experiences.
neurons firing
that first shock of being born
into this world,
when we never asked to be.
rooted in mortality
and the question of what.it.means.to.be.
to love
to live
to die
to sing
to weep
the misunderstood gift
the shadow that creates light.
the Truth.
the creature that soars,
and flaps, and claws
through the dark skies of dreams
into our most unreachable
un-seeable places
unleashing its contents
its secrets
across our unprepared souls.
look up, and you will see him,
screeching through the stars,
raining down hot drops of blood
onto your curious, outstretched, tongue.
fresh, from his breached underbelly.
