archive - issue 14

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  • Title
  • Date
  • Random
  • /

    By Ruth Barker
    On the QWERTY layout of my computer keyboard, the symbol / appears beside the questioning symbol ?. They are represented together on the same key, and
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  • Apartment / Containers

    By Vincent Bezuidenhout
    These diptychs are the start of a series of images I have been working on regarding the visual landscape we choose to surround ourselves
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  • I returned home after my first year in college to discover my younger sister had turned gorgeous. This was a disappointment, but not an
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  • Butterfly

    By Adriana de Barros
    The pupa, a silk wrap of emotionsIsolated, within breathing, wanting to bethe intense pronoun of selfIt is silly to be one's own pronounShe giggles
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  • Collage

    By Claudio Parentela
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  • Drag and Snap

    By Leigh-Anne Niehaus
    This series is inspired by the childhood game of "snapdragon", which allows for simplistic and delightful decision-making through random selections of colour and number.
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  • Evidence of Life

    By Tamlyn Martin
    Below is an extract from a series of 11 poems created in parallel with visual artworks. 5. Memories laced with visceral realityFlooding herThe gentle
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  • Forward! Slash!

    By Travis Lyle
    You think you're a forward-thinking kinda person, do you? Lemme be the one to break it to you, sunshine – you're as lame as the
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  • Human/Nature

    By Lydia Anne McCarthy
    This series explores moments between nature and human beings that are at once idealistic and unsettling. Each picture is an independent narrative, but placed
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  • Immigrants

    By Stanley Onjezani Kenani
    you want to livenothing else.you leaveto liveyou swimor like fresh sardinesyou are packedin boatsyou leaveto live.  you leavegold in the belly of Africaoil in
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  • In Between

    By Tania van Schalkwyk
    Raised in an Arabian land of heat, fire and temper,sometimes the calm of England clamps downlike damp in a bathroom with no windowand a
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  • Letter to the Editor

    By Elan Gamaker
    Dear Sir/Madam I should like strenuously to object to the subject matter ("/") of your current issue. It must first be mentioned, however, that it
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  • Or: a line drawing

    By Gabeba Baderoon
    Pencil and nothing. Her face turned almost entirely away. Forehead, cheekbone,jaw,the bun low in her neck,shoulderand down,the long linejust enoughthen left alone.
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  • p u n c t u a t i o n

    By Ula Einstein
    Einstein works with a diverse range of media, including drawings and installation with fire, thread, and blades. The series of drawings and installations with
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  • PATCH

    By Sean Hampton-Cole
    Keys. John speaking. 'Lo?Good morning. May I speak to Bob Mitchell please?Bob in Bonds?I'm not really sure. I'm trying to...You want extension 125. This
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  • Pretty Babies

    By Peregrine Honig
    With the premise that "/ " presents what is IN and what is OUT, the "Pretty Babies" series explores the fashion industry's well-published and syndicated DOs
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  • River Bank

    By Mario Sughi
    The symbol / is intended initially as a symbol of division. A real or unreal line divides the girl from the water, the girl from
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  • Scissor

    By Charlotte Gait
    There was a time when you and I were connected by iron, acid, vitamin and blood. Where every mouthful I took was with the
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  • Seasaw

    By Sol Kjøk
    Here, the motif is conceived of as a seesaw (the typo in the title is intended, as this drawing is part of a series
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  • Series Seven Up

    By Noel Fignier
    Text by João Branco Kyron, HipnóticaThe collision is imminent and in the fraction of time left, the eyes shut and the vision is superbly
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  • A battle over samoosas between the snobbish Cinderella and a homeless electrician is mediated by Cinderella's boyfriend JJ. The samoosa battle is conflated with
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  • Wayne Porter, freelance journalist, donned his anthropologist's birthday suit and hit the bowling alley. Bar the bowlers hat tipped gently off centre, the man
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  • The Incised Wound

    By Joanne Hichens
    "Please, for me, Dave," I placed my hand on his, and really, no begging, just asked him nicely, "Lay off the booze tonight." Whether
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  • He had been driving for hours through that unstable, somnambulist night when he fell asleep at the wheel. He awoke with a start and
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  • The space between.

    By Mehita Iqani
    It's a handy little line, the one that we use to make our options known. Either/Or. Paper and ink or binary code? Its clichéd,
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  • Un Hombre Fuerte

    By Tamo Vonarim
    Sun.star.kid: Written these words are, at times of a subconscious flow – whether they are mine, I don't know. All I know is that I
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  • Unbroken Awareness

    By TENDAI MWANAKA
    My life is now a floating shellI am a vessel on that river.The storm, the ship, the sea,Whose shores we lost in crossing.  I
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  • Untitled

    By Wilhelm Saayman
    This series of images, made using pen and ink, photographs and Photoshop, explore alternate/dream realities.
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  • Untitled

    By Aryan Kaganof
    /At R550 rand I thought I'd rather die/ My mother: can I trust this woman?/ I thought the Romans were coming, dinkum/ …and always
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POETRY

Saturday, 03 September 2011 02:00

I Wish You Were Here Daddy

By
I was bornInto the wild ofThis country A wildernessOf steel wasteland-Sky and street Shadow meLike the white sun Yellow moon StarHiroshimaPeople ThumbprintsTrapped on pages ofOverdue library Books Warring nervesIncidents That cannotBe accounted forThe world is StillEven whenComing HomeFrom the seaSand like DiamondsIn my shoesMy hair There'sAlready a setRhythm A resurrectionOf a child to a womanDrowning woman BloodlinesVisible from theNeck down In peacock-blueCircles that slip beneathThe surface like Threads noOne could see-There was Another inThe house so asCat wrestles With birdA mess of feathersEverywhere As red dotsOf blood appearI feel light like I couldDisappear Into thin Air with theMercy of flightBecause…
Saturday, 03 September 2011 02:00

Out of the Tension of Opposites

By
An angel's wings had torn.He looked about and saw two menverbally duelling - one fought for love, grief, poetry- all the heart's truths - against the other's hard core questions gruelling:what were those values worth? The angel heardthe wrestles of their thoughts, and from their weftand warp new wingswere born.
Saturday, 03 September 2011 02:00

Day of Reconciliation

By
Thingahangwi, Brandi and Hannes. From early morning on they have been digging, ripping the surface of the earth. This year it is going to be a long, deep hole. The work of Thingahangwi, Brandi and Hannes progresses steadily, scoop by scoop. Earth-clots keep smacking on the growing heap as their shirts become sweatier and heavier. The three of them would not pause until the hole is deep enough. Deep enough to absorb all this year's horror. From early morning on people from all over the country keep coming. Obviously, it again is a massive crowd, an endless queue. Anyone who…
Saturday, 03 September 2011 02:00

The Life of Love

By
I brush your lips now          how we once kissed!I do not want love   to become a memory       but you are becoming               a memory lips without lust     salt without sweat     sugarless sweetI do not wish to again tastethe bitter rot      of love's dyingso your leaving fills me with sadness             you are dear to meso pleasedo not do not dropyour head do not             allow the stale stupidlousy stuffto sinkyour head do not    do not let rot                          because . . .what!     you do not   know why its not worth      letting rotbefore its time to let rot?            * There is no…
Saturday, 03 September 2011 02:00

The Infinite Possibility of You

By
Conjured up in my moonlit dreamscapesA life-pausing glance sideways At me, out of a face so foreign, so familiarImbued in blood-red robesScattering my essence into Congealed memories of a thousand lives How time fools usInto amnesiac wonder at the newness of it allThis cosmic waltz my lovePerfected over eons of sequencesFleshed out in multi-hued incandescence A newborn wail gloriously erasing consciousness Pounded into the dark spaces between atomsFlung into the wall of all my beforesNewness creeps into my awarenessCoating my yesterdays with gritty promises of tomorrowThe now being too heavy with the flood of a thousand livesBlinked into realityUnblinked into…
Saturday, 03 September 2011 02:00

Infinite: Intertwining Love and Justice.

By
bell hooks wrote that 'without love there can be no justice' and on the unbounded internet she is quoted as, also, having said that 'without justice there can be no love'. The two unceasingly circle each other. I'd like to be justice. Because you are already love: a constant and true ocean always advancing. Justice is trickier, it weighs me a little. I must be fair and trustworthy, sensible and, like you, I must be as constant. Life is the relentless attempt to knit a world in the light of the two.
Saturday, 03 September 2011 02:00

To Lose a Child

By
A child dreams in darknessPleasures multiplied frighten forever nowDespair descends to dwarfism, dereliction Isolation stands tall in shallow water Communicating via tin-canned coutureRusted delusions of serenity Insane stillness satisfies the blind searcherSilent giants tend to burped alphabets & monocled maniaMachine-cast madness wilts when challenged by true men of sacrifice Eyes indulged in infantsInfrared insight Peeked uncomfortable into the forever night Train station captainsCake-fed and candledBoasting tears devoured by truths and mouse tails Comforts discovered in shadowed bedsheetsSins scratched from beneath the sins of othersBeneath superficial skins and merged imaginations Open-eyed, dogged, power-hungry and pre-occupiedBrothers blinded, angels harrowedInnocent voices all Eyes…
Saturday, 03 September 2011 02:00

The Atoning Sax

By
The tone arm, like a silver-tipped wand touched the platterand invoked from the depths of the vinyl groovesan effect of sound and riffs, then a resurrection of memory.I was listening to it now, as I had done before an uncountable number of times,with its vestal freshness remaining unaffected by the replay,a contradiction the well worn phonographic tracks exposed. The very first time I heard it was at a live show.The notes startled with a quiet power and seductive novelty.They dragged over the internal landscape,arousing a long interred passion and energy I had almost forgotten,like a dawning light poured over a…
Saturday, 03 September 2011 02:00

This Clock

By
Didn't we just say it? Predictable antique on a constant loop. There you are,Making tickling turns. Pro-cyclic rings of little rest. Again, if we ask, please don't tell. The sun plays your role; unending natural timepieceSlow to burn or lie in faulty sequence. We just noticed, You've been on, and on: years and more and some moreTicking and making unsolicited rounds, forever.
Saturday, 03 September 2011 02:00

Godly People

By
Ten thousand years andwe have not changed.Our idioms -Climbing a mountain,Reaching for the sky,Family in the firmaments, ...Recycled matter, wekneel, we bow, we quake. Ten thousand years andwe still yearn for a splashof warm blood against our face; we want to be toldwho is chosen for slaughter;we yearn for pain laughter event;we to whom nothing ever happenswant something to happen as we have not changedin our lust for excitement.Festivals get boring withoutdrunken excess.We prefer our parties brimmingwith gossip and fashion.We yearn for convulsion,and uncommon theater.Man dies without passion. Rules bind the pash...rules free the pash too,at the appointed times. Our…
Saturday, 03 September 2011 02:00

The Measure of Infinity

By
In a car outside Eezy CaféWatching a Lotto-man play,The radio brought news From the land of kangaroos. "There are now more starsIn our expanding universe Than grains of sand On all the beaches on Earth." So they came to mind again,Impossibility and indivisibility;Two conjoining circlesEmbracing to capture infinity. I first met that sleeping eightIn Mr. Randall's maths debates. From pi and sine to love and hate,Our minds would race to open gates. On and on it goes, like fun.Like "How Many Zeros in a One?"And so the question came to stay;Where else, this unending play? The years slipped by, galaxies…
Saturday, 03 September 2011 02:00

Amniocentesis

By
  There are many Endlessnesses. I eat my breakfast with a dirty spoon. I sleep with your feet touching mine. My mother washed me hard. This is my second vigil for you. The sea is still,the ocean crashing. I pray in paintings. Seven minutes of surrender,and I begin to breathe again.
Saturday, 03 September 2011 02:00

Who cares?

By
  
Monday, 21 March 2011 02:00

Bar Code

By
On Thursdays the cops set up roadblocksat eight pee-em at both ends of the roadpast the bar, reports Brian the spliffedMalawian car-guard, not yet too stonednot to know what's potting. So grateful patrons driving hometo the bosom of their familiesgo the scenic route past the mosqueacross from the pub or the mansionsof the teetotallers who clog the pub'scar-park prior to prostrations. But Brian welcomes them with open palmsas after praying they're gracious with alms.
Monday, 21 March 2011 02:00

Four Prosettes

By
There is a fundamental problem with the 'constant revision' model of writing. The editors tell us that the work needs to be moulded, over and over again, until it is 'perfect'. Of course, any simpleton will be able to see that 'perfect' is nothing but an illusion. One can certainly improve upon any piece of writing, and endlessly as time moves on, until one could conceivably spend one's entire life on a single piece - 'perfecting' it. Ralph Ellison is said to have done something like this. Malcolm Lowry as well. What utter crap! Writing is life, and life moves…
Monday, 21 March 2011 02:00

Re: Your irregular bar code

By
Dear manager, Your neon sign invited me andI accepted the invitation butwhen stepping across your scarlet threshold Iwas rapidly informed byyour tired girl in grey thatI was not correctly styled. What? said I, am I not pert enough, nothot enough, notcool enough foryour establishment? Am I not good enough, Icried. It's not that, said she, but wehave a bar code here; oneto which we strictly adhere lestyour presence offend ourirregular patrons. Upon enquiring (now with polite entreaty) as towhat this code might be, I wasinformed that if Idid not know, did nothave the correct stamp of approval, thatno amount of…
Monday, 21 March 2011 02:00

Cheeks

By
When she slappedEither educationInto meOr noise out of meMy primary teacher She believedAfrican childrenCannot learnWithout the stick - in this case the slap When she slapped me For whatever reasonHer convictions Or my heathen black stubbornnessShe left III marks Embedded on my cheeksLike the tattoos of the Nubians Just IIILike her other two fingers were not thereThick sausage projectionsWhich beneath harboredFear and resentment of her
Monday, 21 March 2011 02:00

The Journey

By
I Havana- The capital of CubaA port in the Northweston the Gulf of Mexico,the largest city in theCaribbean, founded in 1514,as San Cristobal de laHabana by Diego Velasquez: Let me beginBy sayingSmall things,Things to forgetAnd things To dismember You thinkI am false? Have you not heardOf a silent mutterAnd a gracious noise? Have you not heard? You ran into meChaotic and stoned:How many times did youthink of my naked bodyand healthy marrows? Have you been honest with me? Somebody slept overat the houseThere was a minor deathIn the familyEveryone forgot. Didn't you know?       II Cordillera- A series…
Monday, 21 March 2011 02:00

Spiritual Shrapnel

By
the battle rages on insidetorn skin glazing over the volcanic urge to break freeto unmould oneself off the treaded path ions hurtling off bloody platelets converge into tidy patterns of acceptednesswhile the endless scream of non-conformity fragments the light barrier skimming past startled meteors a thousand years of madnessand automatons roam the planetmarching to an ungodly forcesimmering with hateenthralled by certificates of ignorancebejewelled in materialism awaken, beasts of intelligenceunlearn your mortal behavioursreturn to the state of gracethat was yours from the beginning
Monday, 21 March 2011 02:00

Sojourn

By
I loved the morgue,but not for anything within itself.One could hardly grow to endear the smell of stale preservation.Not the black fluid from beneath the massive mahogany doors,or the fate of the forgotten and unknown who sleep beyond,who do not mind the mould on their skin or the hard cold of their rusty gurneys at their backs It is not in their ashen complexions once animated by emotionor the now horribly rigid stillness of their features. When people came here, an invisible diffidence settled on them.They whispered their questions, even though the loudest ravings would draw no protestations and offend…
Monday, 21 March 2011 02:00

Miss Rhodian

By
An intoxicated creature who begins the night tidily vertical, ends it rendered chaotically horizontally; the unpaid servant to a perpendicular-needle-narrow mind.Look - Good God: they're out again! dreadfully drunk and staggering like rheumy foals, and never doubt it: they'll pray on Sunday. Oh, they are beautiful, so vacuously beautiful. Colt legged, this species knows how to lick attention onto themselves: stilettos crafted to a height which sculpt their sinuous limbs to the most remarkably arresting tones of fawn, edged by russet brown: an undulating physique down-woven like a most elegantly knotted branch; the mini-dress, ensuring that all can enjoy the…
Monday, 21 March 2011 02:00

fragmented freedom

By
we are sailing in an ocean of lies it's a journey with no destinywe are slaves of silent voicesour choicesare always drenched in streamsand our dreamsare shutteredburnt and scattered we are the victims of indoctrination and commercialised religions only illusionsare reflected on the mirrors of life& the truth is distortedcoz our ancestral and royal blood has been dilutedby western acidsevil gods speakin immortal voices and we bow for devildonating our souls
Monday, 21 March 2011 02:00

Somewhere between blood and rust

By
Seething shores descendingsons stagger unhinged and flaykeep safe between bridgesdiving to conquer a thing founddislodged still. Dredges tension stickingpressure columns palpitatebeating to a futurescars encrust. The history of rust achingsilent daughters disembowela sieve filtering language and bones. ...some glad morning when this life is over, i'll fly away... Suckle unto a solace fallingunmangle and let stay.Tincture tastes a stench rememberedamong massacred dancing toesstabbing kisses that damage and hangspewing severed perception and flesh. ...i'll fly away, oh glory, i'll fly away...
   the clutches of the long minute and short hour hands reflected in her eye. a man in sunglasses was texting in her peripheral. what to eat, what to eat. she looked at the cement ground. the sun was at her back and some wasps were dancing like electrons around an empty coke can with a chewed straw in it. if you looked really close, you could see her wanting to walk off. she glanced at her watch then at the garbage beside her then slid to the other end of the bench. she looked back at the garbage. how…
Monday, 21 March 2011 02:00

Counterfeit

By
                    "Like a Virgin" (Work in Progress) is a series of text that addresses the varied technologies women and men have concocted to counterfeit virginity. These technologies are inextricably tied to religious and cultural paradigms that (ir)rationally assign a women's worth according to her virginity. Also, these technologies are without a doubt also tied to a capitalist structure in which these religious and cultural paradigm having at once already exploited women, are then themselves exploited in the pursuit of financial gain. From those in the medical field to those in the…
Monday, 21 March 2011 02:00

Salem

By
sitting on a stone in early springstaring at the stark surroundsred earth, aloes and rockslight dancing on a distant dam I see the path we have followedtwin tracks worn through the veldthree white cars in the distancedust rising from a dirt road the national road is never farthe noise of traffic floats on the breezetelephone wires trace the horizonwords flow silently over the hills
Sunday, 07 November 2010 02:00

True Within is Beauty

By
Truly after my mind is the imagination That has you saunter in on cueWithout warningLate MorningAnd the Sun is playing games with no rulesAnd I'm surrounded by foolsSurrounded by jewelsDull to the gem that is youAs you surely fill your shoes and pay your dues- and this is the tricky part where I feel familiar to your gaitBut I must wait to hear your beatOr at least for our four eyes to meetAnd, like Romeo, I'll touch your feetYou're a picture so complete I feel cheapThough I'm bouncing the same lights as youBut my body's lost too many fights, it's…
Sunday, 07 November 2010 02:00

emoticonoclasm

By
see, there's sensibly no C in Greek,and no K in the Holy See whose iconolatryby breakaway Byzantines was bellicoselybristled over(as the airbrush had yet to be invented)though their own Apostles, disciples, saintsand guardians were copiously palletised. but those same ol', same ol' subjects jadedthe artists of less pious predilections,who thus turned their heads and handsto more illustrious subjects:politicos, movie stars and soup cans —  yea, verily, even a soup brandwith the appellation of a Scottish clanhas ascended to latter-day iconography.  ergo, with the devolution of postmodernism —reductionism, deconstructionism, even nihilismnow stake their claims in the cataclysm of angels,with all credulity…
Sunday, 07 November 2010 02:00

Blackberry

By
Siya handles his Blackberry like a small child, mother-board and horizontal. He names it Bill, clicks it into its crib, letting the noise of that fitseal and rope the air, like a monitor. When Bill breaks, he carries it into my room, the cover of his hands cupped, a cot. I put my finger to its face, which is foreign, and blinking, which is remindful of options outside the manual. "Fucked," he tells me.
Sunday, 07 November 2010 02:00

A Prayer for Endless :)

By
summer smellswhere :) never fadedoes joy tastecan we communicate ......brb....... endless haste i long for the tasteof desirewrapped in tanned skin my dreams never waitand today is onlyyesterday but we trytotype out a futurebehind a screenin frontnowbehind. i am lostbut i think...i saw a bit of bliss endless kisses and hazy memoriesbut i want to touchaface is this youor is this a broken visionof me ;) cheers to smilesthat never endand days that bleedinto nights make somethingtonight xoxoxo
Sunday, 07 November 2010 02:00

Two Poems

By
# 1 Sharing a space on a balconyat the poshest party in townglasses singinglaughter pearlingas we watch,the biggest hubba bubba,witnessed by mankind grow and growand grow some more and burst with cheers.  # 2 Quiet white noise Soft voices from the neighbours downstairsconversing and laughingsteps underneath me left to rightand back a cave out of blanketsa warm, musty holeShimmering lights on this autumn eveningfrom black dawn night to heavy petting.
Sunday, 07 November 2010 02:00

Wake Up

By
The half-lit morning didn't wake me: it was the neighbor-kids' shrieking,their wild running for the bus, as it screeched and stopped, a waiting game they practice often. I went to the window: the air was thick and naked with wet autumn,the smell of dead leaves, ragged and worn like my running shoes. My feet trod through the gray light until it became a ruby sun: a red smiley-face stamp,like the one our teacher gave us instead of gold stars, for math and for not swearing. On the corner, I tried to cross: a FedEx truck blocked my path, butthe driver…
Sunday, 07 November 2010 02:00

Smiling

By
The thread that parts the lipsOften dangles in a straight line: Disturbed only by words or sighsIt rests in an all-encompassing eye. It wisps every now and againWhenever the winds change;Some choose to grasp itLike a wandering balloon, and run Soaring and roaringAll day long in the air. Others let the day whisper byWith too little liftWith no breath of lifeTo make the ends curl.
Sunday, 07 November 2010 02:00

DiMaggio's Girl

By
The great tragedy about her, it seemed to mewas that whilst all she ever said or did was in the pursuit of happiness,she never seemed to learn what that happiness really meant or how to preserve it,not until the very end, when it barely mattered any more. Not that you could discern it just by looking at her,the very embodiment of robust beauty and luxury with a humming basal sensuality.She had an enchantment about her, ratified in the dregs of her many loveswhom she seemed so soon to forgetyet who themselves remained long injured by her rejection.It wasn't about any…
Sunday, 07 November 2010 02:00

Cheka

By
He probably had some unromantic sober name,solid and manly like his mama wanted him to bebut Cheka was adept to him for now,stupid and entitled.This was Malindi,so people barely turned to stare when a black beach boywhispered sweet nothings into the accepting ears of a Westernerfit to have given him birth or older still.If you did turn each time, it began to strain the neck.But Cheka and his mistress were different. He had hard distinct features,a large jaw that gave a hominid finish to him,untidy peppercorn hair that he didn't often comb.He liked lime green,so his T- shirt, original Adidas…
Sunday, 07 November 2010 02:00

She said, Smile

By
She said..... "Smile"Even just to smileMassage the tension in the jawRelease the jailed teeth they want to be freeWith a "Smile" .....She Said She said..... "Smile"Unlock it Emancipate Your LoveFree Your arms so I can embrace your charmRun with the face and leave your body And die With a "Smile".....She Said She used to sayFrowns that turn to smiles can be heardWith the open soulThe sounds of happiness are radiant smile'sLike shining gospel of the faceHer spirit remains in my earShe said..... and I respondWith a "Smile"
Sunday, 07 November 2010 02:00

Milestones, Physics and Philosophy

By
    He decelerated (squared), and distanced himself from the speed of light (squared) which was his perpetual divisor. The dividend fell further from 1, which was being subtracted from another. The difference was growing dramatically from 0. A measurable square root could be had and divided into yet another 1, which thankfully diverged from infinity. He evened out and was able to take note of the material circumstances of life. It was just in time, too.December. Union Square Park. There was precipitation. Whether or not it was snow, rain or just mist was up for debate. Her jacket was…
Sunday, 07 November 2010 02:00

Strange Afternoon

By
You're sitting in fish and chips heaven. Pink and light blue neon surround your frozen smile while you look at the teenager behind the counter, feeling your cock's elongating one inch to the sight of his muscles. Muscles.Muscles and desire. You stare at the boyish yet masculine teenager, he looks at you and smiles.You smile back. The air smells like detergent. A fat-ass lady is moping the floor with loads of detergent water. You're in Whitechapel. You're in Sydenham.You're in New Cross. You're in Kennington.You're in Bergamo. You're in Laos.You're in Greenwich. You're in Seattle. You're in Paris. You're in…
Sunday, 07 November 2010 02:00

Pause #12

By
They were homeless -I mean, life-long homelessWith the crust to prove it,In a way that "home" was as unremembered as the womb. They were holding hands.
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