Categories
affectation Americana crime film forensics funerals journalism mythology nightmares poetry punk rituals travel writing Uncategorized Urban Legends vice war writing

lore

just a man

drag off a cigarette smirk

a walking shell game

snake in a can

so backwards in life

one questions

reports of his death

yet

he would crookedly smile

calling it

legend

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Abelard and Heloise Americana astrolabe astronomy baseball writing beauty cemeteries chronology cinema civility coffee comfort dance death divinity fairy tales forensics fucking funerals iconography life literature local color love poetry mortuary science non-fiction punk relationships religion shooting stars Southern Gothic Urban Legends writing

memento mori

Marci Payne

Categories
Americana analysis death funerals

crazy

it was the moment

my body fell limp

6.5 years old carried

in my big brothers arms

during the final casket receiving line

when i realized

i would never kiss my father again

that was the moment

my sanity didn’t survive

Categories
local color love poetry mourning muse

will you still love me tomorrow

he loved me completely

he had the sweetest, big dumb bear grin

honey dripping even

when he looked at me

he smiled the length of the eastern seaboard

crooked loving sunshine in smiles over 5 o’clock stubble

whilst buying me tiny lobsters made of chocolate

took 1,001 pictures of me drinking coffee, eating lemon Italian ice

marveling at hermit crabs wearing ornately bejeweled shells

navigating social media oceans and long distance romances

from Neptune City to New York Harbor

we nearly sank together

we never truly said goodbye

we never stopped wanting

we never stopped feeling

but he never trusted himself

he never trusted me

though he had many names for me

baby gurl

angel kitten

alicia honey

sweetie poof,

and sometimes simply,

mine

he lied

and then abandoned me to coddle

his comfortable failures.

He once told me the opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s indifference.

How’s that working out, jack?

I knew he would never have the courage

to call me the one thing he should have called me:

his wife.

Categories
Art

your mudda

Categories
Uncategorized

Make Your Own Fun -079: Alicia Young-Neville

Hosted by the hilarious Eric Lawson, Make Your Own Fun is a series where writers of every ilk are interviewed, but mostly freegin’ poets.

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Abelard and Heloise activism Americana animals Anne Boleyn astrolabe astronomy baseball writing battle beauty belief bibliophilia biology books botany California cartography cemeteries childhood Christmas chronology cinema civility coffee comedy comfort communication confections corsets crime criminal behavior dance death desserts destruction deviance digital art digital photography divinity domestic violence drawing ecology education electoral process English epicuriosity epidemeology Europe fairy tales family fashion fauna feminism festivities fiction film food forensics fucking funerals furniture geneology geography girl stuff good reads government government and a lack thereof gratitude Halloween happiness health Hell history holidays human behavior iconography Jazz journalism kindness kinetics Lent life literature local color love poetry medicine mindfulness mortuary sciences mourning muse museums Music mythology nature non-fiction Ohio ornithology painting pandemics papyrus parenthood parenting Paris performance photography physics poetic theory politics pop culture produce psychology public broadcasting publishing punk puppies reading red hair in the morning, fucker grab a cab relationship studies relationships religious studies reproductive rights rituals romance science science writing seasons self-care self-love sex sexism sexuality shitty shit shooting stars Short Stories slang society sociology sociopathology Southern Gothic Southern Living suicide technology thanatology the arts The British Royal Crown theatre theism theology tomes traditions travel writing Uncategorized Urban Legends vice war waste weddings women words writing

Poof* Take MY water

https://youtu.be/eg2Kw1jIXOw

Categories
Americana art cemeteries childhood chronology comfort family history journalism local color mourning muse Ohio Southern Gothic writing

exposed cobblestone

it’s never quiet

in the city at night

however i’ve found

if my boots are planted quietly

amidst 3am lamplight

standing in space once occupied

by a storied brick house where my

great grandfather aged 90

lived and died

i can hear elm street recalling sadly

that he left for the hereafter

decades before i arrived

Categories
activism art astronomy behavior belief cemeteries destruction ecology epidemeology humanity journalism life mindfulness mythology nightmares pandemics poetry politics pop culture punk science writing shooting stars technology travel writing writing

Does this look infected?

who knew

the 6th mass extinction

on the planet

would be set into motion

not by a furious comet

instead thrown into chaos

by an insidious cloud

of misinformation

(que piano music)

Categories
art belief cemeteries childhood Christmas chronology comfort dance death divinity fucking funerals happiness humanity life love poetry religion science science writing self-care shooting stars travel writing writing

travel writing

what we call eternity lasts

approximately 3 seconds

it is the state of a happy heart

at the moment of your death

as your brain powers down

the last thing it processes are images of

everything you ever loved

mercifully

that is our shared heaven