I am truly grateful that my adventures into these fantastical realms aren't always done alone but with the company of other writers, other escapees. They too have discovered the not-so-secret world of imagination and offer themselves to me and I to them. We merge like mists, dissolving into one another and into shared dreamscapes and at other times thrust upon each other in mock wars where we bleed and battle with fearsome ferocity.
calling all writers…
Where are all the mouthy fringe dwellers, the genius goofballs, shadow whisperers, smart weirdos and weird smart-asses? We want literary magicians, word mavens, thought tazers, love bombers, in-ya-facers, opinionators and soul soothers.
Bring us your fare, your fiercely fictitious and flirtatiously factual, powerful prose, profound poetry and razored non-fiction; literary libations to intoxicate the masses.
We’re looking for regular contributors who’ve harnessed (or released) their literary prowess, who command their words or are possessed by them. You’ll join a hand-picked team of exquisitely articulate artists committed to sculpting a fascination and passion for literature and art.
Send us your succulent samplings here: firstname.lastname@example.org
Please include a link to your blog or website and a little snippet about yourself along with your submission.
I did not know you before, unrainbowed colour. Your hue dances between the sweetness of honey and the heat of spice and yet, I cannot place you in familiar territory. Perhaps I've seen you reflected in others eyes but mine, mine have never fallen, though they ache to do so. Did you brush my... Continue Reading →
Reblogging my MP introductory piece
“I just hold the brush; Inspiration is the true artist.” ~ Maggie L.
Beneath the noontide sun I wait,
my thirst calls to you
and I cannot quiet it.
I’m wrecked by knowledge
you’ll bathe me again,
bleeding into me
as you shred on my sharp edges.
Gulls mock my anguish
with their lofty cries
knowing your death
is my birth
and vice versa.
Such is my burden;
heaven and hell in your wake.
From that watery grave in your eyes
rises a blood blue moon.
It seems fitting that your return
should be heralded
by such an auspicious rising
yet I am as solemn in your approach
as I am mute in my protestations.
You rise to me, compelled
yet spare no vigor.
Smashing down upon those jagged places
you wash over me,
fill the spaces between my pain
and try as I might to…
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~by Nitin Lalit Murali & Maggie Lawson The different ways I tell you that I love you. ~ by Nitin Lalit Murali I could tell you I love you in myriad ways, but when stripped to the core, you’ll find seven perfect symbols embodying the holy trinity of darkness, purgatory and redemption. So, while the... Continue Reading →
“This is not night, but morning’s eve” I recently wrote an article about hope and how that is reflected in my city, how I see myself in its scarred landscape. A good friend suggested that perhaps I wasn’t telling the full story, that there was more to my affinity for Christchurch than I spoke of; he was right.... Continue Reading →
Looking in the mirror, I thumb the braille of my history, sliding fingers over the raised narrative I had no part in writing. Every day I see her handiwork and every day I painstakingly cover it to camouflage, just so people will look me in the eye and not there or awkwardly away. I don’t... Continue Reading →
The demon storm is raging in my head, love, I can feel it pulling the darkness in my chest. It’s all I can do to cage the fury within. Then howl, my love, rip the sky from its ceiling, shred the heavens with your anguish, tear the flesh from earth's bones and when you're... Continue Reading →
When the plates grate And your cities tremble Become lava Ooze out your fissures Sear the skin of your earth Feel the blistering rage And seethe When waters writhe Reaching to the sun Become a tsunami Pour yourself out Prostrate and prone Feel the fragile thinness Of evaporation And sigh You were never meant to... Continue Reading →