A Call for Submissions

calling all writers…

MORALITY PARK

morality-park.jpg

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: moralityparksubmissions@gmail.com

Please include a link to your blog or website and a little snippet about yourself along with your submission.

MP Editor

Maggie Lawson

View original post

Introducing: Maggie Lawson ~ Wrecked

Reblogging my MP introductory piece

MORALITY PARK

“I just hold the brush; Inspiration is the true artist.” ~ Maggie L.

Wrecked

Beneath the noontide sun I wait,

scorched

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,

flood me,

fill the spaces between my pain

and try as I might to…

View original post 53 more words

Monstrosity

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 →

Just be

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 →

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: