One internet post. Ten Poets. Less than thirty days.
Read an unlikely collection of poems submitted by users of a certain social networking site. A diversity of voices communicating on a range of topics through the art of verse. Brought to you by an even more unlikely source, Rotting Horse Publishing.
A house of horror delivers its most unexpected work yet. No blood or boogeymen needed to tell this story.
The story of us.
Available on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Scattered-Voices-Collection-Strangers-Internet/dp/1500142840
Read more "Scattered Voices: A Collection of Poems Shared by Strangers on the Internet"
Along the flopping rain bootspass the trees and reckless birds.Ville smudges by, on the run, a dark streakhunting leaves and twigs, waiting for me. On my left, ‘tween the mud, leaning against mushroom eaten trees, these leavesalmost purple in their decay. A trigger.As I run that line again: purple in their decay. The Listener comes […]
Read more "The silence between thoughts"
A surreal stare at the room. Out of proportion, cast from one mobile phone to the next. A video call, shuffling in the background. Outside is a pandemic, a friend says hello in a mask. In the middle of the shot a while box. A casket and in it, allegedly, our dear friend. Our friend […]
Read more "Goodbye…"
This dark day in December shocked all of us. Our dear friend, our so dear Ville has slipped away from us into realms we can only dream of, but not visit. We cannot sit down in the sauna a last time and crack jokes, we cannot feel the important when he feeds us his wisdom […]
Read more "Go bravely into that night…"
Left in the dark, this dimming
globe, shelled violently,
with this expelled lump
hovering close. The lost lover.
Time mollifies the red anger,
before the Gods discover
the blue pearl, diving in
for a swim, resting their lazy bones.
Their dirt and flakes of skin sink
into the black smokers, a trigger,
the catalyst, a movement, the awakening.
Yet, evanescent as Gods are…
But there slowly, unseen brew Natura
with its essential qualities, its disposition
irrevocably innate “; a literal birth,
while the winds and rain drew the mountains.
While the sun was welcomed in shallow waters
While cells merged and moved and crawled
While land turn green, slowly mists fed it
While colorful invitations drew insects
While the hunters laid lazily in the tall grass
While the splash of the ocean ground the rocks
While fish schooled and deer lashed
While men awoke with questions, in awe
While the stars burned, died and stole all the light
While all that happened, the Gods looked back
and in amazement smiled at what their bath had drawn:
the most fragile dot emerged in endlessness.
© Casteleijn MG. 2020
The image is the famous Pale Blue Dot photograph of planet Earth taken on February 14, 1990, by the Voyager 1 space probe from a record distance of about 6 billion kilometers.
Read more "Kishar’s Wonders"
Down the hill, pasted the trees, lies the lake.
Ripples follow the fickle winds, drawn all over.
The warm glow in the bitter sky bites deep
into the far side, rounded at the free end.
From this vista, there was no compromise
on a purview, no misconception nor ignorance.
A moth ticked the glass, eager to halt concern
over such unpredictable things, just in awe.
Yet, ungraspable out of reach was understanding
of such senseless things, vendettas sprinkled
with exclusivity. Until you talked to others,
who went thought it. Through the darkest pain.
And the lake stares back, inviting, indifferent.
Casteleijn M.G. © 2020.
Image: Casteleijn M.G. © 2020.
Read more "Swimming in the dark"
Peeled back, these covers
once unveiled such a smooth
surface scantily. Clad in rags,
shredded cotton over mildew,
sinewy, yet still strong, somehow
sensual, it all endures.
Scraped off, this white film
unveils a cracked, pitted
surface, once teal, of a faded
green. Somehow, these tiles
hold back murky waters, which
the savior silently assures.
Shrunk, wrinkled this casing
once held on to a curious smooth
tannin taste, now just sprinkled
on morning porridge. The noble
grape once was only for the affluent,
now fake candy, horrid lures.
So we reflect our visage, yet pray
we do not get lost in this gaze
bouncing of the silvered surface,
such fragile glass once was mighty
a mountain, then sand, by time worn.
A future by infinity obscured.
© Casteleijn MG. 2019-2020
Amazing image by: AGOSTINO ARRIVABENE
Read more "Asymmetric flow"
Holds its breath
They drew a
(c) Casteleijn MG. 2020
Read more "Contentious clown show"
Why not wake up from a hot stretch? Why not cool down and let entropy take you? Why not forget those scary steps into existence, avoiding the cobweb that forms the soul, so sticky? Soulless madness toils away forever past the drifts of dreams, past the future and the now, even out of time. Forgotten. […]
Read more "A sequence born out of nothing"
Are these the times, Deflocking from our tribes sticking to new ones slowly heating in the pot like frogs unbothered, while we point and laugh, Cry, and digest content build by content builders larger than anything some Gods promised, we take the water from the desert sands? Are these the times, we unrecognize our screen-lit […]
Read more "This fading song"
While the light beyond the crack
around the wooden window cover
While Šerida takes her husband’s
hand into where horizon’s privacy
While even the bleating of goats
or child sinks into the silent dessert
While the cooling blanket dims
all shadows into dense ethereal
While far beyond understanding
the bride’s noises travel with her
There in Nanna’s silvered plane
outside the mud brick wall’s
There shivering under the dying
moon and void of all energy thus
There trembling on horizon’s edge
the heat of Utu’s bride
builds the silence before dawn.
(c) Casteleijn MG. 2019
Awesome image from Zdzisław Beksiński, Surreal Landscape (1982)
Some are hunted and some are hunters. Others will find only the Beginning of beginnings to be comforting…
Read more "Of the Bride’s Moans"