#nostigma
Thank you to my friend Justin for sharing his message. He was the first person I called when I began my journey. He stopped everything to reach out to me. He is a friend and an inspiration.
Please subscribe to his YouTube channel.
Fire and Rebirth
If anyone has not read Georgia Park, please do so. There is a reason she is one of my favorite poets. She is a unique writer who has a way of singing her life in an unflinching manner. She is also very special person.
Henna Johansdotter “Nebula”
Wonderful new poem by one of my favorite poets. Henna is a masterful writer. Please take the time to go to her page and like her on Twitter.
In my world
the woman is deathless
stellar gazes
delayed by
a thousand light years
don’t forget
to feed your god
swallow your testimony
and
zip up your confidence
tuck in these words
safely underneath Adam’s rib:
no you’re not
in love with me anymore,
but I still am
and when the light
of this destruction
reaches you
we may have been dead
for a millennium
[Please follow Henna on Twitter @HjdPoetry. Her poetry can also be found at HjdPoetry.]
Henna Johansdotter, the goth girl next-door. Aspiring author. Monstrophile. Horror enthusiast. She writes to cope with mental illness and everyday experiences.
I STAND WITH DARKNESS! – JASPER KERKAU
This is the post excerpt.
Would I give up my torment for a better life? Trade my constricted words for laughter at restaurants with jovial sorts with funny handshakes and antidotes about country life. I could chemically alter the color of my walls and meet a charming girl with a big smile and hearty laugh who will take down all my art, replace it with funny phrases painted on plaques made out of driftwood. She could lead my around by my thumb, put me in pastel shirts and feed me to a congregation of hungry Mexican food eating Presbyterians with good intentions. Maybe I could work up to being a people person and start watching the weather, get a favorite sports team and have heated arguments with co-workers over draft picks.
Could I sacrifice my darkness for happiness? I could let my doctor have his way, cleanse my mind, lose Thomas Wolfe, the eternal quest for home, the desire to walk among the downtrodden, handing in my bona fides for junk food culture and political identification which leads to more arguments. Maybe I could just catch my breath, become acquainted with the recliner, let my troubles wash away, turn from the wicked, press my face against institutional carpet, let God’s mercy pour over me as I bask in the glow of chemically manifested nothing. They are circling me with lab coats, wanting to squeeze all the labored thought out of me, but what will I have left? I stand with darkness!
Jasper Kerkau
The Silent Desire – Jasper Kerkau
I am devoured by the vast space between us, the unrequited silence that leaves me burning into ash and charred bone. There are the quiet moments, in which I touch my palm to her heaving chest, feel the breath of heart and hunger against my cheek as I pull her close to me. I embrace the essence, the soft middle that melts to the touch and brings about sleep. We pass in stiff silence. I swallow words, nod a hello and continue to burn in anonymity. Tomorrow will be different.
[Jasper Kerkau is co-founder, editor, writer, and publisher for Sudden Denouement Literary Collective and Publishing.]
suddendenouement.com
Strange Ritual of Lust – Jasper Kerkau
I breathed her name in an invocation of memory, a strange ritual of lust and remembrance. The broken vases of time, the scattered embers of chance encounters and goodbyes that sting forever. “I will love you for a thousand years,” I wrote it on her heart, devoured her flesh, swallowed her as we dug into a new place. But everything is fleeting, people become strange and distant. Little miracles happen in life that takes us to different worlds. I remember the fights, the ashtray she threw at my head and didn’t remember, the comfortable make-ups that would last until they didn’t. We carved each other’s names on our skin that brought up beads of blood that stung when submerged in alcohol and the year that everything turned inside-out. In my dreams we dance and kiss one last time, shedding the new skin, bathing again in the glow of our young love.
A Kiss Jasper Kerkau
We yielded, then danced, crashing into each other. Our teeth clashed as the sadness washed the soot away. It was a moment that flashed and receded in the soft shower of time.
Write – Jasper Kerkau
Write the shit you want to read, nobody gives a fuck anyway.
always blood on the patio Jasper Kerkau
Shook out of another dream. “There is blood all over the patio.”
“There is always blood on the patio,” lighting cigarette butt from ashtray.
“This is different and strange.”
“Fuck.”
“Do you even remember last night?” I didn’t, and her tone reveals a lot.
“Of course I do. We had some people over, some laughs.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” She leaves an angry void in the doorway.
“I guess we didn’t have any laughs,” I mumble to myself digging in the grimy half-light for my pants.
Ghost brother – Jasper Kerkau
I have a brother that I ghosted like everyone else. Too strange to call now, too many storms and a mother who is mine and not his. I screamed at her. She didn’t blink. One day she will go to ash, and I can make it right.
The Writings of Jasper Kerkau 