Category Archives: POEMS

Lightbringer ~ The one restored collaboration

A collaboration. Two different worlds collide and break. Myriads of shards fly apart. A broken glass… They say it’s good luck. Matt and I gathered the shards carefully. We didn’t hurry. We enjoyed the process. Our collaboration is like a restored stained-glass window. I must admit that the picture that appeared when we finished was a big surprise for both of us.

I want to put one of Matt’s comments here.

“This one had a profound effect on me, my philosophy and beliefs.”

I don’t know what I can add here. Thank you, Matt! Thank you for your courage, for your honesty. Thank you for your talent.

I’m proud of our collaborations.

lucifer_by_caelicorn

Lucifer by Caelicorn

If a world is a house
and people are windows
I am the window which is always dark

Too long I was under your curse
I doted too hard on you
I was doped… near a fatal dose

Upon cold Earth I fell
raptured by the hungry darkness…
as years like days passed

The transparency slowly fled
My glass tempered and stained by rain
scraping my pane like salted tears

I am a black leukoma
on the spotless white face
Inoperable, necrotic cells

I was deplumed to blood by you
I was grilled to ash by you
I was the roasted angel…

But I will know light again
for my descendants are many
on the final stage they have placed me…

Rustle of maracas
and cold black candle-ends
are around me. I take a wax knife

Shamans circle – music peaks
West winds blow relentless
My rite of passage awaits

I fight with bright sunshine
to the last drop of day
I kill it like a mad savage beast

The years are purged now
My ethos born anew
beneath stars of endless night

If a world is a house
and people are windows
I am the window licked clean by hatred

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & THIS MORTAL FLESH
© All rights reserved 2015

The Odd Days & Life of Elatha Jarlath McGhille. Part A. Eanáir ~ The one came in from the cold collaboration

Guys, do you remember Elatha Jarlath McGhille? No? Okay! Don’t sweat it!

The most important thing is that you remember Gregory. His blog, cocktailmolly, supports independent artists, writers, poets… Greg pushes up young talents and does his best for every new voice so that they can be heard. But not many people know that Greg is a brilliant poet himself. Yes, he is! You can believe word. (No? You can’t believe me? You can check cocktailmolly to make sure that I’m not a liar!)

I’m lucky because I enjoy the privilege not only of reading Greg’s stunning works but collaborating with Greg! So, it’s the next part of our saga ‘The Odd Days & Life of Elatha Jarlath McGhille’. Ladies and Gentlemen! Take your plaids and thermoses! Today is pretty chilly…

raaf_home

This story starts where other stories end.
It was just another boring weekend.
Under the black sky and moon glow
Peering from the apartment window
My eyes. Frustrated still waters percolating wonder
At walking chimes seeking permission to ring louder.
Next Christmas passed by like a commuter train
and Santa ignored my letters again.
I write on the frozen glass ‘Nevermore’…
It’s nearly dawning. The chimes struck four.
Causing a celebration for equanimity.
A new year and no one hears me.
Within itself exploding volcanoes that will force more to grow.
To ring louder & louder as a thunderous burst causes a show.
That fire in the sky is our voices.
Debating the ideas running from sheep & the mischief of Corvus.
Will timelessness stretch out to the crack of doom?
My stagnant mind returns to my airless room.
Old musty wallpapers with whitish spots
from removed portraits… it makes no odds.
I never loved their histrionic look…
I look up at the ceiling with an empty hook.
That is used to grab hold
At the edge of an opening crack shaded gold
Stretched until it’s a spinning hole.
Full of cosmic colors. My dreaming’s out of control,
As the cosmic color filling oozes onto my bed
Taking shapes like the human body, lying next to me, it said
Something about splashes of inspirational kisses,
Sunshine smiles and enlightened darkness going for miles.

…the sky removes a black dress with starry cufflinks
and wraps itself in a pink peignoir… My egregore winks.
“Elatha, we waited a long time for you. Let’s go!
It’s time to meet with your replicas and talk to your echo.
It’s time to learn who you are and what your real telos is…
Well… are you ready to stop your watches?”
Stop. Everything stops.
His story revealed. A soulful blues.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & GREGORY WAITS JR.
© All rights reserved 2015

Oops!… We Did It Again (GUEST POST // Less Than Two by Tony Single)

Erm… hullo there. (This is rather awkward…)

Dear Reader, the stuff that was originally posted here has been removed.

We have done this because said stuff has since been included in one of our published books. We hope you’ll believe us when we say we’re not trying to be stingy. No, this has been done to honour the people who have already spent their hard-earned money on our eBook creations.*

If, however, for some reason you’re unable to buy one of our books, and feel you’ll die without seeing this piece of writing, then please contact us via admin@unbolt.me. We won’t allow our Dear Readers to fade away in the dark. We’ll send you the piece in question, and it will be absolutely free. All you need do is ask.

* Of course, we would be like two happy puppies if you too decided to buy one of our books.

by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2015-2018

Blooming

for my Purple Creature

Please, please, don’t think that
butterflies are silly with
a short memory

Please, please, don’t think that
they sit on this withered bush
without a purpose

No… They remember
its beauty. They remember
all colors and forms

How it bloomed before
a thunder-bolt that summer
Yes, they remember

They sit the same day
every year… it’s a present
The birthday present
The present from butterflies
for their depressed withered friend

by TETIANA ALEKSINA
© All rights reserved 2015

GUEST POST // Deep into the woods by Malicia Frost

640px-Rottrollen_-_John_Bauer_1917

John Bauer, Rottrollen or Root Trolls (1917)

Deep into the woods forgotten and somber
Far beyond the footsteps of man
Lies a small, solitary cabin
Sheltered from the rest of the world

It is home to a group of monsters
Who were unable to humanize themselves to us
Thrown away, deserted
Rejected by society, such as I

I found my place here
as one of them
Even though I lack fangs and horns
I am, as they are, one

And when the community throws itself at me mercilessly
I retreat to my safe haven
When I can’t stand the worlds obscurity
All my monsters comfort me

In search of internal fellowship
I explored the darkest fathoms of my mind
Such love I hid there!
Behind a pair of emerald green demon eyes

by MALICIA FROST
© All rights reserved 2015