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

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

© 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…


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.

© All rights reserved 2015

GUEST POST // Deep into the woods by Malicia Frost


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

© All rights reserved 2015

Oops!… We Did It Again (Phronesis)

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 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.

© All rights reserved 2015-2018

The Odd Days & Life of Elatha Jarlath McGhille. Part 0. Prologue ~ The one came in from the cold collaboration

I love collaborations.
I do love collaborations.

LOL! Deja vu, yes?

Well, guys, I know, the less I write, the less mistakes I make. I just want to say that I’m happy to show you my second collaboration with Greg. No, I haven’t learnt more about Greg during the last month. The color of his eyes and his blood type stay a big mystery for me still. And his zodiac sign too But, do you know, I don’t care! His sparkling talent and his twisted imagination are enough for me. Just relax… take it easy… and have great fun with us!

celtic arm band tat tattoo 02

he was taught to do multitude ingenious things
carving fine soap bubbles and beading tissue wings
…an inevitable interruption of such teachings
midnight phantasmagoria, suspected visions

as barking wings crawl along his wall as shadows.
fright? no. impressed… then comes the invitations –
join to the Halloween party in the gingerbread house!
guest stars are Koschei the Immortal and Mickey Mouse!

no. impressed… he throws the flier into the bin
and greets an old banshee, sipping acrid gin
“Aha! Haha!” she yells then claps her hands
a moment of mental illumination perhaps. She stands

then begins to sing songs off and on key surprisingly
Rock&Roll-Old Soul-R&B… then empties her bags for him to see
an ‘A-minor’ whistle, two vials with scalding tears, false nails,
a half-finished piece of knitting, a book with Celtic fairy tales…

“Where are my glasses?” “On your head… shoo!” (the barking wings
try to filch a clew from the bag) “Shoo!! I’ll clip your hamstrings!”
She clips at the air with her scissors,
like a pair of hand hedge trimmers,

“WTF!” yelled the barking wing
Her response, “You’re gonna have ta learn ta respect somethin’.”
He laughs up his sleeve at this innocent bustle
they adore each other, it’s a friendly hustle…

“Hey, guys!” And all of a sudden… a picture becomes indistinct…
White coats… and an agitated voice, “Fetch a doctor! He winked!”
Alarms sound. Kisses in stitches on rolling stretchers. She stares.
Returns wink and smile. “Tell ’em don’t mess up my hair.”

…this case was unique, doctors couldn’t understand
why this young guy doesn’t want to leave his dreamland.
This old harridan is a fatal case, yes, but this boy…
His coma seems so artificial. It looks like a ploy!

He just doesn’t want to live… and his happy pale face looks uncanny.
A medical ventilator is switched on. “Hey! I’m home, granny!”
With a crooked smile, a grimace, a hug and a kiss
She says to him, “Finally an end to all of this.”

© All rights reserved 2015