cyberthuggian

when the morning comes
i’ll yearn for transcendence again
tho’ the days keep piling all around
but before i know it i’ll be choking on fire
the fulsome hate behind your words

we’re not the object of your resentment
your feelings are way too big for our insides
we’re wayfaring strangers, not obliging quintains
so tilt at yourself please and leave us alone
don’t make us breach like worn out wineskins

is this what you want, to slut shame us?
fine, if it helps then you’re the higher one
and we are the weak, tawdry, ignoble
so when the morning comes you’ll have won
and i’m sure this knowledge will have warmed your bed

 

by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2016

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

GUEST POST // Tessellate by Obsidian Visionary

Change your very being to blend in
Not be colorful while the rest have pale skin
Ignore the crow’s calling to sleep with doves
Maybe then you will find true love.

Love of being accepted into to the idea of Propriety,
Bearing the dark mark of a disheveled society
Vanish into the constant pattern of in-numerous nobody’s
Trapped in the array, mind fervently fuzzy.

Cut the sides, smooth the edges
To fit right in, resignation you must pledge.
The fear of being an outcast far too great
Sink into the mould as triangles tessellate.

Is this the wondrous utopia you had dreamt ?
An atrocious life where you are unnaturally bent.
Maybe you were never meant to fit the “mould”
But instead to be your true motley of silver and gold.

 

by OBSIDIAN VISIONARY
© All rights reserved 2015

GUEST POST // The Comfort of a Warm Heart by Poetic Depression

My cold-blooded and weeping heart
pressed against my chest, hard
Feelings intertwined with quilt
An empty glass never filled

Lose me once and I’ll never return
I need you for longer than now
It looks like I’m not the only one that still has to learn.

vaguely I remember her
A face beautiful, like her
personality
her attractive individuality.

She sat alone on the stairs of the church closed down
For no one believed in God
Everyone had their reasons she tought.
But she knew she was lying

and I walked by
Offered her the comfort of my warm home
I told her not to be scared
I told her that she didn’t have to be alone

and I offered her some tea
“with sugar” she pleased
I smiled and poured it in
The start of a beautiful sin.

And we did not kiss
and we did not touch
we just talked the night away
let our problems astray

Then she left me
and never returned
bound to find her
but i had learned

I was alone

sitting on the stairs of the closed down church
Something hard hit my back
It was the door
opened
by a woman in that crack
It was her
Tea with sugar?
she asked.

 

by POETIC DEPRESSION
© All rights reserved 2015

Oops!… We Did It Again (Preparations for spring)

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