HIP DEEP – NaBloPoMo 2016 – 29 of 30

I was listening to the news today, particularly about the people Mr. Trump is bringing into his planned administration, and a quote of uncertain origin came to mind:

“When you’re hip deep in alligators, its hard to remember you came to drain the swamp.”

I’m thinking that holds true even when you think you own the alligators.

And then, I remembered a song about being hip deep in quite another context. Hey, that’s how my strange mind works.


THE CONSERVATIVE ELEMENT? – NaBlopoMo 2016 – 28 of 30

I ran across this quote from George Bernard Shaw and it seems to have interesting resonance in regard to the result of our recent election.

“Marx’s Kapital is not a treatise on socialism; it is a gerrymand against the bourgeoisie. It was supposed to be written for the working class, but the working man respects the bourgeoisie and wants to be a bourgeoisie. Marx never got a hold of him for a moment. It was the revolting sons of the bourgeoisie itself, like myself, that painted the flag red. The middle and upper classes are the revolutionary element in society. The proletariat is the conservative element.”


Just Deserts – Nicole Lyons

More powerful poetry from Nicole.

Sudden Denouement Collective

Just Deserts – Nicole Lyons (The Lithium Chronicles)

If only you would vanish
and stay
hidden away in some desolate place,
buried and long forgotten,
I wouldn’t feel this need
to escape
my own mind
and the memories that lurk within.
They enthrall me
in the sickest way,
these thoughts upon memories
born out of the torment
you fed me.
And sometimes the taste of them,
the regret,
surges back into my mouth,
thick like honey,
to stick to my tongue.
And I would be lying
if I told you
that I didn’t think
about going back
for a second helping

[Nicole Lyons writes for The Lithium Chronicles, as well as being a contributor editor and writer for Sudden Denouement. Her poetry is smart, emotional, and an inspiration to many. She is a friend, a collaborator, and a caring human being who is very giving of herself…

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Your Kid Is A Piece Of Shit And It’s Your Fault


I Ruin Joy

magical-1090663_1920News out of the North Pole suggests that Santa is writing letters to your children to apologize for running out of the “Hatchimal.” This comes as a great disappointment as I bought all the Hatchimals to teach your little brats a lesson.

I spoke to Santa, I told him that children were running rampant, becoming too demanding and in truth, becoming little pieces of shit. He agreed.

Santa agreed.

As I recall, the song goes “He knows if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for goodness sake.”

What happened to that, anyway?

When did we start apologizing to children for disappointing them? It’s a toy. How many times did you miss out on the toy you wanted? Remember the bike you wanted? You didn’t get it, you became a better person. You didn’t throw a tantrum and expect a f*cking apology from Santa, did you?

Why are children…

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The Good Kill

Allie brings Nicole to OCH


by Nicole Lyons

I have dug trenches in
the deepest corners
of my mind
to capture, and keep
you, locked inside
my forgotten playground.
But you storm the chain
link and surge
through razor wire
onto the rapid-fire
battleground of my regrets
and raging
Legs coiled
ready to strike,
I see you war-weary,
to retreat into ditches,
fire and turning
trenches into graves.


Nicole Lyons is the creator of The Lithium Chronicles, the popular Facebook page that brings awareness to mental illness and support to those who need it. She was a columnist for the national online magazine, PsychCentral, and has been a guest contributor to the website The Mighty and The International Bipolar Foundation. She currently has a column, Between Memories and Scars, on Feminine Collective.

Nicole has been a featured writer for the OCH Literary Society, Anti-Heroin Chic, OTV Magazine, and Sudden Denouement, among others…

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Pretty Poison – N.R. Shepherd

N.R. Shepherd writes – amazing

Nicole Lyons




I often ran my hand, down her back,
from her neck, to the tip of her vertebrae.
A smooth perfection, the way the light
glistened off of her scales. I admired
the way she used her tongue; sexy how
it flickered, tasting the air. Constrictive,
how she could disengage her jaws,
and swallow me whole. Docile at times,
basking in the sun, but we both slithered
in darkness. Her blood frigid, she still
needed warmth to survive. I allowed her
to coil up, in my heart, and find refuge
from the elements of the world.
As I knew, nature would eventually
run its’ course………..she struck.
With deep holes in my soul,
and my veins burning,
toxin pumped straight to my heart.
I took the pain, and embraced the burn,
for I too had frosted feelings.
Now all that remains, is crumbs of her skin,
and the scars of…

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