I Will Not Write Your Obituary

Dena M. Daigle presents a powerful remembrance (but not an obituary) of her sister

Phoenix Ascended

Heroin addiction is a destroyer of the human spirit, completely obliterating not only the heart of the addict, but the hearts of those who love them as well.  The harsh reality of this cyclic battle is that some souls simply cannot be saved no matter how hard you try to help them, or how much love you offer them. We can’t walk the path for anyone but ourselves, and there is no way to help someone who doesn’t want to be helped. – Dena M. Daigle

This is a piece dedicated to my sister. I tried with everything in me to make this a spoken word piece, but I could barely get out 5 lines before I broke down in tears. Wherever you are sister, just know that you are loved and I hope you can find yourself one day.

 An Open Letter to My Sister 

I reached out…

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Christine Ray – conversation with a screen

Brave & Reckless

Blank screen
looks reproachfully at me
You are a writer it says
So write
I rub stiff hands
Tender wrists
Sore knees
Knead knots in my back
Feel weight of mental fog
pushing down
suspending my thoughts
like bees in liquid amber
I’m blocked I retort
Too tired
Too much pain
Too fuzzy
Blank screen raises eyebrow
That never stopped you before
Are you having a pity party this morning? it asks
Or are you just avoiding something?
Damn screen
Who asked you anyway?

© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved

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The Texture of Emotion

Jan Malique on emotions and how we experience them


man-981619_1280 vschoenpos, Pixabay

What does an emotion ‘feel’ like? Can you run your fingers over its surface, read its mood, respond appropriately? What does it feel like against your skin? A rush of silk gliding over your inner being and teasing gently. No? Perhaps it’s rather strident and filled with razor sharp edges. Cutting spirits and fragile egos. Letting blood and salt laden tears, kin in many ways.

The textures of emotion can be varied, sometimes taking the form of nature’s bounties; emerald green leaves and calloused bark. Tactile gems infused with meaning and hidden wonders. The inner eye sees and follows the paths laid out for speculation and wonder. Do we marvel at the parade of mood and colour?

Some impulse makes us reach out and run our fingers delicately over these emotions. The tips tingle slightly at the contact with deeply buried artefacts. Being evidence of ancient lives lingering…

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Trump-Putin press conference: the Russia scandal is about elite impunity – Vox

Calico Jack on the (eventually) fatal illusions of impunity

The Psy of Life

Few things feel as good as righteous indignation, moral condemnation, and schadenfreude as an opponent gets her well deserved comeuppance. And, this story certainly feels that way to me. It is an I told you so confirmation that does the battered egos of progressives and liberals in Fascist America some good.

Does anyone remember the opening months of Obama’s administration in 2009 when a lot of his political appointees had to withdraw over tax problems. They went ahead and paid their back taxes whether they were for nannies that they paid under the table

We don’t punish white-collar criminals in this country. Not really, and certainly not by comparison to how we punish poorer, less white people for less severe offenses.

or taxes they hadn’t paid on other transactions. I remember at the time realizing that this wasn’t a problem peculiar to Obama and his appointees. For this many…

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Rule book for living in the world

TheFeatheredSleep – Love inexpressible, blocked


Here’s to the day you said

you could be what she wanted

be fierce enough

closing fear in its locket

lent against old tree bark

when you whispered in her unpierced ear

the words she had been waiting so long to hear

I’m sorry I made you wait

it wasn’t a lack of anything

here I am with my hands full

of every emotion with your name

etched sideways, longways in silver script

you were always the reason for everything

I just didn’t have the language to explain myself

why I lived beneath the earth so long

why I’m a salvaged creature who only

comes out with the moon shine

why I can take you in my arms fiercely and possess

the very air with passion

but I cannot seem to climb out of my own tomb

gather my wits about me long enough

to craft that thing you needed…

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One denomination’s truth is another’s heresy

Beth Caplin considers different ways people read and interpret the Bible.

Sarahbeth Caplin


If you’re familiar with my backstory, you’ve probably heard me say more than once that the Jewish way of studying the Bible is what ended up saving my faith – that is to say, asking hard questions of the text, wrestling with it, and being comfortable with degrees of uncertainty. The Talmud, a compilation of commentary on the Torah, is literally just that: debates, arguments, musings, and conjectures about what a passage might mean, what God did or did not intend, and how to apply (or not apply) certain laws.

Many Christians have issues with this approach. They want the black and white; they don’t like uncertainty. If the text says something happened, it happened, exactly as it is written. Everything is literal, and if you doubt any of it, you have to throw your entire faith away.

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Have I Offended You?

Nicole Lyons asks whether you are offended enough.

The Lithium Chronicles

Have I offended you enough?
Is today the day when you will
type your pedantic verses
on the not quite organic paper
you were lucky enough
to find, buried under last year’s
lonely hearts Valentine card
stock in a flash Friday
two for one sale at Chrissy’s
Cuts and dollar bargain free-for-all?

Have I offended you enough?
Is today the day when you will
gather your witches, clock
the moon and mercury two
days too late and huddle
under the laughing moon
and cast your silly words
and maybe a ripple or two my way?

I hope I have offended you enough.
I hope today is the day when you will
pull your head out of the clouds
and your ass out of the water.
I hope today is the day when you will
greet the anger in your heart
and wring the pain from your soul,
so I can…

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I Knew My Pain – Aurora Phoenix

Aurora Phoenix knows something at Sudden Denouement

A Global Divergent Literary Collective

I knew my pain when it was a screeching
spurting cotton candy carnage
across the feathered heavens
mocking all that is soft and soothing
drawing my gaze
up and up, tearstained
thundering scarlet refrains
reverberating clang of your loss.
I knew my pain when it was a snarling
birthed of my rent ventricles
spewing aortic dirges
feasting on festering anguish
clamorous gluttony
heartache grew fangs
fueled on midnight howling
and my heart gnawed raw itself.
I knew my pain when it was a stinging
clinging needy-puppy to my shins
all scratch and scrape reminders
of the bite that replaced the soul
in the deep chocolate of your iris.
I knew my pain when it was creeping
camouflaged among wistful greening
arisen from the fetid heap
itching a glitch in my hopeful healing
tendrils sneak snake-oil slick
renders my skin hopeless raw
where it lingered
in the…

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Just No

Christine Ray responds to a comfortable ignoramus.

Brave & Reckless

Just noOriginally posted on Blood Into Ink

self-declared “expert”
no md after his famous name
says that he knows my psyche
better than I know it myself
his condescending words
drip off the screen
leaving a grimy ooze in its wake
he calls me
I didn’t need him to write
that he had never walked in my Doc Martins
because if he had
he would know that it takes
guts of fire
spine of steel
bionic knees
teeth that can spit nails
to fight your way back out
after you have fallen into the Pit of Despair
looked into the abyss while it looks back
whispering  your name like a lover
stood at the 13th floor window
and thought how easy it would be to walk out
the opposite of depressed is not happy
the opposite of depressed is being able to take a deep breath

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