Felis catus

TheFeatheredSleep – Cat Bite


I didn’t care as much as the blood on the snow implied

it was after all just a horror show

you, with your nimble ways of

poking holes in my armor

you, with your kind smile and sharp knife

twisting screw

letting good drain out with bad

till meaning held no color.

I didn’t blame you at first

it’s a fact … some bite

they are taught to by pain

it’s a refuge, a coping mechanism, a

twist and writhe in slim net

of sanity and pathology

that’s all they know

the feral in their fur

if you try to be kind

they will purr

then go ahead and bite you.

I took my bleeding hand

stuck it in my mouth

to prevent saying the things I wanted to

Then I remembered all the little ways

you’d been before, the bare indifference

how I’d tried. Why had I kept on…

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ARC review of History of Present Complaint by HLR

Candice reviews “The History Of The Present Complaint” by HLR


History of Present Complaint (2021)

By WordPress favorite HLR

Published by Close To The Bone Publishing

After a while, when you’ve spent a lot of time reading poetry online, it’s a damn challenge to find that which sticks. When it does, you know you’ve got a keeper.

Before 2019 and the events described therein, I had been exposed to HLR’s work via Hijacked Amygdala, a Writing Collective . All the miscreants of that collective had gone off the deep end in some form or fashion, and without exception, all of them were bloody good writers irrespective of mental status.

Maybe some wouldn’t find that impressive. I thought it was bloody spectacular.

Sure, it’s easy for some ‘nutter’ to write a bunch of crap on a loo roll and call it art, and who knows? They might win the Booker or the Turner, depending on whim.

But true ability isn’t as…

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The Borderline’s Bride

TheFeatheredSleep – Not going back


Nuptial rites at midnight

espousal gently prodded for life

sleep walkers into union they

wake to find promises in dark fulfilled

she wore her matrimony patiently

believing any escape better than remaining still

but time plays tricks like a young child

what we thought then, changing like old glass

will gather yellow reflection within its make

until thrown out for being discolored

or broken half deliberately, the mind thinking it no great loss

is this the fate of age? Bequeath a lessening

value over years, ruin slipping her knot

through stooped shoulder blades with expertise

of well worn harbinger ?

What appeared so intoxicating at 19

shows itself, pickled and cloudy, parody of spectacle

aghast at her own self, the indulgence of emotion

losing reason for the oily climb of bodies urging

their mischief upon the other with that slick beat of youth

no surely not, people cannot

be this…

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The Shape of Water

Christine Ray – Boundaries Dissolve

Brave & Reckless

we do not need
we do not need
a shared
written language
we have eyes that
truly see
lips that speak
a common tongue
shared palate
for the aroma
the taste
of salt that glitters
on each other’s skin
when we flow like silk
against each other
and boundaries dissolve
like sea foam
at dawn

© 2018 Revised 2021 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved

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HASTY – A time gone by


I loved the ‘80s. So many cool memories. Music made life better in so many ways. I mean…

You could walk like an Egyptian, dance with somebody that loved you, do the Safety Dance, or you could just Beat it.

In the ‘80s you could spin somebody round… like a record, walk this way, pour some sugar on someone, hit someone with your best shot, blind someone with science, dance with yourself, or be addicted to love.

It was a time when girls just wanted to have fun and we were all just livin on a prayer. When we weren’t having a total eclipse of the heart we were hungry like the wolf. We would go from never gonna give you up to another one bites the dust. From what’s love got to do with it to love shack.

Huey Lewis believed in the power of love and Foreigner wanted…

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Unhappy Anniversary: Trayvon Martin Day, 2021

Calico Jack – An Anniversary

The Psy of Life

Today is Friday 26 February 2021. It is the anniversary of Trayvon Martin’s death. He was shot to death by George Zimmerman on this day in 2012 nine years ago. It is a confusing case fraught with contradictions and uncertainty. It was the beginnings of the social movement that later became Black Lives Matter.

The uncertainty stems from the testimony of the only witness to the entire evening, the shooter. Trayvon couldn’t testify. He was dead.

Here’s the only thing that is certain about the evening: When the shooter called into the police dispatcher that he had seen a suspicious person in the neighborhood he was explicitly told not to exit his vehicle. He exited his vehicle and the confrontation ensued. If it weren’t for Zimmerman disobedience, Trayvon Martin would very likely still be alive today.

Zimmerman precipitated the confrontation. He was armed.

It didn’t have to turn out…

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Christine Ray – Pursued

Brave & Reckless

swimming hard
against the current
in choppy
white surf
running barefoot
in cold wet sand
legs straining
but afraid
to stop
to breathe
what demons
will catch me
grasp my shoulders
with taloned claws
if I risk rest?
true danger
true threat
comes from within
not without
pangs of melancholy
steel gray clouds
move in quickly
become sleet
on exposed skin
when I invite silence
invite stillness
leave me clutching
my heart
with empty hands
futile effort
to protect
delicate tissue
from a thousand
stinging needles
of senseless longing
for a past I never had
future selves
I will never be

© 2017 Revised 2021 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved

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HASTY – A different point of view


“The fact that we live at the bottom of a deep gravity well, on the surface of a gas covered planet going around a nuclear fireball 90 million miles away and think this to be normal is obviously some indication of how skewed our perspective tends to be.” ~ Douglas Adams

Perspective is something a creative mind is always seeking. It can be crazy and reality all at once. It can be ugly and beautiful. The glass can be half empty, half full, or it can be as George Carlin once said too big.

I have met people who have rigid perspectives. They are very black and white. They rarely understand things unless they experience those things themselves. They have a hard time understanding different points of view. They are quick to make assumptions and act on them as factual or truthful.

In my opinion you can train yourself to…

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reminding themselves they can still fly

TheFeatheredSleep – A reminder, in spite of it all


Only so much can be said of birds, or landscapes

yet grief? Grief is a world incapsulated in a tear

held to the sun and magnified, its kaleidoscope of color

without end

and while you may see me sitting at this table

with dried flowers catching wan Winter sun

my face a careful study of emotion beneath surface

I am actually at this very moment

lying on the unwashed floor

feeling cold tile invade my pores

just like the virus who crept into my stomach

changing everything like zealous house cleaner

see, on the floor I can curl up like I did as a child

pretend I am a dragon again, where ageing and its horrors

or just the spite of unbidden sickness

will not come for me, because I am no longer real.

The sun light will fade and with it, shadows come

reminders of our ephemerality

a dance…

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