Author: Alfonso Colasuonno

Welcome to your new artistic fix.

Poetic Thoughts of a Rebel, by Shawn Hudson [Poetic Thoughts #6]

After a brief hiatus I am back with another edition of Poetic Thoughts. I want to give you all a little insight into the making of my latest project “Poetic Thoughts of a Rebel” and what it’s about. You see I’m an author and poet along with being a contributor for Beautiful Losers Magazine. I’m…
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Of Gas and Vapor, by Marissa Ahmadkhani

Caged canaries used to be taken down, deep into the mines—as early warning signs for deadly leaks of gas and vapor. And I guess there were warning signs of our own ochre death. Of our bodies separated by a noxious fog and our two hearts slowing. I would have known if I had listened. Listened…
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Communication Breakdown Over the Decades or…Have You Become an “Ex” via Text?, by Gavin Lakin

The Internet is the most important single development in the history of human communication since the invention of call waiting. -Dave Barry A rotary phone call dialed late in the evening, a handwritten note left on the nightstand, a tear-stained letter sent via U.S. Mail, a face-to-face conversation where, sadly, it all slipped away in…
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I collect myself, by Tawnya Renelle

in fingernail clippings curly red pubic hair in the smell of socks bobby pins in the carpet in popped zits stacks of journals in skin tattooed I collect myself in case nobody else does   Tawnya Renelle is a poet from Bellingham, WA. She completed a MFA in Creative Writing from Goddard College and is…
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Shadows At Night, by Natalie Crick

Shadows dance: The shape of your ghost A pornography of orchids, Soft, quiet as new snow. Night fulls. Our bodies grow limbs. They rise and sink, Feeling for a heartbeat. Longing, melting Like dead bees pouring From a smoking hive. Tulip petals close. The stars will not hold back. They starve for light. Moon dreams…
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Rezanoff Drive, by Glenn Nelson

I can no longer remember certain things about the past. Faces dissolve…. A gentle touch… gone… like a candle blown out by the wind. There are still shapes in the fog…. A sort of lingering form in the darkness. I can still remember the disjointed rattling of the el train as it passes by my…
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Salem Witch Trials Increase and Cotton Mather

Mercy Riot, by Kelly Grieve [Catechize #8]

In the late 1600’s, a young girl, not older than 12, lived at home with her family in Maine. They were suddenly attacked one day by the Wabanaki Indians and most were slaughtered with the exceptions of the young girl and a sibling, whom she was parted from. The girl was then taken into the…
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Two Poems, by Gale Acuff

Delilah and Samson Man, do I love my wife since she shaved her head. And I mean bald, as if it never was intended to bear hair. I like sports so she’s just about any ball I can think of–billiard, bowling, bearing, BB. One night I dared her to do it and she did. It…
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Small Spring on the Property, by Martina Reisz Newberry

My friend, Hazel, sat on a yellow plastic chair outside her trailer in Bentonia, Mississippi on an acre of land owned by a great-uncle who let her fix up the old trailer and live in it for free so she could live protected, hidden from her ex who threatened to kill her if he ever…
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Should Poetry Slam Competitions Be Televised? by Shawn Hudson [Poetic Thoughts #5]

Poetry slams are powerful events to attend and be a part of if you’re into hearing people wax poetic in an aggressive fashion. You might even witness the next Kai Davis or Malcolm London in the making right in front of you without even realizing it. Imagine if everyone around the world could witness live…
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