I remember what I dream

I remember what I dreamt
I dreamt what I wanted to be
I ask myself who I am and why
Am I a full time dreamer boy
Dream is mystery 
The mystery is in life
Life is itself a mystery 
I dream what I remembered 
I Remember, I remember
I dream, I dream all day long
I know what is dream
I know who I am
I am a freewill agent of nature
I live in my dream
I dream what I can
I remember what I dream.

~Money is the root of evil~

He is the Devil's tool,
Like when Eve was fooled
purchasing Death with an apple,
and breaking ground for thorns 
and thistles 
He is an empty space
in the heart of Judas Iscariot,
whose longing will never be
           satisfied.


He holds grudge against
peace and love,
but yet promises Heaven and Earth;
He speaks of himself as the greatest treasure.
In his bosom is an abyss of
pleasure,
can you decipher his cunning
desires?

He led Joseph into slavery,
Sending the Israelites into
       captivity
like a bird trapped in a cage.
He is a wolf in lamb's skin,
whose embrace is a snare of 
brokenness and pain.

A Delilah of corruption and
frustration,
whose kiss breaks down
even the palace of
King Solomon.

Struggling with Uncertainty

The shadows on my bedroom wall are growing dark and long.
I hear the voices rise and fall, their language harsh and strong.
Do they know I can hear their fight? Maybe they just don't care
that their child is locked in fright, heart pounding in both ears
With commotion in the mind.

Someone standing at the mouth had
the idea to enter. To go further
than light or language could
go. As they followed
the idea, light and language followed

like two wolves—panting, hearing themselves
panting. A shapeless scent
in the damp air …
Keep going, the idea said.

The wild-
life seemed wild and alive, moving
when someone moved, casting their shadows
on the shadows stretching
in every direction. Keep going,
The truth about this struggle
Is merely to survive
From the moment you arrive
In birth, to the end of death

In Case You Thought Being a Creator Was Easy


Giving everything for the sake of your art

Requires a vulnerability and rawness

That tears you up inside

The misconception is you’ll always love what you do


When the truth is

A lot of the time you’ll fucking hate it


Who’d willingly cut themself open and pour themselves out?

Sharing what’s in your heart and mind with the masses

Leaving yourself open to critics and scrutiny

Who often have no idea what they’re talking about, by the way,

Deciding if you’re Good Enough


An arbitrary decision that determines

If you’re choosing between rent and food this month

Or can pay for both, and maybe other bills


And the danger of Making It in your chosen scene?

If you cater to the masses, you risk becoming beige

A mediocre shell of your former brilliance

Kissing ass, bending over, and down on your knees


The two hardest things about being in the arts:

Giving everything you have for your passion, and

Having the strength of conviction to stay true to yourself

Skaja Evens is a writer and artist living in Southeast Virginia. She runs It Takes All Kinds, a litzine published by Mōtus Audāx Press. Her work has been published in Spillwords Press, The Dope Fiend Daily, and The Rye Whiskey Review.

Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand. And Eternity in an hour. — William Blake

This month, our contributors dig deep within themselves or into the details of their craft in order to understand and explore larger themes.

Tohm Bakelas travels through cities with old buildings weathered by time. He’s a hardworking artist in proudly workaday cities.

Tony Brewer digs into ordinary life: houseplants, dead batteries, date night in a small town, to show that these things matter and can be a jumping off point for thought.

Michael Todd Steffen’s piece echoes centuries of literary history in the whir of a laundromat, while Jim Meirose’s wordy mix evokes the drama of brass music. Joshua Martin breaks up words, evokes emerging oblivion, like waves crashing at sea, and Sayani Mukherjee’s multiple metaphorical vocalists come together in unison for peace.

Mark Young crafts poems through a technical process that each have an element of surprise encounter. Andrew Cyril MacDonald’s work looks at what comes after the encounter, the fading embers of passion and connection.

Sara Sims’ ekphrastic poetry inspired by public sculpture art highlights the power of communication and understanding.

Dana Kinsey explores and highlights the creative processes of raising children, teaching, and writing through a surfeit of clever words. Sarvinozkhon Olimova celebrates being true to the creative process.

John Tustin illuminates the preciousness and the struggle of relationships, battered by outside forces of conflict and racism. Mohinur Askarova relishes the energy of young love while Ilyosova Zukhraxon communicates love and respect in a poignant piece about her mom.

John Edward Culp highlights the need to stop and step back from one’s ego at times to have an authentic experience beyond oneself.

Ridwanullah Solahudeen links faith and desire in a paean to spiritual love, while Michael Robinson reflects on the spiritual sustenance he receives through the compassion of Jesus. Ike Boat shares highlights of his broadcasting career amplifying messages of faith, while Chimezie Ihekuna admonishes us to remember the meaning of Christmas throughout the year.

Amuda Abbas Oluwadamilola describes his poem as reflecting how “religion is an opiate” in his country. While a comment on the specific dynamic where he lives, the piece seems to reflect the broader tension between faith that inspires and liberates and beliefs that become a comfortable distraction from important work.

Gabriel T. Saah writes of the political and human struggle in his home country of Liberia through the metaphor of a single injured woman, while Patricia Doyne uses the language of children’s books to critique dangerous immaturity in adult leaders. Awodele Habeeb renders violence and oppression through the metaphor of wolves, while Mahbub relates the comfort found in personal relationships in a world afire on many levels.

Z.I. Mahmud addresses themes of belonging and migration in his essay on Tennessee Williams’ play A Streetcar named Desire. He seems to have sympathy for an unusual character who is removed from the drama’s everyday world and lives within her own imagination.

Ilyosova Fatimakhon knows where she belongs, as she exults in both her native Uzbekistan and in the joy of reading.

Christopher Bernard contributes a piece on the “opposite of politics” as other writers turn towards personal matters of the heart.

Aeesha Abdullahi Alhaji reflects on loneliness, being cast out of relationships.

J.J. Campbell speaks to the quiet despair of aging and loneliness, while Ian Copestick offers up humorous takes on what we value in people and how and why we compare ourselves to others.

Hannah Greenberg shares a fresh set of her nature scenes, still and tranquil water and lily pads while Shakzoda Kodirova sends us an ode to the beauty of a rose.

We hope that you enjoy each submission like the petals of Kodirova’s rose, considering each piece and leaving comments and thoughts for the creators. Thank you for participating in our literary community.

Musings Of A Loner
               By
     Aeesha Abdullahi Alhaji



  submersed into husky lines—hypnotised by nature exuberance, 
 

  a misfit—growing on parallel lines, ageless, awaiting a homecoming, 

   
  un[scathed], to the truth, my existence a bane of contention,
    
     ~ousted from a love quadraple~
  
   made my reign obsolete—happiness was not meant for (me).