when I tasted
the ground
my world
was no longer
for what I had found
was stronger than death
when my face
grazed the earth
my sight
torn right from me
I gazed at my worth
were life not a freedom
the crashing of bones
knees, elbows, and skull
would fall into silence
upon urgent moment
the brashness of one
fleeing from the lull
appallingly useless
for all, consequent

“hey you…”

“posturing is pointless
when you simply need a hug

to deny one’s own
is to deprive
that of others

the terrible fragility of every facet
of our existence
must always be considered

i know i could use a hug
and so could you

the truth of love is universal

why am i still talking?”

shuts up and hugs you


to the hungry umbrage
spindly wraiths
spill ruination
arms athwart
absorb nullity
boots and RIFs
soon disavowed

whistling timbres
so precise
held brimstone fists stripped
knuckled white
waried faith
lest bullets showered
dulled the Duster pastorales

plucked like florets
bare and breathless
strafing nightly
saw them felled
prowess at imperil’s onset
sweat poured down
a poor man’s brow
loud as telegraphed
like wingless flies

birds took to the sky
in errant
bursts of aril
none were spared
crimson horrors
void of rinsing
from the hands
of shellshocked minds

blind are days
since hell became us
land of freedom
man as god
sadist thieves
left grief besotted
rotting leaves
pinned to dead air

Pasting the Past Into the Present

a poem is but
a restive cluster
onto pages
with our frantic
fears conspicuously
calling out
for rescue

meticulously poring through
decrepit thoughts
of hoarded visions
kiss to tryst
to triste
in a blissful
before sediment
comes nigh
where sighs undress
our destitute descries

calculated coalescence
pandering our pride’s
priviest imprints
curling chips of paint
exposing throes
of yesterdays

sacred cruxes
born before
our burgeoning bereavement
from whence all
embarking destined
for a distant hearken
poised to be
impartially presented
in pretentiously penned
to pierce our peers
to sate this
untold inquisition



ere i walked the shadows
of a shameless life eschewed
i sometimes talked for hours
on the telephone
’tis true

attending to the inbox
which would hold my correspondence
until one day i stopped
having become too despondent

seven years have come and gone
and still i have not looked
nor listened to my messages
not even on facebook

this plague pervades
most every aspect
of my adult years
i since have lost the respect
of my family and peers

for they can’t see the reasons
nor the logic of my plight
its tragedy is lost
amid the inference of their sleight

presuming that it must be
that they’ve somehow drawn my ire
some say i’m maladjusted
others think i have retired

i cannot help but panic
upon hearing rings and tones
instilling in me frantic feelings
reeling in my home

truth be told i have disabled
every last alarm
and push notification
for they only cause me harm

and should you try to reach out
with an intention to touch
you’ll not invade this redoubt
that has long since been my crutch

and if you are to know me
then you first must understand
even if you are the homie
you can talk to your own hand


haunting words from Ryan Kelton

The Poetry of Ryan Kelton

he has forgotten
himself again,

as morning comes
devoid of memories.

grey sunlight
casts a pallor

over the silent
room, contained

of lost thoughts
that dissipate

with the approach
of another day.

eyelids will lift,
and he will

behold the

of raw


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Monarch Sky

i thought
that you could see me
through the lens
which rend your heart

the foment
of foreboding heed
that sought
to play your part

with every waning
flaxen tide
thus waxing
unquashed tears
of unseen sorrows
as they fall
into arrears

this blood yields not
to yarrow
‘neath the fields
of monarch sky

the piercing
of your arrow’s wound
seals fast
our love’s demise

Sudden Denouement/Secret First Draft Divergent Literature Writing Contest

Sudden Denouement Literary Collective

Sudden Denouement Literary Collective and Secret First Draft are holding a joint Writing Contest in the month of March to elicit new writers for the Collective.

Writing Prompt: March Madness

Unpublished/Original work

Each entry should be more than 50 words but less than 500

Each writer may submit 1 to 3 (maximum) pieces of writing for consideration

Submissions will be accepted: 3/1/2017 through 3/31/2017

Full prize information to be announced soon!

1st Place Winner will be granted membership in the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective

2nd, 3rd and 4th Place Runners-ups will be granted membership in the Secret First Draft Collective.

Send your submissions with your name, your pen name (if applicable), the address for your blog and a short biography (1 to 3 sentences to): Suddendenouement@gmail.com

The Sudden Denouement Literary Collective and its sister sites Secret First Draft and The Whisper and The Roar are forums for divergent literature that we hope…

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Petaled Trails

i walked
a lone procession

in the blossoming
wake of a cherry
bloom daydream

in thought
as threnodies
cried peals
of Zeus’wrath

in a gaze

counting down
each drowning

tread upon
tremulant flesh
yet shone anew

as our minds
fell behind
racing hearts

to bridge
the frigid waters

on that day
when i long held

as the subtle sky
with your song

My ~Friend~

oh look!
a pretty* girl

don’t assume so much

my ~friend~

why not instead
show respect
and treat her
like a human being

use your brain**

**the one in your head

think of her experience
endlessly accosted
by lotharios
on dalliance

staunchly objects
to your crass

there is yet a bus
at the local station

destination: evolution
join the ranks
of humankind

should you choose
to thus forgo
please know
you are no friend
of mine

Whatever I Have Known

i have known

in thought
through observation

has trickled
through the
hollow holes

that hearken
solstice winds

in shapes
and sounds
from profound
to mundane

their address

like pleasantries
pastime purpose

with serpent’s tongue

through absent blessings
fed to flames
then cleft in twain

on the overhung edge
of our sanity

modern love

a tragic isolation beautifully expressed by Ryan Kelton

The Poetry of Ryan Kelton

would it be so bad,
he asks himself
on another night
spent like a thousand
nights before,

to be alone,
to lock oneself away
from a world
full of cuts and bruises;
thorns and thistles–

all the hit and runs
of modern love,
they are meaningless
in the end; they amount
to nothing.

tonight, the stars
shine brilliantly
over a city
full of people
with hollow chests;

they sit low
in the sky like fruit–
you could almost
reach up
and grab them

to bring them down
to fill the hole
in your chest
where your heart
once was–

but all
you get
are shadows filled
with what was,
and is lost.


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Beautifully composed uncertainty from the wonderful Lois E. Linkens

lois e. linkens


there sits the cornerstone.
in the summer,
its almost entirely swamped by weeds.
the autumn winds
see them off,
and golden leaves tumble over dry rock
like acrobats
in a dried-out circus.
the winter frost crackles over,
and melts in the icy midday sun –
but nobody campaigns.
springtime summons
her clearest skies,
breathing new warmth
into the frozen stone.
i wait for the first daisy,
and smile
when it sprouts.
i know the first daisy will come,
it always does.
but with you –
with you, i do not know.
yet still, i wait.

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Love Most Valid

arid mist
of rhapsodic

long sought
to dismantle
the essence
only to reveal
its Gestalt

attenuous tenets
composed of pretense

to valence

but love validates
through open commune
of fluid mind

with trust
respect and
shared silence

nascent intimacy
airs triumphant

while astute observation
inherently deferent

for these are the matters
of consequence revered

Kittens Born Upon My Chest – Part One


Luna was a neurotic cat. A stunning, graceful, talkative, angling, gorgeous, Russian Blue, neurotic cat. She was my first cat. Not accounting for the numerous kittens any one of us had brought home with the intent of them becoming a part of our dysfunctional family (if you’ll pardon the redundancy). Only to have several weeks or so go by until one day my mother would announce that it wasn’t working out as she had hoped so she had to “give it back”. It wasn’t until years later in the most tragic foreshadowing of the century did we come to learn what she really meant by her ambiguous words. To my utter horror and dismay, it turned out she would callously drive these poor little innocent kittens out to some remote spot where she felt they would no longer be any trouble to her and leave them to fend for themselves. Heartlessly abandoning them without even so much as a second thought. This would be but one of an endless array of abusive horrors inflicted upon the innocent by my megalomaniacal mother’s hand. But for now, I can only digress…

Me & Luna Day One
Mira & Luna Day One

Luna was our first cat together. After having been a couple for about a year and a half we knew we wanted to bring a cat into our family in spite of the fact that we were not living together at that time. It was on a typically sunny southern California day that we randomly walked into the pet store after shopping at the neighboring record shop. Situated near the entrance, was a large birdcage in which two ridiculously adorable kittens were playing with one another. Initially, we had found ourselves drawn to the black and tan striped male as he seemed vigorous and full of life whereas the other kitten was a female with a plain gray coat and seemed very timid. Though we hadn’t planned it, we agreed that it was time to become kitty parents. We had decided to go with the male but as we were just about to ask for help we noticed that the reason the female seemed so timid was because the male was incessantly tormenting her with brutal kitten ferocity. We resolved that we would have to rescue this poor girl from her abuser. This was the day we met Luna.



Once we had gotten her home and away from mister tyrannical kitty, Luna’s adorably unique personality began to flourish. To this day I have yet to encounter another animal as vocally expressive or with as vast a range of communicative expression. She would literally hold complex conversations with you and she made no qualms about stating her demands. One of her first nicknames was “angles” as she would relentlessly try to sneak in from the last direction you’d be keeping an eye on when eating any food which she so hotly pursued.


We thought it would be best to wait to have Luna spayed until she was closer to her “teens” or young adulthood. Shortly before we were planning on taking her to the veterinarian she somehow magically escaped our fastidiously tended sentry and was gone like the wind. This was a devastating period that saw Mira and I tearfully posting lost cat flyers all around our neighborhood and beyond. Just when we thought Luna was gone forever after a week-and-a-half of wandering in search of her, Luna just casually appeared out of nowhere and resumed her routine without falter. Little did we know the true reason behind her sojourn.


Over the course of the next few weeks, Luna began eating a lot more food and gaining weight. It took us longer than it should have to realize she had become pregnant. Luckily, Mira, being of keen mind, had the foresight to research the possible situations that might arise when an extremely neurotic cat is giving birth. Using the information she had found, Mira prepared a birthing kit in preparation for the big event. This included sterile scissors for cutting the umbilical cords, dental floss to then tie off the umbilical cords, plenty of clean towels and warm washcloths to clean the newborn kittens off with. Also, providing a comforting area in which to give birth. Mira had read that there are some cases in which the neurotic mother can become confused, aloof, or in extreme cases, possibly harm her kittens.

When the moment finally arrived, Mira’s insights paid off, as Luna was completely terrified and confused as to what could have possibly been taking place with her body and the goopy little miau machines that kept coming out of her. Mira and I fully assisted in every aspect of the births. One by one we tore open the birth sacs, snipped the cords, tied them off, and cleaned them up. All the while comforting Luna, who had placed her complete trust in us.

baby-kitts-first-batch-first-battle                          copy-of-baby-kitts-first-batch-sooo-tinybaby-kitts-first-batch-nurse-luna1-2

After the extremely traumatic event there ended up being five kittens. Two boys and three girls, one of whom was a runt. We named them Tiberius after captain Kirk, Linnell after John Linnell of TMBG, Ash due to her coloring and after Ash from Evil Dead, Rinoa after the character in Final Fantasy VIII, and Pixie since she was the tiny runt who we would ultimately always call Wettles, due to the odd chronic moisture issue she had during kittenhood. They were the fucking dorbsest things that ever existed and we had no intention of splitting up the family…

They chose the top shelf of the closet as their spot
Linnell Just Hangin’ Out

To Be Continued…

Due Decorum

is it so uncouth to ask
for thee to stay thy tongue
and not disturb the black damask
enshrouding ablutions
for there exists no merit
to be found in such affronts
doth no one wish to hear it
underground nor in the sun
have we lost all decorum
at the cost of decency
to air in public forum
matters begging secrecy
instead we see the plague
of people primitively prone
to posting private pictures
posing on porcelain thrones!
pray not let us devolve
into unsavory savants
with thoughts left to revolve
around our basest needs and wants
one mustn’t attend charm school
to find value in mystique
we’ve no need to defend fools
when they’ve failed to be discreet
thus, i submit we gather
every vulgar philistine
and banish them to exile
to the isle of shrillest screams
for it is of their own accord
to wax on chamber pots
therefore we dare not spare the horde
an expeditious plot
of funerary provenance
for actions crude and crass
for devotees of elegance
i speak on your behalf

Promised Hours

why is it
that only upon leaving
do you voice

fleeting amid
and sudden
things to do

promised hours
in a flash
of wistful
alley light

your words
as token trials of hope
since lost

hanging in denial
are faded smiles
and fusty
mothballed coats

in the closet
strung like latent
and long forgotten

Out of Sight…

spiders get around most freely
out of sight and out of mind
fiendishly partaking in some really
questionable crimes
some are stealing errant crumbs
while others might be playing dumb
some I’ve heard meticulously
fuss over cleaning their guns
why must they be up to no good
can’t we all just get along
it just seems odd that they should
keep trying to swipe hits from my bong
weird thing is when they become stoned
spiders have a gay old time
watching episodes of star trek
golden girls and classic vines
look out though, for when their munchies hit
they take no prisoners
trust, you would prefer not to
like Bartleby the scrivener
oh my god they’re so obsessed
with watching me all night and day
every time i start to undress
i hear every word they say
maybe if they had some business
of their own i could relax
sadly it would seem their interest
is quite honed in on my back
what i mean to say is my bum
boy, they just can’t get enough
then again, it’s kissed by the sun
chiseled, and bulbously buff
countless times have i looked up
to find a spider mid-descent
typically, they hover just
to read facebook and make comments
privacy is really just a quaint notion
it’s sad to say
for spiders reign ubiquitous
over each moment, night or day
even if they have intentions
of becoming my best friend
they might at least try to mention
this to somehow make amends
as it stands i swear on my life
they won’t rest until i’m dead
how else did my set of steak knives
wind up underneath the shed
don’t you for one second think
i don’t know of their secret club
i still receive the weekly e-mail
some of which i truly love
judging from the things i’ve read
we’d hit it off quite famously
they seem to dig the talks on TED
almost just as much as me
if i wasn’t so damn shy
perhaps i could initiate
but to them, I am just a fly
awaiting on a silken fate
they’re not like their creepy cousins
building nests from human hair
spiders spin a lustrous gossamer
to weave their webbed lair
sure, at times they might get peeved
and inflict a most painful bite
this is how most spiders grieve
their spouse you swallowed just last night
follow my advice and keep that
gaping orifice shut well
you don’t want to hear all of the stories
that I have to tell
please just feel their fuzzy fur
they’re cuddly like a teddy bear
spiders rock, you must concur
you’d better, for they’re everywhere

Rant On Usurped Offense

There is no merit in insulting others. We have no need for hurtful words, harmful thoughts, and vulgar behavior. Disrespect does not gain the respect of those who would be respectable. For every person that our words and actions victimize unwittingly or otherwise causes our consciences to devolve until we have devised our own demise. We would do best to just confess and take responsibility for our own past including every prior indiscretion. For until we do so, we are incapable of learning the lessons necessary for us to further evolve. It matters not, the company in which we feel free to thusly reveal the horrors that our hearts conceal for there is no possible way of ever knowing the personal experience of those around us which is no less real. Regardless of how well we may think we truly know them. We cannot afford to risk the pain our carelessness inflicts upon the innocent already victimized by flagrant negligence. Lest we are compliant as petulantly defiant accomplices appearing as though tyrants. Abusive words like “slut”, “faggot”, “fat”, and “ugly”, “stupid”, “bitch”, “retarded”, “dumpy”, “sloppy seconds”, “homo”, “freak”, “loser”, “sissy”, “pussy”, “weakling”, referencing things negative by saying that they’re “gay”, and generalizing specific groups from which to draw negative comparison, all of these insidiously vicious sayings cause hurt even if you’re ~just playing~ or ~just kidding~. Such offenses cannot be excused as though unwitting. Be the person standing tall who speaks up for both one and all instead of slandering these victims leaving them to take the fall. When you spew out words like “whore” you open up Pandora’s box for chances are by all accounts that someone amid every crowd has suffered from a horrid fate of which they cannot yet relate. Thier trauma once again is visited upon them distancing them further still as you insist it’s your ~free will~ and that they should perhaps just ~chill~. Well, victims more than deserve freedom, but instead, they’re shirked and beaten. Human beings perpetually defeated by a society so utterly unfathomably heedless. Their self-denounced abusers asserting with such emphasis their so-called ”rights” which they imagine to exist which tragically intend to place their offenses on those who have in fact suffered by their offenses. As though somehow it were a choice to have had lived through tragic fates that innately instill horrific post-traumatic feelings fraught with fear, anxiety, unspoken pains we cannot see, suicidal thoughts now more distraught and all of this for what? So you can validate your selfishness by disregarding poignant pleas from broken-hearted victims who now stand to suffer ceaselessly as they traverse this wretched, thoughtless universe which treats the victims as the curse and celebrates abusive verse? So you can feel so free to recklessly impose your putrid ignorance like pestilence you seem so curiously invested in? As if you’re being bested by the simplest of requests as if it inflicts any stress comparable to the victim’s duress upon the advent of associative anguish by abuse-inflicted reflex? I truly hope that your own ego is not such that you would forgo even basic kindness and concern for those who you might not know for the sake of something so absurd insisting these abusive words should thus be heard by victims already dejected and unnerved presuming that your right to speak should somehow more deserve protection than the human beings, most of whom would never cause a scene instead they keep their pain inside while you would flaunt your shameful pride. My friend, you need to get a clue this issue isn’t about you. I beg thee, please get over yourself and think for once of someone else. Don’t tread upon the mental health of victims trapped in private hell. Dare not assume to know so well the truths of which most never tell precisely for the reasons that you seem to be so much compelled to stand here and defend until the very death with all your will while victims still are made anew but all you can think of is YOU. If only you would understand these victims are your fellow man let me restate that, ALL WOMEN and since you seem unable to consider things in terms I speak perhaps were you able to see these victims are as close to thee indeed of your own family and all your friends who plainly see your indifference to silent pleas from all the pain they’ve suffered through including that since caused by you on more than one occasion too. But with your callous caustic mouth and disregard, you’ve voiced aloud the pain that they must always bear has now become a source of shame which further stifles any hope for their plight ever to be spoken which in turn allows for the abuse they’ve suffered to persist perpetually until they’ve broken.. And for now which you have as much as acted as a type of willful co-conspirator. If you figure this to make them somehow less then let us put it in your terms so you can be the bigger person which you then can prove by showing them that you refuse to treat them like they’re worthless. Society has ever shown that pain and suffering not known to others is routinely thrown aside its victims left alone. If we refuse to stand up tall while watching others take the fall we truly have forsaken all and yet we dare to have such gall to act as though we’ve any merit whilst diminishing the spirit of the hurt whilst acting as though we ourselves are bold and fearless. HEAR THIS! If you’re to know of courage, it won’t come from the disparaging of those who’ve bravely faced such horror life cannot replace and yet you wear upon your face a smirk so smug of such disgrace. Instead of wasting so much time perfecting mindless schoolyard rhymes that aim to somehow thus define your status in the social climb. It’s best if you perhaps would try to rise above the bottom line and speak to others, words with kindness in your heart not by design nor pantomiming words so cruel that leave you looking like the fool who disregards the circumstance of extrinsic experience. Of these pleas do I grow weary for they seem to breed contrary feelings from the heartless egos people cannot seem to let go. Understand that any time you place regard for others behind your own arbitrary wants and then proceed to poke and taunt them it will only ever serve to reveal your own heart perverted when such pain can be averted you choose simply to desert them. The courtesy of politesse is no longer of interest for if you hear these words and balk then i insist, you must fuck off!