Wednesday, April 21, 2010


Spare me sick animals just a little longer

Spare me sick animals while I get stronger

Drooping mandarins with grubby jaws

Middle class wankers pretending to be poor

Fat slag wasters of various descriptions

Prissy Miss Perfects – perfume nickers

Sly promptings from former virgins

All you really need is a good plastic surgeon

Fakes falsely worried cos baby's pissed

All I want now is Love and Mint Juleps

BIO Chris Savage King is a writer and performer. She is author of the Award Winning What/So What? (ICA/Radio Four) and a novel Do What You Want. She also sings, has worked extensively in prisons, and has attempted theatre.


How Fate dreams to subdue me.

Her Pale blue green dactyls

Sweeping the sweat of her laboring

From her pious brow

Her effort strained against

Other forces prevailing to

Construct my end their way.

Oh, Fate - beautiful colossus

Harpy of misery and ruin.

Your eyes gleam ferocity

Jealous of talents made mortal

Ruinous of the fleshy beings-

You steal their glory short.

Sheer robes and veils of dreams

Mask your true form, Fate.

Deamoness of false hopes and pride.

Gleefully smiting down the wouldbe's

Would without your ruin

Be evermore remembered mythic forms

Will now lay forgotten

To all, and none.

That is the reward you spin, Fate,

How cruel you are.

Cutting Destiny's cord

Letting the days die unwon.

BIO Crystal Chambers-has managed to squeeze at least three lifetimes into her 39 years. From being a florist to a professional cyclist and athletic coach and, now, realizing her lifelong dream of being a writer. She’s written poetry since adolescence, moving into writing training articles and being published in the annual Authors of Tomorrow. Crystal occasionally fights town hall with fiery speeches (and wins). Crystal is thrilled to be a contributing writer for Bel Air Magazine, in addition to her daily duties owning a business Golsan Cycles and writing novels, poetry and children's books. @CrystalChambers on Twitter,


David was right
To Thoreau away society,
Step Rhythmed distance
Within his life as art,
Reflecting beauty's intuition,
The voice of which...
Few hear.
Henry did not keep pace with his companions,
His Waldon Pond mirror reflected,
A measure of life few grasped.

BIO: Douglas H. Melloy. I am a musician. I play congas and bongos. I teach Martial arts. I have a black belt in kenpo karate. I have wirtten nine books, seven of which are in print. I enjoy dancing, playing live music, cooking, walking my dog, and drinking wines. I am 53 years young and single.


The fickle nature of our kind is not satiated without a looming air of irony; for we are unnatural. To peer out of a glass window pane and see nothing more than structures that don't grow, buckles the soul into insignificance. The makeup of whatever is made up ascertains the fact that we are creative beings. "God-like" if you will. Whether you like it or not, we are indubitably gods of our own worlds. If we weren't, our visual system wouldn't utilize the process of projection. We create our own realities with astounding precision; only to blame others for what we're responsible for. Eternally, will fortune wax and wane; and time only waits for the patient.

BIO: Carl Woods, II is a native of the state of Virginia, U.S.A. and retained a passion for the written word at a very young age. With such an understanding, he has come to realize that words have little to no power to describe the intricacies of what actually is. While studying quantum mechanics, he's become a beacon of unbridled significance to whoever reads his work. @iambecomepi on Twitter

Understanding: To Ponder the Puzzle and Wonder

To wonder less is to have more time for peace.

To have more time for peace gives more time to think.

To have more time to think creates opportunity for enjoying a good meal.

To have more good meals gives way to weight gain.

To have more weight gain leads one to energize and exercise.

To have more exercise gives more time for sightseeing.

To have more sightseeing leads one to ponder about amazing things.

To ponder about amazing things leads of course to “I wonder”

I wonder what this means.

BIO: Michael Hartzell If man was meant to only sit and think without action, God would have designed the head as a barnacle. Michael Hartzell 1953-_____


He came to the decision that living outside society was his best chance for survival – the best chance for his mental survival. His job at the call center wasn’t recession-proof. Now someone in India is performing his job – a job he performed well and enjoyed doing – for a fraction of his wages.

His job gave him value, and his employer deemed him too valuable to work there. So his job was given to someone the company valued less. That’s what money does: places value upon objects and people.

Without employment, his house was too valuable for him. The bank foreclosed on his house, he was evicted, and the house sold at a lesser value – a value he could afford.

He walks to the city limits valueless to society because he has no money. But he is invaluable to himself because he is human.

BIO: A. Jarrell Hayes is a fantasy novelist and award-winning poet. His most recent works are the fantasy novel The Larorian Conflict and the poetry collection Just Another Angry Black Man. He invites you to visit his website at Words = Life.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

The Goodbye Kiss

The Goodbye Kiss by Paul D. Brazill

The Salutation Bar was stiflingly hot and cluttered with the usual hodge podge of misfits, waifs and strays. Walter sat at a table by the window watching the streamers of steam rise from his muddy coffee. Beside him, a gangling scarecrow of a man slurped his beer with all the enthusiasm of an ex-con in a bordello. Each sip was like leaky tap drip, drip, dripping throughout a sleepless night.

Outside, the cloak of darkness had draped itself over the city, and the moon bit into the sky like a fang. The night was suddenly filled the crackle of exploding fireworks as Lena oozed into the bar like mercury. She stood before Walter and a chill of recognition sliced through him. She nodded and he stood.

The next day a church bell echoed through the granite autumn morning as Walter lay slumped against a gravestone. On his forehead, a smear of lipstick and a perfect bloody circle were all that remained of Lena’s goodbye kiss.

Bio: Paul D. Brazill was born in Hartlepool, England and is on the lam in Bydgoszcz, Poland. He has had stories in A Twist Of Noir, Six Sentences, Powder Burn Flash, Thrillers Killers n Chillers, Beat To A Pulp and other such classy joints. He can be found stalking ‘you would say that, wouldn’t you?’ at

Wednesday, April 7, 2010


My face is your face, and yours is mine,
for the likeness is obvious to me.
Who are you I ask as I stare deeply
into the mirror of my own self.

I am not afraid of you because I’m
black like charcoal and the ashes of ember.
One tarnished by the heat of the blazing
sun, even that of dried basil and such.

There can be no greater love for you in
that I cherish you with such divine
reason, and reject the notion our color
in any way, shape, or fashion degrades our

blackness. A hew so fine my heart swoons
when I behold the face of my own self.

Emmett Wheatfall is an aspiring poet living in Portland, Oregon. He is a talented writer and someone committed to respecting the art and craft of poetry. He has produced two digital recordings of his poetry: I Speak, a compilation of original poems and When I Was Young is a recording of both lyrical and non-lyrical poetry. Emmet also writes at