As It Were

As it were. You did not want to
be there. But you came –
I thought that nights like this
might re-ignite a flame.
Yet your eyes burned:
‘We have played with fire before’.
Cigarette light falters.
Finishes autumn. Night blooms,
a temporary death.
Prometheus. I grieve.

(From the collection Rain At Watford Junction (2012), David Stewart)

David Stewart lives in Glasgow, United Kingdom. Current pre-occupations are environmental journalism and the life and works of Ted Hughes.

Promenade in Dunlaoghaire

For Alessia

Your words sound and taste of old leather,

Like some deep wine they resonate

In my mind long after you are gone.

As I listen to their timbre

Certain geographical features of place

Become illuminated, like light

Reflected in rain-filled pools,

Or the sudden darkness of a morning forest

Which descends upon the sea-swept boulevards.

Such strange wanderings of the dispossessed,

I have seen so many of your eyes

Staring out at me through the darkness,

Like tiny pools of light, minute constellations

Of sound. Can you hear sight?

There, on those same boulevards,

I have also witnessed ships sliding off

Like rulers into the sea, their water table,

Where we too sit around and pass the salt,

The dried grains, the basalt, the hurt, the years;

Though, through the musk of your eyes, by the touch

Of your down, you can obliterate all.

In short, I succumb to your Byzantine smile,

Which helps me forestall the further catastrophes of dawn

That hang like a great sheet suspended above this city.

Peter O’Neill has been writing poetry for over 25 years now. His works deal largely with the darker subjects of sex, alcoholism, violence, greed, and death.He has lived and worked in France and enjoyed reading Baudelaire, Beckett, Rimbaud and Proust very much.Dante is also one of his great loves.

Werner Horvath has been painting since his youth. From 1969 – 1975 he worked in the style of Phantasic Realism and has since turned his style to New Constructivism. Horvath works with the idea that reality may not be so real after all and that the world we live in can be understood as constructed by ourselves. His work uses vivid color and imagery in a way that only he can do. For more than 15 years Horvath was also a chief radiologist, specializing in interventional radiology in Linz. But at the age of 50 he decided to quit his job and since this time he is living and working as an artist in Linz, Austria, and during the summer in his studio “Villa Arte” on the island of Crete (Greece).

To read our interview with Werner please see: Werner Horvath

For more examples of his work and more information please also see: The New Constructivism of Werner Horvath

Come on, let me have it
Come on down to Hell
Come on, and cum again
Just keep on cumming
And feel it swell and swell . . .

So, well, kiss the beast
All horny in the choir
Pissed on our priest
It was bliss for the liar
Notice that scent so true?

Never expected to piss on
The anointer of you . . .
And it was the night before
His Easter sermon —
His black sanctity hung on the door

As he lie in the bathtub
After picking me up at a bar
Only to offer beer after beer
Till my bladder was full
Enough to piss into his abyss

The mouth that speaks for God
Berating all to get through
To what’s been taught to stick to you —
Hung on a cross? Hung turned him on
Though no one knew . . .

Hustler of instinct, what came across
Was the priest shooting his load
For the price that I cost . . .
Calling it Holy Water
My piss splattering his cross

Oh, clergyman of ignorant booze
Convinced of cheers from his pews
Man of the cloth, drenched and nude
Through SMS, let’s spread the news
That our preacher’s collar is a ruse

For I saw as I pissed on his eager face
The very waste from which the gospel
Would fall from his licking the taste
Of urine from his lips to our disgrace

Yes, as a hustler I learned God’s truth:
That God is never found in a church
Or a baptism of fresh meat or youth . . .
No, God (oh, God) is in your heart —
Or a Goddess, but consider this a start

Innocence

As I wake up from my dream

I walk into a world of misery

Blinded souls, lost pages

It seems that this was a big mistake

The media preaches filth and destruction

Violence portrayed on the TV screen

Those with the faith simply shun it away

Until they arrive to church that following Sunday

Hey there friend, did you see the game

It’s okay, put that black book away

Humans care the less for their own religions

Everyone likes to party the day before

They’ll sin and sin again

Such a sweet taste, that a Sunday service couldn’t take away

Sinning is in our nature

It’s so hard to turn away

Can you hear the sedated when they pray

Look at the beauty

Why, she’s so lovely

I wish that I could make her mine

Look at her on the TV

With her breasts so perky

My own wife means nothing to me

She’s nothing like this goddess on the TV

Children’s minds are changing all of the time

I can only wait until this species truly ends

Our government is more corrupt than most criminals

It’s a nightmare that I’ll never wake from

An eternal pain

Eric May has always been a strange one, but finally having the freedom to create his own worlds through writing might have been one of the worst things to ever happen in the entirety of the multiverse. The landscapes that he creates are sure to entertain, mystify and question the logic of readers, who seem to have been babied by the novel industry of late. It has now become an industry quite like today’s movie industry, that has been catering books and films that are more or less rehashes of what they’ve already read or seen before.

He also doesn’t mind making them laugh for long periods of time. “Laughter is the best medicine” as they say. Eric still lives on a cattle farm (that isn’t even his) smack dab in the middle of nowhere, in Arkansas. He lives unmarried, with no children and plenty of animals. As for the prospect of love… Well, we won’t even go there. But rest assured, you’ll see plenty more of his insanely interesting tales to come in the future.

“Harvesters”

“Serpent”

“Untitled”

“Harish, Lord of the Monkeys”

“The Three Graces”

“Momento Mori”

“Trapezius”

“A Small Clearing”

“Ape & Model”

“Cypress & Lotus”

Peter Zokosky is an artist whose paintings are stunning in detail and rich in feeling. His works have appeared in countless exhibitions, books, and collections both private and public. A master at portraying anatomy, he has studied it up close in the way of Leonardo Da Vinci and brings it back to life on canvas. For more information on his works please see: http://www.peterzokosky.com/ and stay tuned to The Original Van Gogh’s Ear Anthology for an interview with the man behind the work.

 From animated series such as Star Wars: Ewoks, Tiny Toon Adventures, Batman and Superman: The Animated Series, The New Batman/Superman Adventures, and Batman Beyond where he worked as producer and writer, to the scripts for shows like Animaniacs, Freakazoid, He-Man and the Masters of the Universe, Justice League and Justice League Unlimited, Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Transformers, Lost, and Tower Prep, Paul Dini has written some of the most beloved and memorable characters of all time. He was worked on countless books for DC as well as Marvel. His most recent works on the animated series Ultimate Spider-Man, Hulk and the agents of S.M.A.S.H., the storyline for the video game Batman: Arkham City(the follow up to Batman: Arkham Asylum which he also penned), and Bloodspell. Dini is also a member of the Academy of Magical Arts.

To see more of the interview with Paul please see here: Paul Dini

(Please note this is an older interview of mine that originally ran at The Damned Interviews…I will be moving more of them here in the future in order to…save them. I do hope you all enjoy reading them as much as I’ve enjoyed doing them. ~Tina)

The Order of Castigation

This guilt is a sentence.
This guilt is a sentence of separation.
This guilt is a sentence of separation deferred.
This guilt is a sentence of separation deferred by offense.

This offense is an influence.
This offense is an influence of impact.
This offense is an influence of impact wasted.
This offense is an influence of impact wasted on youth.

This youth pleaded.
This youth pleaded in panels.
This youth pleaded in panels of activities.
This youth pleaded in panels of activities and offense.

An offense of force.
An offense of saturation.
An offense of own time.
An offense of friendship.
An offense of trust.
An offense of judgment.
An offense of defense.
An offense of law.
An offense of death.
An offense of impact.

Rectified by raised Bible for there is manslaughter.
Rectified by Sunday for there is binging.
Rectified by empty pews for there is blindness.
Rectified by choir for there is law.
mistake wasted mistake conviction mistake accident mistake alcohol
mistake probate mistake passenger mistake drink mistake world
mistake…isn’t free
Religious sentence
Judge him prior.

Rachel M. Newlon is a married mother of three boys who truly loves to write. She completed an undergraduate degree at Metropolitan State University in December 2010 – English (writing concentration) and will be graduating from Naropa University in July 2013 with an MFA in Creative Writing. She is just now finding comfort in sharing my work with others and have taken to the time to start the submission process.

I suffer from an inability to connect with others. When I have to deal with people, I force myself and tend to drink and/or take drugs to get through it. I don’t understand how I ended up trapped in this dread of future corpses. When I was a child, before my parents split up and traumas trumped traumas, I spontaneously connected with others. I loved everyone with pure joy in my heart. Early on, my heart and spirit were crushed. Faith seemed like clinging to a melting block of ice. Now I go through long spells of isolation where just sending an email is impossible unless I’m drunk. I am sober as I write this. For some reason, Tina, you have not turned against me as most people do. Most people think I’m rejecting them. Or they think that I think I’m better than them, or they see me as an “icy creep.” Truth is, I just don’t know how to feel close to anyone. It scares me when feelings of closeness emerge. Yet, I do love. I love you for not giving up on me. Maybe you understand whatever it is that keeps me trapped. People can be so cruel. People kill each other. People scare the hell out of me. The dilemma is that I’m a people, too. Guess I still haven’t figured out how to deal with social stuff without letting anyone rip me to pieces. As soon as I feel a certain closeness, I offer my heart. That freaks people out as much as my keeping closed off. People seem so impossible. How did I end up being a people, too? The main thing I want to make clear is that I do love lots of people. Although most people probably think I don’t give them a second thought. They’d be surprised how much they matter to me. You are among the very few that I’ve felt safe enough to open up to. Guess it’s cuz we’ve only met in cyberspace. Still, you’re often in my thoughts and always in my heart. I do love you. Always will.

Nick Percival’s highly detailed and intricate artwork has graced countless books, videogames, film, and television projects. Fans might recognize his work from Clive Barker’s Hellraiser( BOOM! Studios), World of Warcraft, Magic the Gathering, Fangoria, and D&D. He has worked for such illustrious clients as SONY, Warner Brothers, Marvel, the Sci-Fi and History channels, Hasbro, Atari, and Johnny Depps Infinitum Nihil, just to name a few. Nick is also creator of the award-winning, hardcover graphic novel LEGENDS: The Enchanted.

To read our interview with Nick see here: Nick Percival

For more of Nick’s work and links to his sites etc. also see our piece: The Art of Nick Percival