I’m gonna keep this extremely short, as I’ve been battling Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS), which is so much worse than merely “feeling chronically fatigued” (that’s just one, tiny drop in the bucket), but also, I want to keep the focus on the main point which is, the new launch of one of my WP (and real-life) besties, Oloriel Moonshadow‘s fresh, new magazine, titled: Suburban Witchcraft. She has a super cool online abode that she calls ..color me in cyanide and cherries../Oloriel’s Truth which houses a treasure trove of her personal writings and I can’t praise her highly enough for those! Click on the first or third link up there to go to her place and check them out for yourself. 😉 If you’d like to check out the absolutely gorgeous magazine she created and launched only today, again, click here or on the image below. I highly encourage you to, as it’s beautifully displayed and chock full of prose, short stories, poems, beautiful graphic illustrations, and photos- and just so well presented.
Oloriel, you’re so beautiful both inside and out and I can’t thank you enough for including me in your lovely first issue of Suburban Witchcraft! Rather than highlight my own entry, I encourage each person who finds him, her, or themselves here, to enjoy each and every entry, starting with the cover, then page 1. It’s truly a work of art in its entirety. ❤
Thanks again, O. You’re amazing, truly. x
CYANIDE & CHERRIES
I’ve been waiting for a long time to do this!
I have a totally badass friend who’s an amazing writer. I actually wanted to review her book- Colour Me In Cyanide & Cherries – as I promised her I would when I purchased a copy a wee bit ago. However, there are no words that can do this collection of writings justice, and I would feel stupid trying to.
You can click here if you’d like to check it out or pick up a copy, and I can’t recommend it enough; makes for excellent anytime-of-day-or-night reading.
Here’s a partial sample and one of my personal favourite’s, “Nine of Hearts”:
She’s a busy gal and in the process of publishing her second magazine (more on that later), so if you’d like to support her, I won’t insult her body of work by throwing up a donation tab, but I will encourage one and all to grab a copy of this most excellent (and complete) collection of poems, prose, and musings. Take my word for it: It is fantastic.
Thank you for any and all support! xx
Colour Me In Cyanide & Cherries <<<—— 💕
I throw my line here and there
Good, bad, it doesn’t matter what I catch
All the colours of the scales are beautiful in my eyes
Some think fishing is for fools
To sit and wait
For things to happen
Days and years
The line is a funny thing
Sometimes the waters muck things up
The silver line breaks
But away I go
Casting it out again
“Look at that fool,” they say.
“Holding a stick at the water’s edge.
She is mad!”
And on they go, their faint shadows diminishing before my eyes
That are razor-sharp focused on that line
That really does move this time.
Purple stripes upon my back
As fat as a Christmas Goose
To feed hungry eyes
The air around me whirs and dirs.
On the horizon
A fat noose
Hangs from a Sycamore tree
And it seems to say
”Run faster, girl! Run on!
There will be no celebration for you here!”
So I carry on through these black nights
And dark days
That will bring me to my home
On their mirrored bed of hot silver
Goblets of wine at their feet
They have waited
For their annual feast
Twisted at birth
Greedy hands cannot wait
To rip you apart
Destroy and sever you
Ugly dry bones that are good for nothing
But picking at the teeth of an angry fat man
And in the end
You’ve made his dreams come true
Pours into the mouth
No matter how tight it may be
Murky depths and water
Flood the slitted eyes
Death in its black and hollow cave
Extends a hand, quickly
Slapped back by the light
Which is growing yellow
Fat and bright
Wraps itself around the scene
Like a cobra
Shedding its last skin
The breath which was muted
Comes fast and loud and rough
Eyes burst open
Liquid spills and rolls down little hills
A final sigh as breath is held
Smiles are passed around like Cuban cigars
In the other room
Filling and spilling from eyes
The baby cries
-B. Lindsey (original)