Writing

Millennial Rx by Rebeka Singer — Video Still by Stasja Voluti

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Millennial Rx

by Rebeka Singer

 
 

"Untitled Still of Video Poem Project", Copyright © 2015 Stasja Voluti

“Untitled Still of Video Poem Project”, Copyright © 2015 Stasja Voluti

 
 

Here’s my soul. I’m giving it to you. Do you want it? Will you take it? I don’t care for it much anymore. My soul never gave me much. And now here it is: I’ll curse it out. “Every inch of my tar black soul,” Lana sings. That’s mine. Thank you, Lana, for making tar black souls sound soulful.

 

I watch a Harry Potter film each night, sometimes two in a row, either the same, or two separate films in the series. I drink champagne and pop Xanax to numb the fear that I might actually be alone, or, worse, I might actually need to be alone.
See, I want to be in love—with my boyfriend or ex-boyfriend, he never really can decide his status, or my ex-husband, whom I left for my phantasm of a boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend. Never can tell. Can’t tell much. Wish I could say, “Can’t tell me nothing” like Kanye West. An ex-friend text me the other day: “Don’t parade your life around Facebook like Kanye West. You’re not a rich, famous rapper— yet.” That’s not verbatim.

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Home for Christmas, 1975 by Ron Kolm

Posted on by urbangraffito Posted in Daily, Fiction, Ron Kolm, Writing | 1 Comment

Home for Christmas, 1975

by Ron Kolm

 
 

Illustration Copyright © 2014 Dan Freeman

Illustration Copyright © 2014 Dan Freeman

 
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TeleText on a Cross by Andreas Maria Jacobs

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TeleText on a Cross

visual art and poetry

by Andreas Maria Jacobs

 
 

"Lady Bird", Copyright © 2014 Andreas Maria Jacobs

“Lady Bird”, Copyright © 2014 Andreas Maria Jacobs

 
 
Parking Lot Whore
 
 
like a parking lot whore
smoking crack behind the fire door
humming songs through your broken teeth
 
of beaten cheeks on dirty floors
among rusty bicycles without locks
dripping mouths and swollen cocks
 
in silent sunsets without lights
of asphalt jungles & neon nights
 
it was in this mental hospital we did meet
among your medicine and the drugs you need
 
to stop your broken heart from knocking at the door
of the hidden entrance to the second floor
 
in that secret city where we never were before
where golden roses were covering your sheets
 
~Andreas Maria Jacobs Read more

Prince Picnic by Clint Burnham

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Prince Picnic
 
 
I told my father, I said, I am going to be a musician. He say magician no good. I say, why you magician no good?
 
Magician be gay. Woman be gay. Man be gay. Everything be gay.
 
He say you will I say how you think that. I am disappointed in you. What do you think you raised? How did you raise? You raised me. How can you think magic will make me not your son? Read more

Party Everywhere by Jeffrey Cyphers Wright

Posted on by urbangraffito Posted in Art, Poetry, Visual Art, Writing | 2 Comments

Party Everywhere

by Jeffrey Cyphers Wright

 
 

"Sigmar Polke Rides Again", Collage, Copyright © 2014 Jeffrey Cyphers Wright

“Sigmar Polke Rides Again”, Collage, Copyright © 2014 Jeffrey Cyphers Wright

 
 
Party Everywhere
 
 
Swing your partner
Round and round
 
Go down swinging
 
Write your own ticket
 
Imagine civic engagement
as a party
 
Now dive into now
 
Action figure
 
RAZOR TONGUE
(Sucking wind) Read more