Drunk On New York

By Peter

 

Madness is unrefined passion

Passion is exonerated madness

Yak’s milk is sweet

and I drink to no end

 

No end

like these streets—

I walk every one

and never grow tired

 

knowing even eternity won’t last forever

and I have a train to catch

out to the countryside, where a mad yak

waits for me

 

with an infectious smile

with pure milk

 

which I drink to no end

and think of the endless city streets—

with bronze idols, glass walls,

cemented paths

 

That is all behind me now

The streets are behind me

The train is behind me

The mad yak is behind me

 

goading me to keep going to no end

goading me to drink her milk to no end

 

until the last sap of life is drained

so she can sleep to no end

 

so her dreams become my dreams

and my dreams travel beyond

the endless city streets

who refuse to sleep

 

They drink me to no end

consuming the same mad yak visions

that gestate in the womb of slumberless nights

who give birth to babies

 

that overrun the endless city streets

with cries for yaks milk.

The wails resonate

off skyscrapers as

 

an admission of want for nothing

other than mother,

an omission of subways, stadium deals,

condo complexes, dreams of electric sheep.

 

A call for transformation

of pavement to pasture

and the world’s city citizens

to sprout curved horns

 

grow hooves, don thick coats of fur

and udders and udders

filled with the passion and madness

of yaks milk

Five Actions for Wednesday

By Chef Steel

Find two useless things. Unite them together with instant glue or string
Photograph the object

Find a small useless object. Wrap it completely with electrical tape
Photograph the object

Buy or use a deck of playing cards. Shuffle and take a card without
looking at it. Rip up the card into small pieces and put it into a blank
envelope. Put a stamp on it and mail. Wrap up the deck of cards
with masking tape and write on it “Missing in action”.
Photograph the object and envelope

Buy or use a full packet of flower seeds. Open and walk south 25 steps
and throw the seeds in the air. Tape up the seed packet and write on it
“my seeds are sown -(date)
Photograph the object

Find a useless object. Use it as something else for the rest of the day.
Photograph the object. Put the object in a box
Keep the photograph

After each action, keep what you can in a box. Write on the box “Use Now”.
Keep the box for one month on a windowsill. Then leave the box in a public
space i.e. bus seat, mall table, public bathroom mirror or a stranger’s car.
*note what I mean by useless object is something that is common or
broken such as a spoon or fork, a broken watch or earring.

The Sketchy Kids are Live – Episode One

This is the first episode of our original Cable access TV show. If you enjoy be sure to subscribe on Youtube for more!

Feeling Passionate

By Kaleigh Lawton

Untitled Poem by Veronica Levels

 By Veronica Levels

My mind once held so much confusion, I wasn’t able to speak a word.
No words flowing out of my mouth
But the silence,
It spoke the unheard.
Tear stained cheeks, I couldn’t even begin to describe the pain.
I had been thru hell and back and I doubt things would ever be the same.
They’d ask how I’m doing, I’d respond with I’m doing just fine.
Being weak is not an option so that’s my favorite line.
Throughout the many months, Jada was my helpful eye.
Promise being my best friend helped me to point out every lie.
Saliha, you’re the one that taught me not to give every situation a reaction
Unless well needed.
Well unhappiness was sentenced to death,
Guilty it pleaded.
I knew no matter how hard I tried, I wouldn’t be able to do this alone.
But I also knew I needed peace and couldn’t be knocked off my throne.
I had left the negative behind and set my main focus on the positive.
The moment I did so I knew it was time to move on
I had to forgive.
I had forgiven those that hurt me in multiple ways, I had forgiven those that treated me as an option most days.
After years and years of held in hate I had forgiven my father. To hold in so much hate I thought why bother.
I had forgiven those friends that turned their backs on me but I swear I’ll never forget how they would ,
Lie
Sneak around
And deceive
I forgive you for walking away when things got tough, and I forgive you for misleading me to believe it was love only knowing it was lust.
As I’m looking at the person who hurt me most in the eyes I find myself reminiscing about the pain hurt and lies.
Forgiveness is the key you need to defeat your enemy and once you do so they’re no longer draining you taking away all of your energy.
Forgiving was the hardest, yet most rewarding thing that I ever had to do. I mean how do you forgive someone who didn’t give one care about you ?
Well you do it for you .
One thing I said to myself is whoever put me last, I’m going to put them first.
But I no longer want them to feel what I felt and that includes
The pain
The loneliness
And the hurt.

Wedding gift – Origami by Jade

everybody is drunk

good things come slowly…

CREATED BY FEATURED ARTIST SLOWPOKE THE BASTIAN

letter to a facebook bot

Salutations Ashley. It certainly has been some time since we last saw one another. The War was tough & trying times for us all. How have adjusted to civilian life? I hope all is well.

If I may be so bold, I never forgot our victory at Guirgevo. When I reminisce on those days, I can feel the blood rushing through my veins as my body recalls the thrill of battle once more. Our brothers in arms who fell that day will not be forgotten.

And that fateful night at Petropaulovsk, I recall lying with you, underneath the stars, our bodies bloody and broken. I remember the breaking of first light at dawn. We summoned all the courage we had for one final charge. All our hope rested on the Queen’s Naval Forces, the fabled Redcoats, to reinforce and relieve us from our futile struggle. When the ships sunk, all hope was lost and we slipped into despair.

I remember nothing after this time, it was all a blur. It seemed my eyelids closed for just a moment, but when I awoke I was recovering in a medical ward in Eguisheim. After the treaty was formalized in Paris I attended the ceremonies and decorations of the surviving heroes. I saw you at an aristocratic dinner party but the next thing I knew you were gone. I always wondered since that night what happened to your story after Petropaulovsk and the war.

Yours,

General Sir Collingwood Dickenson