Scapegoat

Hours wake and the dead don't talk, empty stakes in their wayward fault. Some days, beyond the post-mortem stray, where storms chase dragons and old crones decay, I search the world for more than you, but each new location only drew you nearer to those haunted hours, our littered dreams and those terminal flowers we... Continue Reading →

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Untitled, 28th Dec ‘18 by Phen Weston

Forgot to share this one with you all! Please go check out Night Forest Poetry. Maybe send them a submission?

Night Forest Cell of Radical Poets

I once ate the world!

Wrapped around its roots

And bled upon dead forest floors.

For what?

In words I am the limited,

Devoid of empathy. Standing

Rage that carves through rock

Wind, rain and hours

To be ignited like marsh gas.

Burned out.

There were days

When I was limb and night.

Aches and cause,

The blistering unity

Of sinful contented beauty.

But now the world burns out.

I watch.

I watch rage and greed

Simmer within the houses of men.

I watch with such regularity

Strings pulled

And played with unflinching depravity

That I wish, sometimes,

The world would burn a little faster.

I watch oceans fill with artificial fallacies

And habitats drown in steal

And anger,

and I scream

With wild unbroken power…

Her heart beats

Like forest fire,

And in our ashes renews without us.

In our deaths, lives in harmonious stolen

Moments

Outside the pages…

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I Die

To never see your face again Or feel your soul warm the night Is my drowning pool. Soft pit, harsh pendulum, The hours swing and I decay, In life, waiting for quietus. The only way to feel your breath That was never mine to share.

2018

I will cut you from my heart Until my hands are thick in blood. Until your memory is buried deep Into the frozen ground My love now becomes. You are rot on my tongue And will be death in my words. Our epitaph will read: “No more, my darling, only betrayal and disease Live upon... Continue Reading →

Update On Journal 

Update on the Night Forest Poetry journal.

Night Forest Cell of Radical Poets

Living in this space is weird. 

Caught between the machine and the forest, falling into a schism whose abyss is deafeningly silent – here we are. 

The words we have received for the journal are beautiful and we are thankful for those who have sought to be part of the Night Forest Cell Of Radical Poets for joining this project.

That the internet exists is ugly and not something we celebrate – but through this weapon of our enemy we have reached further than we ever expected. Across winds, oceans and land, the journal has entries from 5 continents. 

There are still decisions to be made and work to be before the collection will be published, but we are now no longer accepting entries for the journal – all submissions sent now will only be considered for the site. 
Love, rage 

And fire

Feral desire

In this iconoclastic space 

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Talitha – Free Ebook/PDF

Hello Beautiful people! How are we all? So, I've been a little quiet lately, but I have been busy. New day job and other changes in my life have taken too much of my time at present. But such is life. I am still here and, although it may be sporadic, I will continue to... Continue Reading →

Addams

Sleep in shadows – unhinged – draped against such oblique regard. The world renounced such disjointed beauty, lapping against darker shores. I would surrender my life to feel your heart beat – howling demon – once more. You are not alone, my love! But let my love no longer trouble you. For in those days... Continue Reading →

Harbinger

Little girl lost in snow her heart filled with boundless woe We came together, by the see only her bleak soul and me She held me close, my astral bride and together, there, we both died Little girl lost in winter am I just another splinter? We came together, we loved apart she was the... Continue Reading →

Joy Division

I was lost in my own shadowplay, transmission mixed with untouched states. To blame it all on unknown pleasures, I am the disease, still, your disorder. You became my ceremony, atmosphere in incubation. Between the streets of Warsaw, walking digital traps and glass potential ‘Dead souls’ plays on the radio, as I wrap myself in... Continue Reading →

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