Sunday Confessionals : Secrets

•July 31, 2022 • Leave a Comment

Join me for Sunday Confessionals!

Mindlovemisery's Menagerie

Image found HERE

In the folk- tale collected by writer Vuk Karadzic, “Emperor Troyan has goat ears” you will find notions of a cruel and malevolent emperor Troyan, who, as the title suggests, had a set of goat ears. Every day, the emperor would be visited by a barber, whom the emperor would ask, after shaving him, what did he notice? Each barber would say that he saw the emperor have a pair of goat ears, and the emperor would have each barber killed. One barber, when it was his turn to shave the emperor, fakes being ill and sent his apprentice instead. After shaving the emperor, the apprentice barber was asked what did he see, to which the apprentice answered with “I saw nothing”. As a reward, the emperor gave him 12 golden coins and ordered him to be the only one to shave him from now on. But…

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Immortal Mortality

•July 26, 2022 • 17 Comments
Immortal Mortality

“Immortal Mortality”

Mixed Media / July 2022

*Newest piece I created while simultaneously toiling at work. Lately, all of the pieces I am creating feel like they do not resemble what you could call my “style”. It is neither a good nor a bad thing, just a slightly weird feeling to notice. Over and over again, I am, you could say, surprised by the refreshing paths of art I seem to end up on, year after year, and even though I as usual cannot name this “a style” or an “intention”, I love the final product, and I enjoyed creating it.

As always, I am open to your thoughts and impressions. Have a wonderful day!


•July 19, 2022 • 7 Comments
Image found HERE


On the paintings
the girls they tiptoe
to strip down the silvers,
wider shins and waning
around their legs and arms;

the ravens caw;

the boys swallow the Sun,
pick it like snacks,
bejewel their veins
and sleep in its golden slit –
How unlikely is the myth
of my Nature and my Nurture,
in the bosom of a knot –
in the vertebrae,
like an un-bitten
slice of an orange;
callous and white

the locking of eyes,
yours and mine:
someone’s easy bishop
with the queens baggage,
hunting riffle over his shoulder,
starless in his vessel – taken to g7,
our hearts bobbing in his sack like a holiday plan
discussed over hotdogs, mojitos,
over the blood and within the dream,
rocked like a boat and worn like a straw-hat,
full of paper strips,
bearing our childish names for everythings,

the dead tree reminders
are the diction
in our necks –
my thoughts of you like will-o-wisp,
your thoughts of me blameless nostalgia
sealed with a touch,
a kiss,
a holding.

The brushing off the hair
from your face to
make space for sunlight;
the disarming of my clenched teeth
for the moonlight to cope


our loves,
like our deities,
leisuring on top of emerald fields
donning the paintings;
are fiction,
yet you and I
are real,


*Written for the Wordle at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie

Sunday Confessionals : Hello

•July 17, 2022 • 5 Comments

Hosting the Sunday Confessionals at Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie! Join us, write, share, read!

Mindlovemisery's Menagerie

Hello everyone and Welcome to the first Sunday Confessional!

Image found HERE

For this first prompt on Confessional Sunday, I would like us all to get creative, get free, and for it to feel inviting. That is why I would like to invite you to Introduce yourself.

You can present your material in any form, be it written words, photographs, a mix and match of the two or three or just about anything, topic being Introducing yourself; saying Hello.

Feel free to, if lacking current inspiration, but wanting to participate re-visit or re-share a poem/creation, which you feel like could represent you and let us get to know a little bit about it. Consider it an opportunity to show a snippet of yourself.

As an inspiration or idea, in the form of a prompt, it makes me think of Lexicons ( Autograph book). If you have never heard of this…

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Suburban Witchcraft Magazine – Issue 2

•July 9, 2022 • 4 Comments

Issue 2 of Suburban Witchcraft Magazine is now live! Do give it a read and let me know what you think, and as always: if you enjoy it, show it around!

Suburban Witchcraft Magazine

Suburban Witchcraft Magazine – Issue 2

Summer greetings, everyone!

Issue 2 of Suburban Witchcraft Magazine is now Live, featuring stories, photographs, poetry and art!

You can read the magazine here:

or by clicking on the cover image above!

We hope you enjoy Issue 2, and as always, tell us what you think!

Our submission period is : always! If you are interested in being part of our Issue 3, you can send your writing, artworks and photography to We look forward to seeing and showcasing your creations!

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Issue 2 – Cover Reveal

•July 4, 2022 • 9 Comments

Suburban Witchcraft Magazine Issue 2 Cover Reveal! Let me know what you think!

Suburban Witchcraft Magazine

Fair folk, it is with great ardor that I would like to present to you the cover for Issue 2 of Suburban Witchcraft Magazine:

Cover of Issue 2, Suburban Witchcraft Magazine

Hope you enjoy the cover while waiting for Issue 2 to go live in the following weeks of July.

While waiting, you can always take a browse at our Issue 1; and we are always open for submissions of your own work which you can send to:

Happy reading!

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Issue 2 : More Poetry

•June 28, 2022 • 2 Comments

Looking for more POETRY for Issue 2 of Suburban Witchcraft Magazine. If you submit or help me spread the word – it will be much appreciated!

Suburban Witchcraft Magazine

Issue 2 : Submissions Open

Greetings, all!

Issue 2 of Suburban Witchcraft is currently looking for some more POETRY.

If you are waiting for just the right time to submit your writing, this is it. Likewise, if you know someone who would be interested, feel free to spread the word – it will be much appreciated.

All submissions can be sent to :

Here’s to the summer eloping more gracefully in these dark and turbulent times, and Issue 2, coming soon!

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The Real Deal

•June 15, 2022 • Leave a Comment
Photo credit Sarah Whiley

It’s been a while since he tasted the real thing. Too long. Exasperated and pacing in front of the bar kitchen door, Henry was thoughtfully splitting the grams and piles in his head. He touched the outskirts of his pocket, tracing for his phone and his keys. Neon advertisements were shinning relentless against his thriving anxiety and anticipation. Where is this guy?

The door flung open. A man in his twenties briskly stepped out, closed them, and leaned against the wall. He took out an electronic cigarette, red – with polka- dots, and took a long drag. He blew the smoke towards the starless sky.

“Are you Henry or not, mate.”
“Yes, I am Henry.”
“I’m the guy.”

Henry’s eyes widened. He was thinking about dust, colours, the smell. He brushed his thoughts away and gave the dealer a puppy eyed stare. This is going to cost him a fortune. And he would risk even more, if he could. He was weak, unfair. Craving.
He opened his jacket and slid his left hand inside towards the back. He unclicked a plaque from his belt and took a look at it.
It said X89 – POW32 – 444 – ZD. He extended the card and the guy took it, reading the code.

“That’s me”
“Yes, according to the depository code, that’s you. Can I have it now?”

The dealer instinctively ran his hand through his hair, pushing a single bright-pink braid behind his ear. He pulled out a small wooden box and handed it to Henry.

“Don’t open it until you are ready to use it”
Henry understood.

“Thanks, man. I hope you don’t mind me asking, feels like we are not exchanging small favours here. Why would you give me my points tracking code? For , you know, this? You could get into a lot of trouble man.Everything is digital, how did you even manage to card it?”

Henry took three short breaths, thinking about the taste, the smells, the sizzling gritting of his teeth, the explosions.

“Don’t worry about it, everything”, he paused, “is digital.”

“How long do I have?”

“30 minutes, starting tomorrow, 8:15 AM”

Henry couldn’t help himself but add:
“Be fair.There’s 200 of my own points there”
They agreed on 150.

The dealer glanced at the box he handed to Henry, now rotating between his restless palms, and said :”You too, man.” He took another drag while turning around and dissapearing back behind the door.

Henry zipped back his jacket and headed out of the alley. Sounds of music, chatter, sirens, alarm, yelling and beeping dancing around him. He held the wooden box out in his right hand and opened it with his left.

Metallic, frail and worn baggies of noodle sauce packets glistened under the streetlight. It has been too long. Digital flavours dulled against his neuros made him salivate bitter. Too long. But Henry is eating real spices tonight.

*Written for Mindlovemiserysmenageries Photo Prompt


•June 14, 2022 • Leave a Comment


Mixed media – digital collage / March 2022

What the voayer moon told me

•June 2, 2022 • 21 Comments
Image found HERE

What the voayer moon told me

The trinkets that a traveler would tuck
inside the safety of a pocket
is akin to pleading a household
to bless
the paintbrush water –
the sun to not lap it up;

the same sun
that took in oceans
like it is happy hour.

We find it funny –
when you stare,
when you beg for the rain,
when you are drowning,
when you call us “Mine”,
when you keep us in your hair;
the songs you sing,
the precious little notes –
different, if I am Here
or There,
praying I hear it.

your courtesan stars
behind the smoke screen,
your billowing hands
stretching tablecloths
across the heavens –
counting your gardens
against the rust of your pennies,
chirping your bruises
to be kissed blue
thinking I alone have
in some imagined constructions
calmed all others
like a never- sleeping
mother goose.

As though I have christened
their souls
to be the jewels of your blessings,
like your hunts have not bored me to darkness,
like I carved your husks to my liking,
like your and everyone’s lover
is never on that
curved cliff edge
with runts of his litter
in a sack
inventing words for the first time,
your hungers
harking through your souls,
your deities outdated;

a thousand hundred millions
of my hands
you crave for cradling,
swaddling your restless hearts
and crooning,
seducing, omitting
feeding a crescendo
from my curved mouth
into your nightingale throat.

Yes, I am here –

that much we’ve learned;
But I am mostly just looking.
And you are only looking too.

*Shared with dVerse Open Link Night

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