We take a dive into some Rudyard Kipling, talk about the boiler room of our lives, and come out with a deeper sense of what makes a man. Or wo-man. Y’know like whoa-man in a whoa-er way of man: Continue reading A Real Human Being w/ Peter Croonquist
My aim is to be helpful to myself
Not the “me” part of myself, but the “we” part
The part of me that’s in all of us… Continue reading Chief Aim
Cool Hand Hayes (Hayes Johnson) spits consciousness to the flow of rhythm and poetry: Continue reading -The Captains Call to Action-
He was her unicorn,
a beautiful creature that remained
so perfectly unattained.
She thrives on chasing unicorns,
confuses pleasure with pain… Continue reading Unicorn
Jennifer Ann Butler recites her spoke-word poem “Somewhere in between Dawn & Dusk”: Here is the link for our folks on the E-Mail: “Somewhere in between Dawn & Dusk” If you wanna throw some love towards realizing a life-long dream click this … Continue reading “Somewhere in between Dawn & Dusk”
When the cell door shut, reality closed in around him. 30 years… He would be 48 before he’d ever take a free breath. His dream of pursuing a career as a musician ended with the turning of a cell key. … Continue reading Inside the Minds Eye w/ Dadge Parrish aka #ForeverMusik
In this moment, a sense of remorse becomes me. A sun downing as my vessel approaches the dark of night. Amidst the energetic fervor of a day gone by, each second bringing me joy, I find fear now, creeping in from the horizon. The sun over casts itself across the deep expanse of blue, the ocean breathing fresh salt into my lungs as I explore emotion, an emotion that’s difficult to define, for words and feeling escape the coming night. The inevitable darkness that consumes all being. The sun is down and the night extends itself to infinity. Piercing beneath … Continue reading Sun Downing: A Poem Captured at Sea
Written and Painted by: Sam Rathvon
Once, in an English class that I did not particularly care for, I heard an amazing story. My professor told of a poet who worked in a field. It was said that he could feel a poem coming like a calm breeze passing through the grains of wheat. The poet would run as fast as he could back to the house to find some means of capturing the poem; always hearing its inspiration drawing nearer and nearer. Sometimes, he would make it back to his house in time to gather some paper and ink before the train passed his station. However, there were just as many times when he felt the poem pass him by like a gust in the wind. Gone forever, and never to return.
The poem was in search of someone to capture. Continue reading “Fear, Frustration, and Creation”