Solace by Aaron Ang
Picture By: Aaron Ang

Cracks across my face:
Like a bone
Covered with lace,
My skin comes undone.
Rivers of time:
I’ve never been so lost.
In the current of age’s rhyme
I wonder what my wasted time cost.
The wrinkles of life cover my fingers:
Like bark on an old oak tree.
I am grateful for time, for its memories,
Because in death, it has set me free.


In Memory

Music by Yanko Peyankov
Picture By: Yanko Peyanko

Their music a part of who we are,
We build them up on the charts
And watch as they fall far
From our hearts.
Dancing across life’s stage,
Immortal in a single moment –
They crumble under fame’s age.
And they pass, leaving only remnant.
We’ve forgotten, as we idolize,
That they are human too.
And with tears in our eyes
We remember all they do.

Phone Line

In the Mountains by Alexandr Schwarz
Picture Taken By: Alexandr Schwarz

Millions of times, I’ve wished heaven had a phone line.

I guess, then, everything would feel fine.

‘Cause to hear your voice one more time would

Heal every wound overnight.

And even though they told me,

Every once in a while – I wonder if you’re truly free.

Longing for you has put this whole in my heart,

Just know I wish we never had to part.

All the time I wish you were still here,

‘Cause then you wouldn’t be there – I

Keep telling myself I’m alright, but

Soon I know I’ll give up the fight.

Over time, I felt this heaviness.

Now all I feel is emptiness.



At the essence of my soul,

Ink and ash mark a hole.

I twirl vicious thoughts around in my mind,

And forget every promise that binds.

Remembering only sparks of light

As I go through the night

I know I am not who I was yesterday,

I feel deeper, stronger in every way.

I know this fire of emotions

Will be the death of me.

Beautiful Death

the rolling hills by aleksandra boguslawska
Picture Taken By: Aleksandra Boguslawska Image Courtesy: unsplash.com

These hills cry out in despair.

The skies rain down war

And clouds try to blanket the pain,

But they cannot.

I’ve seen these pathway many times,

I’ve heard the wind in the hills.

I try to frown,

But I cannot.

In the midst of death

I see nothing but beauty –

And even if my mind tells me to give up,

I will not.

The Railroad

Picture Taken by: Edoardo Loru
Courtesy: unsplash.com

If you sat there

And waited long,

Eventually the fear

Would come ripping along.

The gravel at your feet

Reminds you too dearly

Of the pavement on a street

Where were beat strenuously.

The train arrives at four

Blazing down the track.

When the conductor looks out the door:

Your vision will soon run black.

In the middle of the railroad:

The bars trap you, the gravel haunts you,

Your life taunts you.  The good isn’t bad.

But the bad isn’t good, you know it’s true.

The railroad will take your life because

You are coal in the fire – burning yourself out.


image courtesy: photography.tutsplus.com


The dust justifies living,

Or rather an absence

Of being.

This dust is a void of nonsense.

It paints pianos shut with fear

And makes the steps creak.

It is the lines on an old stuffed teddy bear.

It just makes your knees weak.

The dust takes over the house

And climbs along the walls. 

It drives out the mouse

And dust runs when someone calls.

Dust… is absence of love.