Four Poems by Nancy Kennedy

 

Purple Crush

Because I wear my desires  

so close to the skin

are they no less holy 

than crushed lavender in the illicit bed.

The colorful iris perfumed like a grape would be as effervescent in shades of gray.

We can't smell our sins anymore than the lilacs across the way can smell their fragrance.

strip me

strip me of my thin veneer of righteousness 

and you will find me on a good day, a smear of red paint on a canvas, 

strained at every corner, speaking out loud while saying nothing, 

staring across the field humbled by a rush of purple.

Letter From Vincent

You are my woman 

of the moonless night

my child wife

my only sister

my better brother

my knife

my courage and my innocence

my eyes in the darkness

You are the music 

playing through my wall

amid the white powder

my angel fish glowing in the tank.

You are my starry, starry night.

Perpetua 

It was the late freeze that killed 

my flowers, the shrubs turned 

brown and died, 

the camellia and the gardenia—

my jasmine is sanguine 

and doomed on the vine.

An old cane of the Cecile Brunner 

rose—the finial of the garden

is pinioned to the ground.

I don't think it will ever bloom again. 

I hope it doesn't.

I want all green things to suffer

as I have from my perennial winter.

Anniversary

Stay home with me on this chilly day.

We will celebrate the sun and its mysteries.

We will huddle together in the corner of our dwelling and wait for the night's insistence.

We will shutter the moon as it tries to intrude,

while I sit at your feet 

the whole night through 

and kiss you with my sugared breath.

Nancy Kennedy's work has been published in Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Best of Choeofpleirn, Miserere Review, Highland Park Poetry, Thimble, and is upcoming in Gargoyle. She currently lives in Alabama.

Five Poems by Aiden John Thomas Cashmore

The Philosopher’s Conundrum

Existential crisis, the heart of a philosopher’s vocation.

The blissful dance of oneness and loneliness.

The Yin-Yang of consciousness and ego feed on each other like the Midgard Serpent

Consumption and regurgitation

Everlasting.

The Socratic-Cynic inside questions reality as the terrestrial flavours dance in his vision. 

An altered state. 

A harmonious awareness.

For to be aware of everything is becoming nothing.

The Steaming Kettle

The ever encouraging rage boiling inside the steaming kettle of the psyche

Is the egoic reactionary system responding to fear.

The anxiety of being a grown up baby in a world full of Molochs. 

The paradox of distain and love to thy fellow man. 

It warps the conscious mind into an unconscious drone.

What can be done?

Must we kill ego? 

Kill apart of ourselves?

To become our true self?

The one?

Who is asking these questions?

The Life-Paradox

Devour me. Come forward if you dare.

For this darkness is merely the absence of light.

My fear is curiosity.

My angst is adventure.

My anger is passion.

My hatred of self—

An inflammatory reaction to become infinity again.

The yearning for oneness

Is a journey through individuality.

One must walk alone through darkness,

In the constraints of his vessel,

To capture the essence of light.

The true duality of man.

The life‑paradox.

Kundalini

The visage of the ego crumbles as the soul enter metamorphosis.

A rocket propelled ignition into the abyss of the impossible realm.

The serpent rises from it’s coiled hibernation

It’s holy light refracts off the spine like a prism—

illuminating the infinite 

Even gratitude cannot be expressed or felt in this place

Only the gorgeously grotesque feeling of death and rebirth—

Eternally

 

Letter to the Demiurge

Archonic beasts ravage my mind.

Poisoning the well with corruption.

Their efforts are futile.

Rue the day you will, when my soul leaves this vessel…

For you will be in my reach…

At last.

Aiden John Thomas Cashmore is a Scottish writer, poet, and explorer of consciousness. His work weaves together mysticism, philosophy, and the unseen dimensions of human experience, often inspired by the interplay of light, sound, and thought. Fascinated by the nature of perception and the spiritual landscapes of the mind, he crafts poems that navigate the thresholds between reality and imagination. When not writing, he spends his time climbing, wandering outdoors, and experimenting with altered states of awareness to deepen his understanding of the self and universe. His poetry has been described as immersive, visionary, and meditative, seeking to connect readers with both the sublime and the intimate corners of the psyche.