no,no,no! stop thinking 
drown your thoughts 
suppress your feelings 

dread overcomes you as you fall down the rabbit hole

“stop it!” you yell
to who? 

the clouds, your body, your mind, and any other fill-in 

drowning through music
suppressing through pain
relief found in hideous ways 
just to stop those voices from calling
just to stop those thoughts from resurfacing

you’re fine, you’re fine, you’re fine!

you’re safe 
the beams keep you warm and red
you’re okay
a blanket surrounds you with sounds

these are different from the others 
these keep you occupied

before you know it slowly fades 

why?…..
no,no,no!

the snakes crawl up your body and wrap around your spine 
where did they go they whispered promises of loyalty but where are they now
this time its different there is no sound
your left defenseless as it swallows you whole

you're just a useless shell of grey

they greet you again as it starts again 
where did you go?
you sit there and smile as a crack begins to form
you can see them in the corner of your eye
they took away your tongue 

time goes by she asks if your okay
time goes by he asks if your okay

there’s no relief when it comes 

instead your faced with yourself
you can see what you did now
can they see?
you had to do it
they took your tongue and now your will

instead its just reminds you of the countdown 
its just a ticking time bomb
you're shackled to the floors 
you’ve decided to wave the white flag

instead you’re given time to reminisce 
the good old days, they haunt you
craters begin to form 
you smile as the crack completely breaks it into two 

you begin to question the intentions

was this you?
was this him?
was this it?

just stop thinking 
but it’s not so simple


Author Bio:
Elizabeth Bobyr is a teen writer. 

Today the sky is a sage of moon and shining star
Feeling your presence even when thou is miles far
Recalling the moments thou was with me,
Now only sitting with these hunting stars.
All what I can do;
Wonder in whole days’ scars
Thou provoking but alas!
Left over is only chaos
Little hope of sun shines
Here in society full of flaws!


Author Bio:
Maria Sani is a Pakistani citizen, presently living in Islamabad. She is a book reviewer, freelance editor, author and poet. She mostly writes her poems in Urdu and aims to bring change in society.

Every woman born
ingrains a burden because
every other man born
perpetuates a crime
that kills her (them)
inside (within). 

Every other woman 
justifies every other man
silencing the woman 
so she forgives (if only she forgets).
Every other-other man born
salutes every other man born
pardoning his (their) violence.

No woman born is ever free;
she’s (they’re) ingrained with burden.
No other man born ever owns up
until the other women & other-other men born
break the deadlock evermore. 


Author Bio:
Nadia Gerassimenko discovered her love for poetry writing at the age of fourteen. When at first she was inspired by nature’s grace, spring-like air, and the idea of love, her direction changed towards exploring the complexities and nuances of relationships and inner feelings and traumas as well as pain and endurance of being chronically ill. She loves words, the deep meaning they hold, the structure and placement of words in sentences that create vivid images and unforgettable emotions. Nadia is a Lyme warrior princess and a moonchild in life and assistant editor at Luna Luna Magazine and freelance proofreader in the work field. She loves to read, write, and play video games in her spare time. Nadia self-published her first poetry collection "Moonchild Dreams" (2015) and hopes to republish it traditionally. She's currently working on her second chapbook, "a chair, a monologue." Visit her attepidautumn.net or tweet her at @tepidautumn. 

At the peak of a dream when the revelation’s near comes 
the twist like a clap 

That cuts loud into silences long in the thick 
of the drama involved 

And you’re jerked out of it like a bird on a branch
when it swings with a force.    
  ​
Author Bio:
Saloni Kaul, author and poet, was first published at the age of ten. As critic and columnist, Saloni has enjoyed 38 years of being published. Saloni Kaul's first volume, a 50-poem collection, published in 2009. Subsequent volumes include Universal One and Essentials All. Recent publications include: Poetry Quarterly, The Penwood Review, Eye On Life Magazine, Tipton Poetry Journal, The Horrorzine, Poetry Paint Anthology, Misty Mountain Review, and Inwood Indiana, and Mad Swirl. Upcoming publication acceptances include Sentinel Quarterly (October 2016) as well as AJI Magazine.

Now,
sitting 
in this office room
where the wall clock 
dries wells of hope 
where sounds emanate 
from nowhere,
but are sounds all the same
where the cricket's hum 
is brain teaser 
where I see the sun sinking 
in a bowl of dust 
where blaring music 
hurts

Dusk invades the 
heart. 
like a crusader's spirit 
I am proselytized. 
​

Author Bio:
Ananya S. Guha lives in Shillong, northeast India.

In 1682, William Penn challenged us:
“Let us then discover what love will do.”
Instead of vengeance, he advocated love.
In the wake of the shock, horror, and grief of Dallas,
it is hard to think of love when one man’s hate
leaves our streets drenched in blood,
Black blood, White blood, Hispanic blood,
LGBTQ blood--
it’s all the same;
it all bleeds red, and when too much is lost,
it leaves people dead.
 
The presidency of Barack Obama is testimony
to America’s potential to transcend the racial scars
left from the founding of this nation
—Whites cheating, stealing, killing, dehumanizing
Red men, women, and children,
Whites enslaving, whipping, maiming, raping, killing, dehumanizing
Black men, women, and children.
Obama a high point, and now, a low point,
Micah Johnson, the first Black mass shooter,
to join the likes of the shooters
at Columbine, Sandy Hook, and Orlando.
MLK said, “Hate cannot drive out hate:  only love can do that.”
Dallas, the setting of JFK’s assassination,
52 years later, the scene of the execution of five
Dallas police officers--
the racial wound ripped open again.
 
At our core, we’re a nation founded on conquest
 (by whatever means necessary),
violence, racism, sexism, and greed.
We hide behind words like “democracy,” “freedom,” and “liberty.”
We drape ourselves in the red, white, and blue.
But if we really look, the glaring inequalities
are right there in front of us--
in our schools,
in our cities and communities,
in our jails and prisons,
and they touch everything from
health care to the media to national security.
 
If we really want to end racial violence,
we need to end poverty and offer equal educations to all our children
regardless of color or gender identification status.
“Hot spot” policing and “Stop and Frisk”
wouldn’t disproportionally target poor minorities
if there wasn’t poverty,
and the “school-to-prison-pipeline” wouldn’t be so racially biased
if there was quality education for every child.
 
We talk, and we talk--
Black Lives Matter--
Yeah, they do!  But we won’t mean it
until our tax dollars go into making
fundamental societal change.
 
Loving those around us helps us want
justice, truth, and equality
for them as well as ourselves.
Us versus them only encourages
injustice, fraud, and inequality.
Violence begets violence.
It can’t be us versus them
because we’re all in this together
—The United States of America,
Black, White, Red, Yellow, and Rainbow.
“Let us then discover what love will do.”
Love or hate?
There’s always a choice.


Author Bio:
Kathleen Murphey teaches composition and literature courses in the English Department at Community College of Philadelphia. She has a Ph.D. in American Civilization from the University of Pennsylvania. Recently, she has started creating fiction (poetry and fiction) trying to give voice to more empowered visions of female sexuality and to social justice issues. To see more go to www.kathleenmurphey.com.

Like a woman walking in silver cloak
Flows the river in her mood.
She divides the trees and the mountains
And carries her weight through the forest.
She is the life of this nation --
Cooling the heat in a single swoosh
With greatness in her simplicity
Providing water, our lifeblood, to all!


Author Bio:
Ritu Tayal is a teacher and writes as a hobby. 

I bite hard on the lime 
tooth scrub, enamel bug
acid, my salt lick tongue
bent towards a phantom 
meld of margarita 

and shudder a strange
shimmy, shoulder
side, see your body 
above me bright 
and shivering. 

Do not sing to me of sentiment,
the pulse you feel inside me
is not my heart.

I feast with alacrity
on bitter limes.


Author Bio:
Abigail Michelini is an English instructor at Southern West Virginia Community and Technical College working on her doctorate in English at Indiana University of Pennsylvania. She has been a lover of poetry since she was 8-years-old, when she and her dad started memorizing poems together. It has remained a life force for her ever since. 

​The people watcher, watching peole go by.
Short, tall, fat, and thin,
Lean, man, happy and sad,
Angry, mad, or jumping for joy. 

Rich, poor, black, or white.
Talkers to non-talkers,
The walkers, joggers, and runners.
The sane-- maybe, to the insane or not so sane,
The upper, middle, and lower classes.

Single, married, divorced or separated. 
Every nationality, creed, and colour,
People bearing children, have children, or childless.
The homeless to those with plenty. 
The wicket to the angelic. 

The old, the young, and the middle-aged.
The strong and the weak,
The timid to the fighters.
Disabled, abled to the not so abled,
Unemployed, employed to the entrepreneurs.

The bad, the good, and the plain evil.
The sleepers, wakers, and the living dead,
Some have a religion, some do not, some have politics, some do not.
All have different likes and dislikes,
All striving to get to their distinctions.

So, who is this people watcher?
This person who watches, but does not speak,
This person who does not judge people. 
Who does this people watcher think they are?
That people watcher is me!


Author Bio:
​Lisa Jane Marazzoli was born in Glasgow, Scotland, in 1970 and grew up in the east end with her two older sisters and her parents. Her passion for the arts came from her mother, an art teacher and her father, a photographer. Her writing is deeply personal, and reflects the influences that have shaped her life.