submissions for the frei art cooperative

we are looking for submissions: poetry, short stories, articles!   if you are an indie artist we would love to hear from you!

we have several projects going on right now.

the contritions of the phoenix zine that focuses on indie art (visual, written, musical) and social commentary that sheds light on classism, queer related issues,the environment, sexism as well as global events.  we also like jokes-a lot of jokes.

wild flowers for eric is a zine that focuses on mental illness.  we are looking for stories, art, music that brings mental illnesses to the forefront in order to help people understand the struggle of living with mental illness, loving someone who has a mental illness and hopefully how to navigate through society to find help.  all the proceeds will be going to a family who lost a husband/father to suicide.

and the topic is…a panel of individuals from varying backgrounds all presenting their side of a different queer related topic every month.

we want to present a wide variety of artists!  if you have art, stories, articles, rants, reviews, comics, music, etc that you would like to submit please email 



that one kid over there

the scars on forearms

shimmering under the fluorescent lights

shining bright scarlet

illuminating white

with each gasp for air

eyes rolled back

tormented ecstasy

insanity is the only safe place

for tongues twisted and forked

lies on lies on lies on lies on lies

legos and lincoln logs

playing jenga through the window

the aftermath of the afternoon

when the monsters come out to dance

to the wailing and screaming

your voice is their heartbeat

whispers to gods

foreign and unknown

they don’t dwell with you

in the hovel of inhumanity

hold the gospels in your thoughts

pray for a salvation

the cynical ghosts your only tie to laughter

where you are, dear child, is nowhere

in the quiet the demons cackle

in the tranquil the liars prowl

in the zen reliving rape and pillage

in the calm the evil crawls

sweet dreams

sleep tight

hope to never see daylight


*trigger warning* sunshine on my face

i thought we had been carved of stone

one power, three goddesses

it was a romantic thought

 daydream, a silly wish on a silly star

how could i be a me alone

there was no me-only us

or that is what was whispered in my ear

frantic phone calls, sirens

holidays celebrated under suicide watch

getting  naked, tweaked-out mom into the car

calls from jails

calls from friends

calls from doctors

calls from children

fist fights

broken bones

blood, sweat, guts and tears

promises made then discarded

no honor among the deluded

coming into my home

wearing queer-phobia proudly

like a halston design pill hat

calculating, judging with unearned arrogance

looking as if shit was smeared on your upper lip

repossession of presents and pictures

decades of begging, pleading, bribing, stealing

i am mutilated and monsterous

begging for validation left my knees bleeding

then thaumaturgy! magic realizations:

love is not a chain tethering to ensure outcome

home is not an asylum with fear hiding in shadows

and there is the triple divinity that has always lived inside


earthquakes and riverbeds

one day i heard

a prophet on the street-corner

talking of legacy

he was gnarled and twisted

he was missing a front tooth

and the other hung by a string

flapping like a flag in rhythm

he was a white fellow

with skin that looked painful

worn and exposed to the elements too long

he had on an old army jacket

and was missing his left arm

his beard had become a hiding place

for crumbs and leaves and sticky things

i think he was one of the people

i should have been scared of

i wasn’t afraid

i was, however, intrigued

the gentleman was having a heated debate

and the other participant was invisible

the main topic of discussion

centered around

foot-prints made by him v foot-steps made by others

i missed half of the conversation

i never heard the argument mr. invisible made

but the guru said profound and exciting statements

his foot-prints were left in many different countries

he was following the foot-steps of great generals

his foot-prints moved borders

changed histories

rearranged families

the trail he blazed, he blazed well

he could make a mother fall to her knees

and beg and plead and barter

he could make the ground shake

men could bleed and scream

by his prescence

he had changed worlds

he had been a god

and those mothers, children, fathers

the people living near his path of flames

would pray to him, begging for mercy

lighting candles in his name

mr. invisible had been outwitted

and went to stir up another wasp nest

somewhere, anywhere else

the man who had become a god and returned as a man

looked at me

there were rivers flowing from his eyes

he asked if i had any change to spare

i gave him all the cash in my purse

he had just followed in the foot-steps of others

and fell from grace

the advocate pathway of loving the bipolar

i have taken this path so many times

i can close my eyes, running the obstacle course

the manholes, the cracks in the sidewalk, curves

the zippy zappy trail to the middle of nowhere

running just to find my sense of direction stolen

i loathe this path and all that comes with it

the broken brambles beneath my feet

where i had charted through for decades

each time telling myself that is the last time

yet time and time and time again

it’s off to the races, who can get there quickest

a competition with no other adversary, just myself

i do believe i am the worst villain of them all

internal promises broken, treaties and compromises

swept to the side, shoved in a closet, pushed under the bed

a trail of sickness twirling around ending at the beginning

surrounded and bound by blood chains and history

to walk the trail with no escape propelled by guilt

rest stops and potty breaks leering suspiciously suspicious

i have five minutes than it’s finnegan begin again down the path

one day i will break the cycle, no longer twisted and pulled tight

the ups and downs, the hills created by the emotions of others

her mania and depression will level out, and the path will let me go

until that day comes i am destined and determined to conquer

the only one left still standing, the only one left to beat




things sting

the emotional torment


suicide attempts

black out

refusing to take the medications

another wave beating the rock

into a submissive pebble

breaking it down on a molecular level

taking it’s value and substance

releasing it vastly into the world

i mean

isn’t it supposed to be that way

just leave all this still intact

no matter what your reason

for losing matter

doesn’t make you matter less

if it was stolen in the night

or given like a cheap whore for a quick buck

the loss of it is there

crying in a void in deep

crevices and culvert ditches

a quiet shaking, a shiver

through all of humanity

the consequences great

to the actions and reactions

of the elemental compounds

ingested, digested, misdirected

by you and your insecurities

shaking generations at the core

the tide drawn by the lunatic stages

the moon and her cronies

making a standing ovation

at your presence, applauding

with zealous fashioning

to the existence of you

dam the world

contain and box the wild

the waves against rocks

splitting it open

exposing all the gooey middle

like a cadbury egg left in the sun

the foil burnt into the shell

and the guts flowing out

in corn syrup globs

it’s not ok, it’s not alright

it is the reconstructing of universes

multi-verses in your image

atomic bombs of gigantic proportion

on personal scales of growth

and love and peace and options

it is the strip mining of the soul

leaving barren wasteland

but a beautiful sunset