voices from white trash

There​ ​they​ ​were
standing​ ​face​ ​to​ ​face.
Sometimes​ ​she​ ​sees​ ​the​ ​echos​ ​of​ ​them
before
The​ ​fighting​ ​and​ ​fucking​ ​and​ ​pills
Before​ ​the​ ​isms​ ​took​ ​them​ ​both
Sometimes
They​ ​are​ ​children​ ​again
Eating​ ​sickly​ ​ripe​ ​mulberries
Carefully​ ​perched​ ​on​ ​the​ ​lowest​ ​limb
The​ ​bells​ ​of​ ​the​ ​laughter
At​ ​the​ ​treasure​ ​found
new​ ​each​ ​day
Such​ ​sweet​ ​delights
Spring​ ​days​ ​on​ ​front​ ​porches
Watching​ ​the​ ​western​ ​sky
Eyes​ ​like​ ​telescopes
Seeing​ ​the​ ​storm​ ​coming​ ​in
The​ ​sweet​ ​smell​ ​of​ ​rain​ ​and​ ​hail
Watching​ ​lightning​ ​strike​ ​over​ ​mesquite​ ​trees
The​ ​thunder​ ​ripping​ ​through​ ​flesh
Those​ ​days​ ​when​ ​all​ ​she​ ​was​ ​was​ ​a​ ​guardian
A​ ​protector​ ​a​ ​mother
Wiping​ ​the​ ​tears​ ​from​ ​her​ ​dirty​ ​cheeks
Doing​ ​the​ ​best​ ​she​ ​could
Fist​ ​bawled​ ​and​ ​wet​ ​with​ ​sweat
​ ​ready​ ​to​ ​take​ ​on​ ​the​ ​world
For​ ​just​ ​the​ ​two​ ​of​ ​them
Those​ ​faces​ ​now​ ​are​ ​distorted
Mangled
Gnarled​ ​and​ ​calloused
They​ ​are​ ​old​ ​and​ ​worn​ ​down
Wrinkled
Too​ ​many​ ​fights
Too​ ​many​ ​fucks
Too​ ​many​ ​pills
Too​ ​many​ ​isms
Too​ ​many​ ​phobias
Love​ ​forgotten
Deeds​ ​lost
Disgust
Pity
Decadent​ ​loathing​ ​is​ ​all​ ​that​ ​is​ ​left
Fists​ ​flying​ ​toward​ ​faces​ ​and​ ​torsos
Words​ ​hurling​ ​through​ ​the​ ​air
Always​ ​catastrophic
Always​ ​climatic
They​ ​will​ ​never​ ​see​ ​each​ ​other​ ​again
Until​ ​they​ ​do

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lr’s son

Light melting through the blue slats
Red lights and sirens
Watching to say we care
But really we are just perverts
degenerates
The drama unfolding across the street
Two men in suspenders carrying him to the stretcher
“Shit at least it wasn’t anything crazy…just another overdose…”
Yeah…
“I wonder if the dealer gave her a sympathy high for her ol’ man overdosing….”

the big bad aunt

i can feel the teeth
of the unliberated lesbian
snapping at my neck
snarling cracking crunching
jaws like a hippo
drops of spittle and hatred
acidic to the soul
your prison is of your own making
you are your own bondage
but my freedom is not yours to toy with
i release myself from your wrath
go fuck yourself with a butter knife and leave me alone

Brand new shoes

Snarling teeth bared for everyone to see

No pretending

No apologies 

Just hatefulness animosity callousness 

Cold sting of the high altitude 

Leaving me afraid of your rabid behavior 

Nowhere to run

Nowhere to hide

Left to the devices of those wanting extermination

Of me and all my kind

Now I shall be baptized into the mist

Junkies

children

Swimming through the rivers

Of blood and poppy mists

Strung out tied up fucked off

Blueprinted into disaster

Burning and broken

Bones cracking mutilaton

horror illuminated 

Gasping for air

A heart beating out of control

Little legs aching to run 

Fingers desperate and undefined

Comfort just out of reach

Always hungry for more

This is no life for them 

Mourn them before breath

A sweet death

Is humane 

time loops

there he was
anthony
stumbling, falling in slow motion
always the memories
632 kills in 8 years
statistics for the ages
memories to pass to children
daddy falling out of the window
he wears the ring
the solider’s ring
the heaviest of metals
with polished gems
words of victory and valor
engraved like the 10 commandments
he drinks to remember who he was
before afghanistan
he’s out of the killing business
but he still wears the ring

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 thefreiartcooperative@gmail.com 

thanks-grace