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Fear And Loathing In West Yorkshire

Amel Bashford·June 3, 2019

Fear And Loathing In West Yorkshire written by: Amel Bashford Doctor doctor I need your help I...

English Poetry

·1 min read

The Drugs Are Working

Robyn MacKinnon·April 28, 2019

The Drugs Are Working written by: Robyn MacKinnon @art_rat I’ve Pavloved myself to endure another day the...

Robyn Finds Poetry Robyn MacKinnon Poetry English

·1 min read

Over Medicating

Hayley Burwood·April 15, 2019

Over Medicating written by: Hayley Burwood @Hayleyburwood2 Doctors of all kinds, prescribe drugs like sweets Being over...

Poetry English

·1 min read

Wounded Soldier

Willie E. Davis Jr.·April 10, 2019

Wounded Soldier written by: Willie E. Davis Jr. aka Willskillz The Poet I was working in the field!...

Poetry English

·1 min read

Cold Medicine Induced Dreams

Robyn MacKinnon·February 4, 2018

Cold Medicine Induced Dreams found poetry written by: Robyn MacKinnon @art_rat adapted to the Cold medicine induced...

Robyn Finds Poetry Robyn MacKinnon Poetry English

·1 min read

Pill

Polly Oliver·May 20, 2017

Pill written by: Polly Oliver Snap, crackle, pop. Little white pill comes round and ready As a...

English Poetry

·1 min read

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After a long career tinkering in telecommunications, Jim Bartlett switched to tinkering with writing fiction, both requiring a stretch of the imagination. In the course of putting his fingers to the keyboard, he's been fortunate to have quite a number of his stories featured both in print and online in several wonderful publications, including a story selected for "The Best of Fiction on the Web, 1996 – 2017" anthology. While mentally he strolls along a warm California beach with his wife and golden retriever (shhh, she doesn't know she's a dog), physically they reside on a special little island in the Pacific Northwest.

Reaper by Sharon Frame Gay

As an orphaned son of an orphan, I always see the glass as half empty. I picture the water murky and lukewarm, a waterline etched below the rim. Maybe with an ash or two floating at the bottom, because that’s what I do for a living. I deal with ashes. The remains of the deceased. No matter how those who pass away see their glass, meager or full, they eventually end up in a satchel carried on my shoulder.
My business card reads “Morton Stark Transport.” I’m called upon to disperse the ashes of the dearly departed and honor their final wishes. People hire me to escort the remains throughout the world ...

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medication

Fear And Loathing In West Yorkshire

The Drugs Are Working

Over Medicating

Wounded Soldier

Cold Medicine Induced Dreams

Pill

To Grandmother’s House

The Visit

Hymn Of The Eternal Feast

Naughty Or Nice

A Little Book About Trees – by Tim Burr

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