With feeling this Time – OldePunk

Carotid artery mistakes Incisive, this empty Crawl is all I can do When God was on The face of the deep, I was under him A darkness indescribable, Without form Let there be light Writhe inconsequential Need for nothing lost Feel summons to whom I belong Calling, chattering never(always) silent No words, no structure, incessant…

Just Words – Jack Neece

I am the girl ripped open Insides out I am the breakdown The tattered remnants of promises to be brave I made only last week I am blood shot eyes and acid clawing I am eggshells and razor blades I am numb and raw I am efficient and lost I am crying and I don’t…

Survival – Megha Sood

Have you noticed the slow cleaving in my backbone? the seamless transformation the branching into my thousand self like a sapling breaking out from the blind seed. I’m sprouting I am growing breaking out of this cocoon. Growing like a medusa this fecundity of myself breaking out into the thousands version of me morphing into…

Apollo’s Wolves – Allister Nelson

Murder, cold, written like fingernails that splintered off under weirwood, through fairy stones, see witch’s mark. Only a deal with the Devil speaks truth. Death’s gall she wrote, death’s sword she spoke. And the haints were close, and the bells closed in, and that wicked pianoman with his smuggler’s fingers plinked out a melody like…

coin on the soft tip of my tongue – Tianna G. Hansen

last night I danced with Death again an infinite waltz of conflicting desires She looked at me expectantly with one hand outstretched for the taking, an offering; Seduction. I wanted to allow her to wrap me in that death robe cover my eyes and drop a coin on the soft tip of my tongue. Promise…

The Sins of My Father – Christine E. Ray

I have always been a dreamer. Waking hours filled with daydreams of a younger, more vibrant self living other, more exotic lives that take the edge off the stupor of middle-age suburbia. Sleeping hours filled with images of places I have been before that morph and change, nightmarish Wonderlands, and places I have never been…

Dis-ease by HLR

The air in doctor’s waiting rooms is green. You can see it, if you look around properly. The air is shamrock green and hangs heavy with plague. You feel it on your skin, the bacteria, crawling. You breathe in disease. The door handles, the plastic seats, the anti-bacterial hand gel dispenser: riddled. A man’s cough…

Beautiful Things – Jamie Lynn Martin

I used to think that all things beautiful meant it never saw the inside of a devils heart. Beautiful things aren’t singed with markings of his storm. They don’t stitch their spine with caution tape, beautiful things don’t cry. I often cry, but my tears are made of falling daggers gearing up for battle. I…

Core Membership If you are interested in being a core member of Heretics, Lovers, and Madmen, please send us an email at (heretics.lovers.madmen@gmail.com) with a sample of three (3) pieces of your writing (poem, prose, essay, script, short fiction, spoken word) so we can get a feel for the fit.  Your sample pieces can be previously published….

Halloween Synopsis – Rachael Ikins

A poet wrote me today: your words shine with a tinge of purple iridescence. I held the door for a turquoise faerie princess, or maybe she was a queen in the foyer of Barnes and Noble. I ‘d just left the eye doctor’s. My new glasses perched on my nose, my eyes darting like twin…