When one of the biggest Creatives on WordPress asks you if you would like to collaborate with him, you do it. Not to mention the fact that you’ve been a fan of their unique work for years and you had a slight heart-attack watching your work come to life in his hands. Below, you’ll find the collaboration between Peter of Little Fears and me.
Karma opened the blinds to her dorm room, signaling the sun’s rays to drape her in its warmth. Classes had resumed. Summer break was now a thing of the past. She had her assignments, her books, other supplies, and her boyfriend’s heart.
What would he do without her at home now that she’s traveled back to finish her last year of college? Under his mattress was a letter. In it, she’d written:
“I told you not to fall for me. I only wanted your heart. Now, that I have it, you have nothing.”
Poor Jesse, his life was full of bad karma.
*View the piece in its entirety, including the incredible audio-visual formatting from Peter by clicking the link below.
*Barry and I have been collaborating for about a decade. If I think it, he can bring it to life. If he starts something, I can usually finish it. We have meshed well for such a long time that I was beyond myself with glee to finally see him get active on Medium. Every time we work together, it is fun to see where we are in our work at that moment. He is a great Writer and a dope fiend.
Survivors write and contribute art of their survival in this Anthology. All proceeds will benefit a great cause. It would be great to live in a world where something like this isn’t needed, but… that isn’t our reality.
Even the most subtle hint of creating change can bring out the beasts of the world. An army can obliterate them. The problem is, we don’t have enough people willing to don his or her armor to fight for what’s right in the open when the light is perfectly set. Fear is a mongrel, steadfast when it has a target. “Stand up for something or fall for anything.”
sits real calm-like next
to Daddy, puffs out a heap of
smoke and says, “Gotta make a decision, Tony.
We bulldozing through this city block
with or without your consent.”
I watch Daddy’s eyes turn cold,
he can’t sit, can’t stand, he just
looks frozen in time.
the man in the perfect hat
pats my Daddy’s leg once, then
lifts himself from our porch swing, a trail of smoke follows him
down the block, connecting his
lies as it forms.
Daddy gives me a quick smile,
reassuring me.
he isn’t a big man, short and thin. he looks like time swaying in
the breeze, waiting for a lifeboat
that’s never coming his way.
he tells me that the Big Wigs
are making us move, taking our
home from up under us.
“We got thirty days, Pumpkin.”
and, I don’t know where
we gonna go, but I hear my
Mom’s soul sigh
in the dead of night.
if she was still alive, she’d cut that man in the perfect hat
with her words and tell him
where he can stick his ideas.
A strip mall.
that’s what they’re building.
fifteen homes on our block
and three on the next will
be demolished in a matter of days.
I sit and think of that smoke
and how it followed the man
in the perfect hat and I wonder if it’s gonna come
back without him one day
and liberate us.
thirty days to go and no new home in view wanting to stay knowing it’s time to leave sights set on tomorrow
get a new home that fit our porch swing a patch of dirt to grow bundles of greens
mom’s energy nearby
while i pick and pull from the stems
she keeps a watchful eye over me
while i soak and rinse in the kitchen sink
dandelions in the kitchen window
daddy’s head hangs over the daily news
we beat the thirty days
we walk at our pace
no new development looming near.
daddy gives me that quick smile
a sway in the breeze, he stands
on a sunday afternoon
a dream memory of my mom, she stands beside us
in between
daddy washes his hands and opens the oven door
our home smells of roasting meat
that time, mom had me snapping fresh peas our family, as whole as can be
before
home was home, our yard had a tree swing
lay mom to rest, our three turned into a two all our memories stuffed into a one bedroom
daddy on the sofa i have a door with a window view of a toxic factory
maybe, a strip mall in our place
won’t be so bad
mom would have the paper preparing for our new home.
i smile daddy’s quick smile, turn to the real estate section we sit in the sun
i reassure him this time
dream big enough for us both sure we won’t see the man with the perfect hat
gone before he returns
it is time and we will go
Because this cause should not be ignored. Make your voices heard, known, and felt. Those of you willing yourselves beyond fear with much to say, this is your chance.
Midnight, Monday 15th October is the deadline for submitting art/writing/poetry, this is an important, very timely project at a critical stage in history, your voices need to be heard!
Bruised But Not Broken, Whisper and the Roar, Indie Blu(e), and Blood Into Ink are joining forces to publish an anthology about the lived experience of sexual harassment and assault. We believe that it is more important than ever before that more voices speak out and reclaim their strength by owning their survival stories. All contributors, female and male, can submit up to three pieces of creative work- these can include; Poetry, Prose, Essay, Short Fiction, Prose, or original Artwork, but should be limited in length (under 1,000 words) considering that this is an anthology. You will be notified if your work is accepted. Please do not consider nonacceptance as any diminishment of your experience, but as with any publishing venture…
A Cornered Gurl 
You must be logged in to post a comment.