Original poems, spoken word pieces, and lyrics from our contributors.

  • Path of Death,  Poetry,  Series,  Vic Stanley

    Day 36: No Authority

    We’re on the road with Christ | Dust on our feet | Nothing to eat | Nowhere to lay our heads, no sleep. Coded pattern of speech that the goats can’t breach | Told them slatterns this king brings hope to thee | Us folks will shatter the dreams of these “popes” to be. They’re puppets on a string with no authority. . .

  • Poetry


    Written by R.A. Loyd   Perhaps madmen belong in caves wherein the Lord receives them tenderly with mercies unknown to a shaking, howling, blasphemous generation.   A mist on the concrete is three oceans to the hermit; the branch of oak is a sight of two colors; to the ascetic it is ninety proverbs.   Every game and trial is lowercase theology to the itinerant monk, whereupon the body is a constant altar, a legged Israel, a country of praise.      

  • Poetry,  Vic Stanley

    Heavenly. . .

    Written by Victor Stanley Jr.   Dope game, I’ve seen it all Seen the rise plus I’ve seen the falls, Heart full of hate I’ve seen them on those corners squeezing off (guns) Heart full of love I’ve seen it get taken advantage of I’ve seen the pain Plus I’ve seen the change Good girls end up jaded Good boys end up chasing that paper They all get whored out Ced’ told me “Life got us all Vic, no hold outs” I’m spitting it quicker You gotta realize there’s more to these pictures It’s hurt in these words Written by a mind that’s disturbed I see the troubles of the…

  • Poetry,  Vic Stanley


    Written by Victor Stanley Jr.   Ran from the game then I came back Askin’ “Where the pain at?” Look dog I gotta change that From the sorrow to the joy and These cats wanna make all this noise To shut out the fear, in the silence that they’re trying to avoid Maneuvers employed to build and destroy is a false theology No life in that ecology I murdered the dichotomy That had my hands in evil, my thoughts in love, But my plans deceitful, The plug and the grams illegal Love for my mans but this clan will eat you, Watch life defeat you I was snatched from the…

  • Poetry,  Vic Stanley

    Paper Chayse

    Written by Victor Stanley Jr.       Who knew, that these cats would do things Business as usual Covert operations before they showed they’re true blue We was raised to peep the imposters, No use for boo hoos We play the game proper I see ya baby You looking real eager baby Why don’t you come step on the blocka, I hustled streets from South Beach to D.C.’s Northeast, Pulling through Chicago’s South Side Backroads of Indiana Slang laced with Virginia grammar Cali cats holding hammers Plug in Pittsburg Philly cats in Lynchburg Bmore whores and Richmond chores Mtown doors and Pdub wards I really did it, really lived…