Not For Profit/For Prophecy

The Best Of A Bad Situation – Jamie Thrasivoulou

The Best Of A Bad Situation – by Jamie Thrasivoulou

– poetry collection published by Silhouette Press

Jamie Thrasivoulou has seen the zeitgeist and, to be honest, he’s disgusted. These poems are translators of tarmac, asphalt whisperers, mediators of a sonic correspondence between broken hearts and broken promises, busted causeways and lost causes, high hopes fallen down and low-roads taken up. One of the greatest sights in contemporary poetry is to witness Jamie Thrasivoulou explode these poems on an unsuspecting audience. Let’s call it the truth, let’s call it word and testimony, let’s call it the salvo and the salve, let’s call it what it is. ‘The Best Of A Bad Situation’ is the most urgent, vital collection of poetry you will read all year. This is gonna hurt you much more than it will Jamie, but it’s a word-surgery that the body and mind require. Don’t thank the man, he doesn’t want nor need it. Just buy this book, read it, imbibe it’s blood-spirit and turn your life over to the justice and insistences of its restorative frequencies.

– Miggy Angel, author of ‘Grime Kerbstone Psalms’

Continue reading “The Best Of A Bad Situation – Jamie Thrasivoulou”

“Tell me what you know.” – by Jonathan Taylor

the following story contains content relating to self-harm which could be triggering to some readers


“Tell me what you know.”


“I don’t know anything.”

            “Tell me how you feel then.”

            “Honestly, I don’t feel anything. Please. Please don’t. Fucking hell. Please don’t do that.” Continue reading ““Tell me what you know.” – by Jonathan Taylor”

Place Waste Dissent – Paul Hawkins

Between the years 1990 – ’93, the poet Paul Hawkins was squatter/occupier/protestor in one of the most contested of spaces in the U.K.’s recent and past history of place-and-occupancy wars. Claremont Road, in London’s East End, was an occupied site and scene for the protests of the ‘No M11 Link Road Campaign’. Paul Hawkins was there, and has documented what took place in his book, Place Waste Dissent, published by Influx Press.

In the foreword to the book, Alice Nutter refers to Claremont Road as ‘the symbol of resistance to the road-building programme of the early ’90s’ – Place Waste Dissent operates not only as flame held close as intimate torchlight illuminating that symbol, but as intravenous entry point into the sign itself. An immersive invocation of the sign and the times it symbolises, a border-shamanic reanimation act that brings Claremont Road back breathing bleeding spitting and bounding into the now. Into the Now that requires reckoning with what was and is still its Then.




Continue reading “Place Waste Dissent – Paul Hawkins”

‘Hush’ by Kate Berwanger



Our girls walk with their hands in their pockets. Arms over bellies.

Slip through this city.


Stay soft, our girls are told. Stay quiet.


Our girls who drop their chins and gazes as they pass your boys.

Your boys who smile like they’ve never known sadness. Continue reading “‘Hush’ by Kate Berwanger”

5 Poems by Laura Secord

Firewoman Shimmies at Canyon Mouth Park


Your hair—slicked flame spikes. You built this blaze

beside the shoals to mirror their brash shine.


Scavenging downed wood along the water’s edge,

collecting branches up the pass— sunshine’s spring splurge—


our daughters found tangled nests— driftwood globes—

balled stakes, stems, moss and trash—fuel for fire shine. Continue reading “5 Poems by Laura Secord”

‘DST’ by Rebecca Parker




Continue reading “‘DST’ by Rebecca Parker”

‘Sad’ by Lica B Browne



Sad inside from outside

Bad outside now bad inside

Want to help outside, but can’t help inside

Should I start outside without inside?

Should I start inside and leave outside?

Very sad inside, want to leave outside, want to stay inside.. Continue reading “‘Sad’ by Lica B Browne”

‘First Class Stamp’ by Nick Black

First Class Stamp


Terence Stamp in ‘Far From The Madding Crowd’, that’s who I think of as the doctor pokes about my ancient lady bits. Terence Stamp in his cavalry outfit on a hillside, jacket red as rose hip. It’s a nicer picture, that, than the top of this doctor’s head, all mottled like the backs of my hands. No, it’s worse, more like the bottom of a teacup with the floaty bits left. He wants to be careful with that. Continue reading “‘First Class Stamp’ by Nick Black”

‘Year 1’ by Shae Davies

I woke up thinking of you,

and the word, Komorebi

Japanese, for the light

that filters through the trees


I woke up and thought of the sunshine I found

in your arms

in your eyes


Year 1.1

Continue reading “‘Year 1’ by Shae Davies”

3 Poems & An Interview With Poet Amee Nassrene Broumand

The Sandpipers


It’s time for a ghost story—now,

while opalescent giants, dark-robed, stride

over us, hair blazing with the night

to come—

they imagine themselves

masked, bejeweled, descending

to the asylum window. The inmate’s lament—


They came in the night and stole my head.

What did they do with it? My old green head. Continue reading “3 Poems & An Interview With Poet Amee Nassrene Broumand”

4 Poems by Joseph Ridgwell

Britain’s Most Wanted


It was while opening a package from the States

That it happened

The package contained the artwork to my latest novel

Burrito Deluxe

By Calif’s finest

Jose Arroyo

Holed up and rolling with the punches

East of East LA

The artwork was perfect for

The novel and nobody but Arroyo could’ve come up with it


But as I stood there admiring the creation

Britain’s Most Wanted

Came on the television

A list and faces of UK’s most wanted criminals

And the shock when I heard the name

And looked up

And there on my television

In High Definition

Was the hero of my novel

The inspiration and catalyst to

Everything that had happened

On our great Mexican adventure

The man who once said the creation of a myth

Was the only thing he was interested in

And that if you join them, you will always be at odds with them

And everything they stand for

And there he was on the run

Still running free

And laughing at the sun

Long may he run. Continue reading “4 Poems by Joseph Ridgwell”

‘Just Pull It Out’ by Peter Jordan

Just Pull It Out


The doctor was getting younger, by the minute. And I kept telling him I recognized him from somewhere.

The more I sucked on the gas the more I knew him, and the younger he got. When I’d first come in he was middle-aged. Now he was early twenties. We’d shared an experience together, we were good mates, didn’t he know that?

There was sweat on his forehead, his top lip.

He looked to the nurse. ‘We need to call a surgeon.’ Continue reading “‘Just Pull It Out’ by Peter Jordan”

3 Poems by Rob Plath

bloody phantom planet


ghosts aren’t


or made of strange



look around


every occupied





ghosts are


of meat Continue reading “3 Poems by Rob Plath”

3 Poems by Patrick Williams

The Greatest Critical Apparatus


Can public imagination,

not public



realize explosions


are rewarding

for survival? Continue reading “3 Poems by Patrick Williams”

‘my body is not my body’ by Nadia Gerassimenko

my body is not my body


when i’m held mouth wide open, blood oozing, dreading your extraction of part of my body. i’m only six. i’m not asleep. i never forgot.

i’m eighteen. adult, or so they say. part of my body breaks so more space is filled with you & all you carry. it hurts. in retrospect, it always hurt. it always will. Continue reading “‘my body is not my body’ by Nadia Gerassimenko”

5 Poems by Rus Khomutoff

Untitled (for Andre Breton)


Nostalgic sentiments and new wave nocturnes

intersecting in a normal chaos of life

an hourglass of neglected affinities

idols of saturated phenomena

night of filth, night of flowers

the aporia of revelation Continue reading “5 Poems by Rus Khomutoff”

2 Poems by Tahnee Flaws

A Critique on the Self-Portrait


I am alone now,

Seven years from the girl

I used to be.


The last clear identity

Known to my shaking heart Continue reading “2 Poems by Tahnee Flaws”

The Pool by Orawan Cassidy

The Pool


The water in the pool

was not the same blue

when summer faded.


Colors of autumn

was a confusion–

when green became brown.


Waves of the wind,

Reflection of emotion,

unable to be translated. Continue reading “The Pool by Orawan Cassidy”

3 Poems by Gary Carr

An Expenditure of Munitions


Twenty-seven orphans

cleaning and oiling,

polishing up their rifles. Continue reading “3 Poems by Gary Carr”

‘Jem’ by Kate Jones



‘Bet I can climb to the top’, Jem Mason says, round blue eyes burning in a sun-touched, freckled face. We all stare up at the roof of the almost finished house.

‘No way,’ Cory Sullivan says.

‘Bet you three strawberry laces I can,’ Jem says, already pacing towards the gates of the building site.

The bet was on. Continue reading “‘Jem’ by Kate Jones”

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