“I want you to understand, once I agree to do this, if I agree to do this, that's it, there's no turning back.” “Of course, I understand. It's just as important to me that you are serious and will follow through with this.” “Let's go over it again, just so we are on the same …
Where are all the mouthy fringe dwellers, the genius goofballs, shadow whisperers, smart weirdos and weird smart-asses? We want literary magicians, word mavens, thought tazers, love bombers, in-ya-facers, opinionators and soul soothers.
Bring us your fare, your fiercely fictitious and flirtatiously factual, powerful prose, profound poetry and razored non-fiction; literary libations to intoxicate the masses.
We’re looking for regular contributors who’ve harnessed (or released) their literary prowess, who command their words or are possessed by them. You’ll join a hand-picked team of exquisitely articulate artists committed to sculpting a fascination and passion for literature and art.
Send us your succulent samplings here: moralityparksubmissions@gmail.com
Please include a link to your blog or website and a little snippet about yourself along with your submission.
MP Editor
Maggie Lawson
We used to dance In Harpers Ferry We used to sing And dream out loud But it’s all quiet now Since they hung John Brown And I'm never gonna leave There’s no queen anymore And the rivers all run dry It’s so hot down here Since the winters last good bye …
The door opens. “Oh my god, the smell is horrible.” “I told you, I didn't know what to do with it.” “Christ, how long ago did you kill him?” “Four days.” “And what? You're just gonna let him sit there and stink the place up?” “OK smart guy, you tell me, what the hell do …
I have seen an old woman Sitting in a rocking chair The warmth of the desert sun Shining on her through the front window Surrounded by her children, grandchildren, great grandchildren, friends The smile on her face as she basks in the beauty of her life's work In her eyes, not a glimmer of regret …
Fucking mirror. I have no desire to look at myself right now. But I can’t help but look. Each time, for just a moment during the approach, maybe, maybe this time, something will be different. But it’s not. It’s all the same. I can’t find a way to get away from this, it’s always the …
I may smile at you But it stops there I don't have much To give you Some words Nothing much at all There are spaces between The cracks in this shell If you look through They are warm and pleading For a hand to grasp To pull me from this place I don't …
