'Who am I' she asks : A creative explosion of paradoxical remarks the student replied.


Slice of Pie



How emotions get the better hold of us, I’ve always thought
I’d see it coming but it catches me by surprise
at every turn, I begin to think it can’t be possible and yet still
you persist in my thoughts. “I’ve got to stop now,” I say
so, until time brings you closer again.



The state of being
happy, goes so fast. It turns weeks into
seconds only, as if you could see hence a foreword
to the good things.
The preclude makes it bearable that way, in the
meanwhile, all the while we live
day by day.



Those nights seem infinite, when you’re feeling
restless. Missing out on all the universal signs, you’d think
it’d be more clear cut. The night is impassive to your search, it says
a change is to come by confused winds.
Dispelled by the morning light; have you found it yet?
What you were looking for.



“Would you rather
I take away
The pain
Of memories
Or the pain
Of your denial?
Would it make it better
To forget
Than to care,
For once
Can you stand
The chance you took
And hold
Onto your losses.”

A Classical

What drew me first of course, was the design
Tattooed on his temple, following the numerous imprinted jewels
He set as stone into his face
Punctuated by the girth of his rings, I had thought, “those must pack a punch.”
And even entertained to comment had he not been
Otherwise muted by his headphones
For no other reason than this tangible compulsion I felt
To ask instead, “May I listen to your headphones?”
Hoping you would not decline,
You ask why?
“On the off chance that you’re listening to classical, I might have judged you wrongly.”
Gamely thing to say, I applauded myself with the swell of wit
Diminishing as your retrieving figure stood at the corner
Of the intersection while I crossed the road
Out of the corner of my eye I saw as the bus rode past
You embracing another dark figure
Go figure, I thought, “that’s a classic.”
I finally said aloud



What say you the firmest affirmation of
Affection due, if not to dance as if one
All the more, cannot contain reason
In becoming infatuated with you;
‘I dare say you will find him quite amiable’
Under modest supposition, perhaps
It is a loss of steady senses, within right
The amalgamation of musical souls justly
Defines dance.



Accost me not, she swears

My feelings are not in fact


By this mental belligerence

Fleeting incoherence

Of young’ins

Will knock, soon enough

Galvanized youth

Exists in you too

Letter to Mr. Bartender

Drunken passages tend to sum mate the

Details derived from

Bold conjectures,

It is your cue now

Lest we form a sense of espionage;

Release my estimates, for who so

Ever favors our own esteemed self


The patron of our minds never won that way

For ‘few are brave enough to fall in love,

Without proper encouragement’

Image result for black and white photography bartender

Mum’s The Word

In light of everything that has been happening around in the world (quite distressing – no comment as a Canadian), I took a moment instead to think about what exact source of entertainment we use, most eligible to be quoted as a ‘waste of time’.

As a perfectionist, I tend to feel bad about mindless menageries on my days off. As if I had better things to check off my list than morphing my cats into karma sutra yoga poses on my lap.

I really think they enjoy it.

This thought of mindless entertainment was first prompted when I read amongst all the blast of newsfeed going around the internet about the apparent Armageddon just rustling south of my country. Yet just along the side columns, also trending were titles such as:

Pokemon Go : How to successfully swap with your neighbors without losing (I want to say distance, but clearly I wasn’t reading this too closely)”

This was accompanied by,

The 840th chapter of world renowned manga seriesinsert name –honest to god, I should pay more attention – whether, let’s call him Puki will be forced to marry, we’ll call her Lucy in the Pirate’s home in, let’s just finish with Edel Island.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is the prime time distraction of our time.

Serious topics at hand, I thought about my mother’s singular contribution to this vortex of aforementioned notable news when we were at the pet store.

“I think I ought to get a turtle as a playmate.”

I just told her to make sure not to put the tank beside her windows too long.

“Why’s that?”

“They’ll roast in their tank, that’s why.”

“Oh, really?”

I love my mom, I do.

Guess you can’t say no to that.

Now let’s try putting it atop a water bottle and watch them flail.

*No animal abuse is perpetuated. Mental distraught is not nearly as high on mortality rates. Worst thing we’ll do is make turtle soup – but only after the natural phenomenon of combining concentrated sun rays and modern glass, in which case, cause of death is surely by natural means.

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celeste lee cloud

writer & artist

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