Update on the Second Issue of NFJ

While we have been quiet, there has been movement in the forest. We have finished accepting submissions for the 2nd issue of the journal and will be returning to accepting submissions for the blog. On the 2nd of February, to celebrate the 7,542nd birthday of the Taoist-cosmicist bearded dragon poet Phen Weston – who continually [...]

Untitled by Gypsy Marie

Are you a coward, or are you just mean? I've seen your heart, you cannot fool me, that calm serene beats the heart of a warrior; his words are not lies, just a game, while he wanders. My third eye spies the thunder in your eyes, and they seek release through the earth or the [...]

Detonate by Flower Bomb

Does your heart skip a beat to the rhythm of a splitting sky? Or when bent staples decorate the crowns of still-born kings and queens? Curiosity dances upon our satisfaction like nails on a chalk board as our imagination holds precious time hostage. The hands of a clock are bound with the razor wire of [...]

Quagmire by Brendon Crook

Whilst civilization claws the edge of its pit, In a wild scramble to save its deranged plunder, It sinks slowly into the quagmire of its own treachery, Mutating to ever more grotesque spectres of depravity. The few horrified children, Born of old hearts, Hide in the shadows from the Babylonian wastes, And quake at the [...]

AKU DAN DIRIKU / I With Myself by Okty Budiati

18 Februari dari balik likat menyamar pula rembulan kematian bukanlah limbah seperti taburan belantik tikam rongga pekuburan aku jalani hidup di bumi kebiadaban raga terobati merakit gasing berkarat tercekik serasa bernafas di sudut ini; aku kesepian perang menarikku pulang --------------------- February 18th, behind the murky nebulous moon death is not the cesspool like the sparkling [...]

And the Spirit Wept by Brendon Crook

The spirit wept as humanity, Unsheathed its sword against nature. The silver sword sweeping, Dragging the free and mystical, To their eternal silence, In a neon lit orgy of greed, Leaving far behind the sacred groves. As humanity plummets, Ever further into the yawning abyss of hell, The seeds of despair become, Mighty forests of [...]

Cardboard Moon by Flower Bomb

An election is an annually re-newed prescription fill, certified and picture-framed by the exploding skys of lead-rain imperialism. So many digits and numbers tie the knots of woven order and security that keep us warm in the dark space of infinity, but their sunshine is a dying star and their beaches are washed up ash [...]