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 [...]

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 [...]

Call For Submissions For Issue 2 of The Night Forest Journal.

Following the response we have received for the first issue of The Night Forest Journal, we are pleased to announce the call out for submissions for the second issue. As a project that is based online, it is clear that those who want to write with us, and those who enjoy reading our words, share [...]

For The Children-March 15th 2019 by Dan John

It’s often repeated To listen to your elders But what if your elders talk emphatically of only wildly fantastical things? Leprechauns and meritocracy Unicorns and GDP Loch Ness monsters and sustainability Sasquatch and the global economy Children should get to take the future’s face between both hands Gaze into its eyes and kiss it deeply [...]

Where Death Visited by Brendon Crook

The finale of my days occurred in these woods. My soul to cope no longer with the destruction. As time closed in, I heard the saws over the valley, As the echoes reverberated throughout the forest, I felt a searing stabbing pain within my head. Moisture began to weep from my eyes, Streaming down my [...]

The Holocene Holocaust by Brendon Crook

The boulevards along the culture of ignorance, Are lined with the broken tombstones of an estranged humanity. The skies above crack with the thunder of their vacuous desires and petty pastimes. Their faltering remnants of reality are lost behind masks of indoctrinated, Delusions and covetous fancies all the while staring with vacated eyes, To the [...]

Our by Phen Weston

Always, the air had placed foiled garments at my feet. If your brain is broken, may I suggest dissection? Cut the pieces and strip the flesh back to infinity, place them upon the ground! Remember that I am your beast. The ground splinters and spits tubular in gross expectancy and low, I am never, nor [...]