Monthly Archives: September 2018

Businesses must be built like cities

Businesses must be built like cities, as places for pleasure, trade, wealth and work.
A successful business epitomizes the work that shines like gold. The work that breathes the perpetual air of jazziest Spring.

Innovation and hard work
Your deeds and hard work are evidence of your small empire erected on a foundation of stardusted ideas protected by the wing of spring. Rains might soak your efforts and bring in the smell of dust, but you must toil and think creatively until the sun comes down again.
Whoever comes for pleasure should see the hard work behind every shiny slate in the pavement.
Leave trails of hard work to lead your customers to your city of trade, wealth and treasures. Be a lucky snail that leaves a gold trail of slog.

Trade means to develop friendliness and communication. The city of business is not a place for arguments but for agreements and networking. And for instructive courses, information, physical and spiritual wealth and language. The language that creates truthful connections between the people who are willing to build something wonderful together, a business, a new product, a story that stealthily steals your time while giving away pleasure.

Extraordinary evidence
“Extraordinary claims require extraordinary evidence” – Carl Sagan
Show hard evidence of your timeless toil everywhere, on your site, blog and social media pages. On your white papers, newsletters, emails, your sketches of new projects.

“The secret to success is to do the common things uncommonly well.” ― John D. Rockefeller
Let us draw an idea with some words! As we cannot paint like this:

© Iulia Halatz

Art by Ivan Konstantinovich Aivazovsky.

I am delighted that five of my poems were included in the Sudden Denouement Anthology Volume I. The anthology is now available on Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk.

Praise for Pantheon by Eric Syrdal

“The poetry is densely colourful, rich in imagery and sensuality, boldly imaginative and deeply sensitive to the human condition, while being written with clarity and emotional pull. I found myself sitting for three hours, empty coffee cups scattered around me, utterly absorbed in the storytelling and the crafting of language. Syrdal has created something very powerful, using elements of history, science fiction, worldly fantasy and unmistakable reality to bind these pieces together in a system of belief and fantastic-theology that appears utterly believable, utterly intoxicating.”
Lois E. Linkens

Get engulfed by the waves of the story on Sudden Denouement Literary Collective: suddendenouement.com/2018/09/20/praise-for-pantheon-by-eric-syrdal.

Writers of the imperfect maps- Iulia Halatz

Writers of the imperfect maps for the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective, where words are blades and images glint like fire:

Language is not like the sun,
heating and scorching
but like the moon
keeping secrets
and the arcane magic of the night
throwing stars
in the lilacs’ claws
till dawn:

suddendenouement.com/2018/09/19/writers-of-the-imperfect-maps-iulia-halatz

© Iulia Halatz

Photography art by Cecil Beaton.

I am delighted that five of my poems were included in the Sudden Denouement Anthology Volume I. The anthology is now available on Amazon.com and Amazon.co.uk.

Sharp- A Weyward Sisters Collaboration

Sharp– Enthralling Weyward Sisters Collaboration for the Sudden Denouement Literary Collective, where words are blades and images glint like fire

“I am playing with knives
again
sharpening them
lovingly
against brown leather strap
admiring the way
hair splits cleanly
upon the well-honed edge”
(Christine E. Ray)

“Listen!
Sounds like a violin–
fine strings ‘gainst steel bow
I play concerto
splitting hairs”
(Kindra M. Austin)

“I’m trimming those frayed ends
sharpening those
pointy convictions
giving them a sharp edge
a serrated opinion,
ready to pierce you
where it hurts you more”
(Megha Sood)

“Cold steel on skin,
I blossom,
stare down the line
take aim
at friend, foe and fortune
with my throwing knives;
multiply and divide,
split and survive.”
(Kristiana Reed)

“I like a razor
but xyraphi sings to me
of shreds, edges, ends
sweeter than any cutlery.
An x is an eraser,
that’s why I draw it long
to keep it clean and short
and shave me complication.
Oh, how I love a razor!”
(Basilike Pappa)

“There was a shadow crowd
And a circle of light. Sawdust stank
Beneath my feet like dirty salt hair
And the thud
Against the board
Came like the footsteps of God.
Ribbons of air and time and space
Gathered round my ankles,
Coils of blue light.
Looping and curling and purring,
They crooned my power,
Sharp to draw blood from stone.”
(Lois E. Linkens)

“The slice was white lightening
lacerating flesh from bone
in the moment of searing truth.
I slash and gnash
my teeth barbed and keen
well-oiled from the feast
of my rotting soul.
I chop at the edges
of yesterday’s sorrow
but the pain! I feel it not
only the blinding sting
of my wayward might”
(Aurora Phoenix)

“All the time in the world
Pressing down
Sharp as the obsidian
Black night
You relinquished me
To oblivion
Surviving on
Insidious pain
Of yesterday
Tapered to the edge
Of no tomorrow”
(1Wise-Woman)

“I aim at dreams
knife them
as trophies on my wall.
I can always
take one down
quench the thirst
of a turbulent wound
with
tainted endearment
from the poisoned well
We dug and drained
under the wing of
One night.
I’m in love
with a stabbed dream.”
(Iulia Halatz)

“The blade cut into the night and flashed silver against the moonlight. And even though my ears heard no sounds but the thundering of my heart, I swore I could hear the sharp metal singing it’s high-pitched tune as it sliced through the air. It slipped through my skin like it was warm butter and at first I felt nothing. I wondered if maybe it was shock or disbelief. But then the pain started. Like someone injected gasoline into my bloodstream and lit a match. I watched as the thick, red liquid poured out of the fresh wound and begged for death. And as he stood over me, he licked my blood from his dagger and smiled down at me in a show of blood-stained teeth — right before everything went black.

When I awoke from the nightmare, I reminded myself that I was alive and the true face behind my fears liked it when I called him Daddy. The only comfort I found was knowing that death came for him first. Too bad he didn’t take the memories with him.”
(Sarah Doughty)

Self Addressed Stamp Envelope – Erich Michaels

Lettered feelings to the artist as a young man by the amazing Erich Michaels

…”I wrote a letter to that young wanderer
Using my address from that time
Across the top: Erich Michaels (adolescent)

In it I said:
Yes…she will break your heart, but…
Enjoy the ride
Also, don’t block out her name
She deserves better than that
That tattoo will be a regret
Not just because it’s needle and thread
Bottle of India ink, prison-chic
But because it doesn’t represent you…”

Read all imperfect feelings written in perfect words on A Global Divergent Literary Collective: suddendenouement.com/2018/08/03/self-addressed-stamp-envelope-erich-michaels

Truth and Lie

According to a 19th century legend, the Truth and the Lie meet one day. The Lie says to the Truth: “It’s a marvellous day today”! The Truth looks up to the skies and sighs, for the day was really beautiful. They spend a lot of time together, ultimately arriving beside a well. The Lie tells the Truth: “The water is very nice, let’s take a bath together!” The Truth, once again suspicious, tests the water and discovers that it indeed is very nice. They undress and start bathing. Suddenly, the Lie comes out of the water, puts on the clothes of the Truth and runs away. The furious Truth comes out of the well and runs everywhere to find the Lie and to get her clothes back. The World, seeing the Truth naked, turns its gaze away, with contempt and rage.
The poor Truth returns to the well and disappears forever, hiding therein, its shame. Since then, the Lie travels around the world, dressed as the Truth, satisfying the needs of society, because, the World, in any case, harbours no wish at all to meet the naked Truth.

Art by Michael Cheval.

Freedom

“Everything can be taken from a man, but one thing: the last of the human freedoms — to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way.”
Viktor Frankl

I choose to take in the wild sweet smell of the cherry flowers and forget about the sorrows and despairs pressed in my herbarium.

Art by Ohara Koson.

Montresor/Down Vaults – Basilike Pappa

The trembling of a rose by the audacious and talented Basilike Pappa

“Since I was born

I’ve been a point definitely settled

(Roses are eaten fragrant)”…

Read more of her beyond-amazing words: suddendenouement.com/2018/09/10/montresor-down-vaults.