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Don’t Talk To Me Of Love Issue #2 – Summer 2017


Words from the Editor …........................................... 5 What Freedom Is, According to Google – Meeni ….. 6 Numb – Zippity Zinedra …......................................... 7 The Fight – Nuri ….................................................... 8 TO THE PEACE! - Tchello ….................................... 8 Werewolf – AJ …....................................................... 9 the choking feeling (here it comes again) – Mari ….. 10 San Luis Potosi – Lucy ….......................................... 11 The Orange Man – Charlotte …................................. 12 Resist – Avery …......................................................... 13 Niente – Emma …...................................................... 14 Faery Wings – Chloe.................................................. 14 Song of the Chains – Nuri …..................................... 15 Trickle – Meeni …..................................................... 16 Where The Wind – Charlotte …................................ 17 BORBOLETRA – Tchello …...................................... 17 Contributors ….......................................................... 18


WORDS FROM THE EDITOR “Every moment, to let constellations of victories bloom at the zenith of centuries ; what is there that could be greater ?” “To be free.” The above quotation, freely adapted and translated from Victor Hugo’s Les Misérables, was written more than 150 years ago. Today still, it rings true. And so does the whole story, one of a man full of rage and pain, struggling to find love, forgiveness and hope for the future. I talk about this story, because it seems more universal than a lot of stories I could tell. I could pick up a newspaper and tell you about that, but I fear that the way I order tragedies, the way I am only able to recognize struggle in certain places, would reveal too much of my bias as a white, middleclass, European person. I know, there’s some irony there. As if picking a quote from a 19th century French novel isn’t as revealing. But I do believe there is something relevant in this story. I do believe that, more than a century after its birth, it still speaks of what we all need. Love. Forgiveness. Hope. Freedom. What a strange thing freedom can be. Political. Personal. Creative. It is difficult to grasp, difficult to achieve, difficult to hold on to. For all these reasons, stories of freedom will be many things. Happy stories, stories of struggle, stories of pain, of innocence and of guilt. Stories that need to be told, and will be told again as long as they stay relevant. As long as there is one person in this world who is still being denied their freedom. As I write these words, I realise one thing: freedom is not just an ideal and something to fight for. It’s not only the endgame. It’s also something we have to learn to live, in whatever way is possible to us. Freedom is something we have to feel and cherish everyday so we can learn to share it. And at the same time, it is the endgame, something bigger than ourselves, a natural instinct we have to strive and fight for as long as it is being taken from us. So what I am saying is this: Love and struggle. Rage and forgive. Be free. Tell your story. - Meeni Levi

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What Freedom Is, According to Google - Meeni

Freedom is free. Freedom is not free. Freedom is slavery, Freedom is a constant struggle, Freedom is a state of mind. Freedom is Frightening. Freedom is coming.

Freedom is coming.

Freedom is coming.

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Numb

-Zippety Zinedra

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The Fight - Nuri

For each bar of every cage I break there’s another waiting. It’s big. I’ll give them that. But what’s the point when I can’t run off the horizon without knowing the bars will stop me flying? It’s pretty. I’ll give them that. Grass and trees and smiles. But what’s the point in seeing that beauty against an ugly prison? What’s the point in living? For each bar of every cage I break there’s another waiting. But I have never lived in a cage. Only in the act of destroying it.

TO THE PEACE!

-Tchello

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Werewolf - AJ

if you think you’re safe with them now, then you’re already dead. as soon as you trust them, they betray you, grab your wrist, and rip out your veins. your veinless arm extends an olive branch and returns without all of your clammy switches. don’t dare mistake their smile for kindness, inspect their fangs for crimson serrated edges. but when they bite, you can’t bite back. bite back and fall into their bottomless claws, return, if at all, with shredded skin and tears as complex diamonds adorning your cheeks. lock your lasers on their widening pupils, notice that endless fear? you may not be invincible but you are right, and come the waning of the full moon, they’ll run and hide and return next month, slightly weakened. if you think you’re safe with them now, then you’re already dead.

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the choking feeling (here it comes again) - Mari

i- whenever i close my eyes tight enough i can hear this whistling sound; whenever i want something i immediately feel utterly afraid and unreasonably guilty. i've had this feeling for years. i used to think it was my fault. now i know. i was raised this way. i will always be a greedy little kid: inside i feel it's too late to change that. 'cause mom, dad: i will always want things- now, the things i want are too unstable, too big, too far from what i was made believe that i deserve. i no longer care. look at my hands: they're open, there are things that were mine from the start.

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San Luis Potosi -Lucy

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The Orange Man - Charlotte

We’re living in truth stranger than fiction Starting with a witch hunt For candidate Clinton. But the world resists, Balling hands into fists; Pussy hats and #weexist, Impeach The President on their bucket list. And if I have to shed Indifference, put my head Up past the parapet And claim my share of guilt? I will look upon what this life has built, And take my stand. The Orange Man will be where my tolerance ends, Sending a message: I will defend those from the laws you bend; I will tend a garden of tolerance in my heart; Mend the bridges you burnt behind. I guess, thank you for lighting this fire in me So that I finally see That whilst deeds may speak, It’s fake news that gains majority. And what can a white girl do, From all across the sea? Incite rebellion whilst drinking tea? Feed healthy media? Concede some battles, not let greed form the desire to be The Only One Who’s Right? I will defend free speech with all my might And not let ignorance cover it in shite. That race-/sex-ism can be ‘entitled opinion’? Let’s fight that notion. Rob it of it’s bite. Bring to light what lurks beneath, hiding in the night. My droplet of change might yet be small Compared to the nature of the Orange Man’s gall, But even tall walls can fall when mauled by a force of conviction, And this dystopia should stay fiction. So until my people can stop being scared By the threat of this hellish orange nightmare, Until we tear down the society that venerates people like him? I will help do what I can so that compassion wins. Until life is fair, My teeth are bared.

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Resist -Avery

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Niente

- Emma

First I’m behind bars Then you learn better, and worse And I can’t say no.

Faery Wings -Chloe

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Song of the Chains - Nuri

We were made to be broken, you and I, broken in the green waves of rising tide broken in war against an evil smile. We were made to die. But it’s an ugly life to live, defending those who cheat and kill. We have nothing to give but prison. But no one will listen if we ask to be spared, we are the damage, you and I, we weren’t born to survive that blue high tide because people will only think of their own pain once they’ve tasted the blood of broken chains.

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Trickle - Meeni

I hold a whole, Peeled orange In my hands And bite into it. The juice pours down my lips, My chin, My neck Adventurous droplets Venturing to my chest. I suck it up And feel like Christmas, Like a tree being lit up Except I’m a forest, Pretending to grow electricity. I give you half an orange, Empty of juice, Dead flesh. And you take it. For you are a flower With no sunshine And I am kind.

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Where The Wind - Charlotte

We left with pink faces And the rain gave us petrichorial perfume. It had been serene: all hot sun and quiet moment, You by my side, Reading a book, Chatting to a colleague, As I lay there, looking at clouds. A thirty minute lunch break Soaking in rays. The quietest my head has been in months Out in the ‘courtyard’ Sat in the sun Where the wind couldn’t touch us.

BORBOLETRA -Tchello

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Contributors Meeni Levi: Editor, “What Freedom Is, According to Google”, “Trickle” Meeni is a Belgian poet, the founder of the Arospec Poetry Network and an avid cacti collector. Read more of zir poetry at http://astrangershandwriting.tumblr.com Charlotte Mortimer-Talman: Designer, “The Orange Man”, “Where The Wind” Charlotte likes to think Keats was right when he said poetry should come naturally or not at all, and writes conversational pieces in which she likes to imagine the audience is standing right beside her, making faces. Read more of her poetry at http://vosesnequam.tumblr.com Emma Friend: Cover Design, “Niente” Emma Friend is a young poet from an old town, looking anywhere she can for inspiration Nuri: “The Fight”, “Song of the Chains” Nuri is a British teen who needs no soulmate other than their laptop. Read more of their poetry at http://poemsfromthewindow.tumblr.com AJ: “Werewolf” AJ is a quoiromantic, asexual orchestral bassist who is much too proud of being an ace of bass. Read more of their poetry at http://daily-life-of-a-kid.tumblr.com Mari Lezcano: “the choking feeling (here it comes again)” Mari is an agender aroace who started writing poems out of their own need for romance-free poetry. Read more of their poetry at http://phormaldehyde.tumblr.com/tagged/my-poetry Zippity Zinedra: “Numb” Zippity Zinedra is a 44 yr old queer non-binary weirdo writer artist zinester from Toronto, Canada. Find more of their work at https://facebook.com/ZippityZinedra Tchello d’Barros: “TO THE PEACE!”, “BORBOLETRAS” Tchello d’Barros is a writer and visual artist living in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil and who has been creating works for the last 20 years about themes like faith, sex, politics, human relations, contemporary society and daily lifestyle, with an emphasis on Visual Poetry. Find more of his art at http://tchellodbarros-poesiavisual.blogspot.com.br Lucy Porter: “San Luis Potosi” Lucy Porter is a travelling artist from London. Doing most of her work on the road, her art is autobiographical and like a series of diary entries, in which she illustrates both her dreams and reality. Find more of her art on instagram @luluwetfoot Avery: “Resist” Avery is an aroace artist who likes words and colors more than people. Find more of their art at https://eiburiart.tumblr.com Chloe Henderson: “Faery Wings” Chloe Henderson is an odd arsty person from Edinburgh, where she created highly patterned works inspired by stories, fantasies, geek culture, feminism and mythologies. In her spare time she tames unicorns and swims with mermaids. Find more of her work at http://chloehenderson.co.uk

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If you enjoyed this zine and would like to read more romance-free poetry by arosepec writers, don’t hesitate to join us at http://arospecpoetrynet.tumblr.com/


Profile for Arospec Poetry Network

Don't Talk To Me Of Love - Issue #2  

A collection of art and poetry by contemporary arospec artists. ISSUE #2: FREEDOM

Don't Talk To Me Of Love - Issue #2  

A collection of art and poetry by contemporary arospec artists. ISSUE #2: FREEDOM

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