Issue 6

Acknowledgments

by Nayana Rodriguez:

The Chocolate Tabby

by Lavínia Vianini:

All Things Unholy

What I think when I think about you Confessions I would tell you with my eyes closed "you have to let it rest"

by Liew Chooi Chin:

She Fears Red

The Fog

The World Is So Beautiful

by Marjan Safiyari:

A Fiery

Birth

The Leafy Pearl Heart Prince & His Specific Friend

by Holden Flosi:

2 cats in the kitchen

tired kitty

Cat's first birthday

cat in da tub

by Gratia Serpento:

My Brother Doesn't Remember M

by Alayn Kirk:

Young Greg

by Noll Griffin:

Wolpertinger Waffles

by Sophia Lucia Menendian:

Gloomy Sandbag Baby

IN BLACK

Gone To Seed

Directors:

Willow Kang Liew Bei

Sophia Lai

Consultant:

Ker Vanish

Graphic designer:

Gerselle Koh

Staff writers:

Jessica King

Angie Yeung

Italo Ferrante

Sharon Pan

Zafra Kazi

Shamik Banerjee

The Chocolate Tabby

As a child I

Once came across a Chocolate baby tabby

Covered in white snow

Whiskers moving in the air

I moved to carry it away

With a warm brown

Belly and soft silky

Fur I fed her a meal

Of white milk and cream

She licked it up rather hungrily

My anxious self blushed

At the sight of her

Worry dissipating and Being replaced by a warm feeling

As a child in the coldest

Of days I came across

Softest, kindest little tabby

It followed me around town, It curled around my tiny feet

And let out little yowls for meat

by Nayana Rodriguez

I loved her like a mother

Would their newborn baby

I held her close and slept

With one eye open

For on snowy evenings

And ashen skied mornings

People would scream warnings

Of creatures and strangers

Who disguised themselves as

The darkest of things

They ate like a baby but

Moved like the shadows

I once came across

A little misshapen thing

In the middle of the snowy road

She looked like a tabby

But when I fed her too much

And when I cuddled her

To tightly

I felt that chocolate tabby

Shift and move in ways

Unlike, myself

About Nayana Rodriguez

N. Rodriguez is a 19 yr old college sophmore pursuing a degree in English. She goes by she/her pronouns and comes from an African American background.

All Things Unholy

Leave the table before the host

by Lavínia Vianini

Swallow the shards of glass from the broken cup

Pluck the petals from a tulip, one at a time

Drown in a hotel bathtub

Feel the last breath of a bird

In the palm of your hand

And photograph it later

And bury it later.

Step on the lines that divide the floors

Leave your slippers turned upside down

Don’t knock on wood three times

Don’t knock on wood three times

Accidently poison a plant

Accidently kill a rabbit

Wake up with bloodstained sheets.

by Lavínia Vianini

what I think about when I think about you

The unspoken profanities

Promises on lips shut

The heresy contained in the intertwining of fingers

The purple light that comes under the window at dusk

Bodies are their own language

Prose receptacles that I annihilate in poetry

I think about language like I think about love

So latent, it's almost palpable

I write you because I see you in verses

Confusing semantics that reveal glimpses of secrets

Unexpected visits in dreams

Coffee drank over a welcoming silence

The plans that unfold in a spiral

Of moments that I keep inside a pendant

love in metric

reunion in tears

catharsis in verse.

by Lavínia Vianini

confessions I would tell you with my eyes closed

I wanted to tell you a story without having to put it into words.

I have seen you in a dream

In a room full of mirrors, a million versions of you

you, you, you

Like a prayer which I cannot help but whisper with trembling lips

and now every time you ’ re inside me I reach for more

I have told you my truths in the middle of the winter evening

Your back facing my chest because I’ m always scared

Defense mode

Like a small animal, please handle with care

I see the face of everything I had never yet felt

Every fragment of every poem looking blurred

Dissolving

Within me, heavy, heavy breath

I could never go near a blade but I have cut my chest open for you

Arteries exposed for you

Your name in my mouth like honey

The perfect boy

The only body who has ever touched with lust my first bed

You have torn apart all my seven walls and I have had enough deaths in this lifetime so, come in my beautiful, beautiful accident.

" you have to let it rest "

by Lavínia Vianini

“

Build me a house and call it Versailles”

Footnotes on a winter night

Blindfolded stepping on wood floor

Mixed signals which I cannot read

To letting go without an anticipation of the fall

Not a sense of fear, but hesitation

Not a pendulum anymore, it’ s all silent

The beauty of my grandmother’ s rose garden

The smell of bathing soap when I bury my nose in his hair

Vertigo

What is a poem without planning if not a stream of consciousness?

Except I can ’t seem to follow any train of thought

You see, I still believe in the greatness of love

And I still cry watching my favourite movie

And part of me still expects to be gifted flowers on a rainy day

And if my mother were to describe me with one word

She would say

Strength

Today I had to murder my old self

Buried her in the palace of my mind

Grey memories dancing as I let the waves take in

The smell of corn bread

Why do I always find myself back into the old pink house?

About Lavínia Vianini

Lavínia is a poet, translator and teacher graduated in Literature at the Federal University of Rio de Janeiro. She was a volunteer researcher for two years and a scholar in Comparative Literature during her last year at the University. She has published the article "Sylvia Plath's tulips in Ana Martins Marques' garden: reality, madness, imagination."

She Fears Red

by Liew Chooi Chin

She fears red, when she sees blood running down her legs. The red blood–soft and warm–like a silk brocade, imprisoning her in her own body, trapping her at home.

The red floods her road to school.

The red fire burns her books and worksheets.

The red acid corrodes her confidence into flaky rust. The red eats her all up.

One night she dreamt: she is in the girl’ s toilet rolling thick sheets of tissue to stop her blood; but the bloody blood keeps seeping out. Her classmates poke their heads out from the mirrors, laughing, stretching their wide, thick red-lipsticked mouth, flicking their long tongues out to her. She cowers and screams. then she woke up in her bed, feeling the wetness between her legs: Cruel red jaws gnawing at her innards, A fat tongue licking her blood.

It is the biology of her body, it spells “Absence” in school attendance.

It is the biology of her body, she misses school. Mother Nature does not care about Education. The Reproduction mechanism is set before Education comes into existence.

One night, in her nightmare

The damned, red bloody face comes–without notice–on that day she has her swimming lesson. The bloody face grins at her from the bottom of the pool, spewing red things from its mouth. She sees the blue water tinged with a tiny, little red, and suddenly She herself becomes red. She surrenders to the bloody face at the bottom, paralyzes herself so she cannot struggle to put her head out to breathe. It is an easier, it is a quicker way to end the humiliation. She lets the face

eat her and she drowns.

Mother Nature does not care about Education.

Mother Nature only cares about Reproduction and Perpetuation of the species.

Mother Nature only cares that she menstruates every month –ensuring Reproduction and Perpetuation of the species.

The Fog

by Liew Chooi Chin

The fog has lifted, I row my boat towards the shoreline.

Or, is it that I have rowed my boat out of the fog, and I see the shoreline.

Is it the shoreline where I have come from?

Or, is it another shoreline that I have never been to?

In this fog, It is hard to tell. But, I am only certain of one fact, I have rowed past the line of hesitation, and there is no looking back.

The World Is So Beautiful

by Liew Chooi Chin

She stands on a green meadow.

Light breeze, sweet scent of grass. Suddenly, the ground

Into an abyss.

Her screams is absorbed into the

nothingness.

She is alone, ALONE, in her abyss.

Boys and girls on family picnics, run past her.

Mothers and fathers chatting casually.

The sky so blue, the meadow so green, the world so beautiful.

They see her standing on the green meadow, enjoying the light breeze and the sweet scent.

They thought

The world is so beautiful.

About Liew Chooi Chin

Chooi Chin studied Library Sciences and Computing (which she absolutely hated) at university. She now lives at a coastal city with a sneaky cat who regularly sneaks into the kitchen to steal food. Chooi Chin continues to enjoy writing. Her other hobbies include studying Japanese language, playing the piano, and trying out fantastically whacky recipes.

A Fiery Birth

by Marjan Safiyari

A young lady dove flies in the sky. During her fly, she doesn‘t notice a stony-hearted hunter who has hidden himself among the tallest bushes, she just feels a heavy fire in her heart. She falls down harshly in the center of an ablaze volcano. Her soul comes out sorrowfully and starts sobbing because she isn’t able to get back to her breathless body. The red-hot hearted volcano profoundly perceives her significant sorrow. Therefore, the volcano decides to assist her in his afire magic way so he gathers all his bouncing melting roots’ ashes and afterwards creates a young girl human body. The smiling soul goes to her new body, then all the doves of sky come to adore her special beauty. At that moment, the young girl becomes aware of her mighty ashes-like wings which have emerged from her backbone. So, she can strongly fly everywhere through them. She flies toward the volcano to appreciate him gently for this such a precious present. After this work, she opens her wondrous wings and flies toward her bright waiting life

by Marjan Safiyari

The Leafy Pearl Heart Prince & His Specific Friend

There is a giant oceanic shell in the last heavy layer of still water which a tiny leafy pearl heart prince lives in, in a marble palace.

On a shiny day, he puts on his artistic outfit and goes outside to make another delightful day for himself. This time, he decides to spend his hour with the charming colours and strings of sky. During his amusement, he notices a snowy silky ball falls down on the sandy wavy ground. Leafy pearl heart prince decides to go toward it to see what it can be. When Prince gets close to that ball, he becomes aware that it is a breathing ball and it has slight movements so he stops walking to figure out what it is.

Although the snowy silky ball says hello to Prince, she doesn’t receive any respond. So she wants Prince to be gentle when he meets a lady. In this state, Prince becomes regretful that he hasn’t greeted her in a noble manner. Therefore, he greets her warmly through his words and a beautiful bouquet. A few seconds later, Prince is profoundly passionate about knowing who she is. She tells him that he is the person who caused her to be here. Prince is amazed as what she is saying so he wants to know more. The snowy silky ball tells him that when Prince was touching the shiny colours and strings in the sky through his magic brush which has knitting needles, his wondrous work resulted in creating her body in this elegant way so she is here to be her kind, supportive reliable and eternal friend. Through her heartwarming words, Prince becomes really cheerful so he shows her the way back home to spend lots of amazing moments with each other.

About Marjan Safiyari

Her name is Marjan Safiyari, a published fiction author. She was born in 1989 in Shiraz, the charming city of art and literature. She has a BA degree in English Literature at Zand Institute of Higher Education. Her first book titled “Devil Shadows and Golden Lantern With Other Stories ” was published in 2017 by Austin Macauley Publishers based in London. Two stories titled “Rabby & Zabrina ” besides “Coralline & Her Caring Circle Clock” were published by Cordelia magazine, which is based in Scotland. And two other stories titled “Jimmy, A Different Plumber ” , “Emanuel & Emma, An Unforgettable Night” and two artworks were published by Meditating Cat Zine magazine based in Singapore. Her flash fiction story titled “My Brilliant Belly Button Bubbles ” and short story titled “Austin & Bella ” besides six photos in her creative way were published by Contemporary Jo magazine. Her flash fiction story titled “The Best & Memorable Winter Days ” besides six poems and her photo as the cover of Issue 1 were published by The Dried Review. Her two flash fiction stories titled “Good Gary” and “The Experience Of My Detective Work At Night” besides three creative photos were published by Meditating Cat Zine Magazine. Her other flash fiction titled “A Gleaming Giant Monster “ was published in Issue 1 of Creative Bastards magazine.

Hiya!!! It's Granny Sunburst Squares Cat, your local cat crocheter!

Do you want one of my crochet sunflowers too?

About Sophia Lai

Sophia provides much-needed advice on designing this zine's instagram posts and website. She has drawn for the Meditating Cat Zine, a cast of unique cats. Fuelled by shibas & tea, Sophia finds solace in scribbling lil’ doodles in between the draining yet amusing life that is her school life. While most of her interests & fantasies constantly come and go, thoughts on what to draw next stay on her mind 24/7, rent free. Other than her hopes of pursuing a path in the visual arts or graphic design sector, she strives to actually fill up a full sketchbook (and fix her sleep schedule) someday. Find her on IG: @kumo.yoko.

Photos from Holden Flosi

cat's first birthday

2 cats in the kitchen tired kitty

cat in da tub

About Holden Flosi

Holden Flosi is a freshman in high school. He enjoys photography and cuddle time with his cats.

by Gratia Serpento

My Brother Doesn'tRemember Me

My brother doesn’t remember me anymore.

I was horrible to him in my youth—for what I thought was a good reason. He took everything from me; my parents’ love, everyone ’ s attention, my room and my stuff. I hated him, the brother that came along thirteen years after me because I wasn ’t enough for my parents anymore, they wanted a new baby, I aged out of their affection.

I hated him, from the moment I first saw him, screaming and crying. Actually, I hated him the moment Ma gave me the announcement. From the moment people started asking me if I was excited to have a sibling, instead of asking how I was.

Immediately, my brother sensed my hatred and displeasure of him, because he was nothing more than a pest. He used to cut my hair or blame his mistakes on me. And my parents would always believe him.

So I kicked him away and acted as though he never existed. I rarely spoke to him directly, and if I did, it was because of something he’d done that upset me.

Needless to say, after I left for college and moved out, we never talked, neither of us reaching out. I hated him, he hated me because I hated him. That’ s the way it’ s always been.

I got a call from Ma last week. My brother got into a car accident, and cracked his head against the windshield. He was put in a medical coma, and the doctors say there’ s little chance of regaining his memories.

And I can ’t find the right words to describe the pain that shook through my body when I heard my Ma’ s shaky voice.

It's two weeks after the call. I’ m sitting outside the hospital room, waiting. Ma and Dad aren ’t here, I made sure of it—I’ m not sure

d be able to do this with them watching. My palms are clammy, my throat dry. Maybe I should leave, I don’t know if this is a good idea, what am I doing here, I’ m so stupid, and—

“

Miss Johnson,” a voice says, and I startle. A nurse with bright blue scrubs smiles at me, his hands clenched around a checklist. “Aiden is awake and can see you now. ”

“Perfect, great,” I say, rubbing my hands against my legs.

The nurse stares at me, and I at him for a long moment. “Are you…coming in?”

“Oh, yes, I am. ” I still don’t move.

The nurse slowly blinks at me. “Alright, um…do you need help?”

“No, I’ m fine.” And I still don’t move.

I’ ve never seen anyone as confused as this nurse is right now. “Is there something wrong?”

“I don’t think so. ” I rub my face. “He doesn’t remember me?”

“He heard about you a few days ago, and he’ s still surprised. He’ s seen photos, but he’ s very anxious to meet you. ”

Meet you. He truly doesn’t know me.

I force myself into a standing position, my legs wobbly and weak, my breathing shallow, hollow. My walk is slow and stilted, and the nurse holds his arms out like he’ s ready to assist me.

“I’ m fine,” I try to assure him, but he gives me an unbelieving look. I look through the threshold, and see my brother laying on the cot with an IV in his arm. He looks the same, I guess, physically, except there’ s bruises on his face and he looks a little thinner.

His eyes are different. I’ m used to seeing him look at me like I’ m the scum of the earth, his eyes cold and hard. But, now, his eyes are cautious and curious.

“Hey, Aiden,” I say, my voice a little scratchy.

“You must be my sister,” he says, cocking his head. “Astana, right?”

“Yep, that’ s right. Some people call me Tani.”

“Did I call you Tani?”

“Well, no. ” I run my hand across my face. “You usually were a little busy calling me a jerk.” Aiden’ s brows furrow, and I quickly backtrack.

“But I figured, you ’ re not the same Aiden that I knew, so you could probably call me Tani. If you want, and you ’ re still Aiden, and—”

“Tani’ll work,” he smiles at me, cutting off my rambling. He holds out his hand. “Nice to meet you, big sis.”

My brother has one life, I have one life, and I could’ ve wasted it by hating him for something he never meant to do. He could’ ve died thinking— knowing I didn’t have a thing to do with him. He might’ ve died before I ever got to meet him.

Call me selfish, but I’ m glad his memories are gone. It gives us a chance to start fresh, to make new memories, happy memories.

I reach out and shake his hand. “Nice to meet you, lil bro.”

About Gratia Serpento

Gratia Serpento is an Oregonian poet/journalist/writer who spends her days reading, writing, studying, and cuddling her puppy. She's had publications with Wild Greens Magazine, The Graveyard Zine, and Poor Yorick, among others. Check her Instagram (@poet_serpento) for more.

Young Greg by

Alayn Kirk

About Alayn Kirk

Alayn Kirk is a queer fibers artist and sewist from Milwaukee, WI. They're currently in their last year of study at UW-Milwaukee’ s Peck School of the Arts, double majoring in art and art history, with a focus in fibers art and drawing & painting. They mainly work in costuming, making wearable costume pieces inspired by clowns and jesters. Alayn also works in drawing, painting, digital illustration, weaving, and other fibers arts.

Wolpertinger Waffles

by Noll Griffin

About Noll Griffin

Noll Griffin is a digital illustrator and linoleum printmaker living in Berlin, Germany. His work takes inspiration out of anything adorably odd, from nature to vintage nostalgia. He is also an occasional singer-songwriter with a few bedroom-recorded albums to his name floating around.

Gloomy Sandbag Baby

I’ m glad it was gloomy cause I Don’t wanna waste no Chicago sunshine

I’ m a sandbag baby

And I’ ve been sleeping a lot lately

Got a Ferris wheel mind I’ m

Trying to compartmentalize

Trying to customize my own self-abrasion

Not rooted in logic, no no, no, That’ s just sensation, but

I’ m kept by molasses, Get got by oxytocin

I’ m not breaking these days, It’ s all erosion

What’ s compulsion

Without the obsession?

Cause I’ m pulling my hair and breathing and staring out

All of this tension

But I’ m

Just an Earthling

Flirting

With different concepts of my reality

by Sophia Lucia Menendian

And Everything is a testament to what I want it to be

Sandbag Baby

In Black

by Sophia Lucia Menendian

the metal heads in black fuck off in style getting nothing done in dark basements where bassists are crashing on your couch in from another town because they felt like coming around to play this one gig that they don’t care much about because it doesn ’t really matter. the poets in black listen with one eye on their dog-eared pages, flipping through the book that splits their attention to stay aloof and inspired.

the thespians in black buzz around you like a wasp at a summer picnic, flatteries as flowered as the Tuilleries, as empty as mine eyes glazed over talking to someone about a 9-5.

Gone To Seed

by Sophia Lucia Menendian

the flower of my desire has gone to seed a perennial need for land when I am at sea

About Sophia Lucia Menendian

Sophia Lucia is an experimental writer, performer, and musician. She is based out of Chicago & Paris. She makes folk/punkcabaret/rock & roll poetry music. She writes and produces a onewoman show entitled, 'Freak Show Cabaret!’ which is a variety show of theatre, poetry, dance, performance art, music, and miscellaneous etcetera.