The Show Tell Project

For Seymour's Fat Lady

Tag: Photography

That Kind of Girl

by fyarlgiles

That mouth hanging open

-dripping

like a soiled dish rag–

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–she is porn

–she is titilation

she is the repulsion that

comes afterward

with green fingernails and wet, dying eyes.

Sweet, cherry nipples

stuck on Tender breasts

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She’s here

for you

sweaty–

greasy–

limp with filth.

  salty fingers on her tongue

she wakes

alive again but at the bottom

–where hell is

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defile her-

Life says its safe to make her stink

to make her cry

She’s made for this.

On a good day

she feels numb

cause

She knows how

To be

A thing with no center

There, but not really.

a rusty red husk

drying

in a shadow

by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse

Artwork by Keith P. Rein & Cassidy Rae Limbach

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When She Waves

by fyarlgiles

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For Hellos and

goodbyes

my hands are

brittle sticks

stiffened by the forceful elements

raised up as if ready to punish the space

between us

with a strike.

unable to grasp–

They are unable —

to feel

to hold

Affection slides off of them.

and

sharing is lost.

Whether coming

or going

they wag.

wag.

wag.

Hi There.

 Hi there,

whoever you are.

“Her Wave” by Angie Hoover Hillhouse

Artwork: Shadows by Bird Heart

Editor Page

by fyarlgiles

Hello All, I have added an “About the Editor Page” to the site!

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ClICK ON IMAGE

Sunday Funnies: Surreality Programming

by fyarlgiles

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Peeping Tom by Steven Quinn

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 Speech on Days Past by Eugenia Loli

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Devil Katz by Cosmic Nuggets

 

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The New Baby by Tyler Hewitt

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Macklemore by Withapencilinhand

The Gymnast

by fyarlgiles

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In the evening,

when her elbows grind into the gravel

beneath whirling toes

and plump, freckled cheeks,

she is alive

in the world with the rest of them.

She is the bringer of motion

of percussion—

of lightness and music–

she

is

everything.

But when the faint moonbeams recede,

she is a hardened lump of throbbing thighs

and raw skin–

stiffened scabs

and sleepy hands wrapped up in sheets

longing for the comfort of

adoring

eyes to tell her that

She Exists.

“The Gymnast” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse

Artwork by Hugo Barros

This piece will be featured in an upcoming stage production called Cat-Fight, which explores  the complexities of womanhood!

Support Women in the Arts! Donate to CAT-FIGHT !

Cat Fight

by fyarlgiles


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My work is going to be featured in a Los Angeles-based production this spring!

Vanessa Cate, critically acclaimed director,  is developing her first independent production. The project,”Cat-Fight”, is an all female show which will explore the complexities of womanhood through a series of vignettes written by Vanessa, myself, Crystal Little Bird SalasCheryl Doyle, and Natalie Hyde! It will incorporate poetry, dance, music, scenes, and other performance art.We are all very excited about the project ! Please support if you can, even $1 will be useful! 

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JOIN FACEBOOK GROUP HERE

Over the next couple of days I will be reposting some work that has been selected for the show  in an effort to raise funds and draw attention to the project! This is the only official announcement I will post, however. I don’t want to spam anyone! Thank you!

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I am not a lesbian

by fyarlgiles

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I am not a lesbian. Not really.

but I know what it is to ache for a woman.

To be her smiles and her tears

To know

That she is the truth

To fantasize about feeling her breasts and her belly

About making her cum

About making her feel less lonely

but I am not a lesbian

not really.

” I am not a Lesbian” by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse

Artwork: The Secret by David Delruelle

The Problem With Blue

by fyarlgiles

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The problem with blue

is that it

 plumps up my lips with

the fatty fluff

of

petulance

until I am a beautiful beast—

-coddled-

– admired-

————-and loving it so

“I am Woman. Hear me Whine”  by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse

Gold & Pearls by Jenny Liz Rome

Twist me Tender

by fyarlgiles

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-knees

and necks  this way

and that–

I hate to see that

bluish bend.

Beneath the floors

like dying

rats,

The folded backs

of melting men –

Cowardice by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse

Artwork by Franz Flackenhaus

Your Drowning is Contagious

by fyarlgiles

The heavy stone tied to my ankle

is you

because you are smooth,

asleep,  and

sinking downward with all those lovers still attached.

—–At the very bottom,

My eyes are both closed and open

because who can tell the difference down here?

I cannot breath

and

 I know  that waiting is all there is

anymore.

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I’ll let it happen

like you do–

never stopping to resist

We’re together

you’re alone

dying any time is fine

by Angie Hoover-Hillhouse