Author Archives: samantha lucero

HOLLYWOOD HIGH – Collaboration – A.G. Diedericks & Samantha Lucero

Originally posted on A Global Divergent Literary Collective:
Heathers and jocks, flock together You and I tethered to Glocks & black leather Clocks broken, shot into a myopic future We meditate on bloodlust of a murdered adolescent reverie, besotted with living forever The colour of Mondays changed when I tasted the insidious guile on your…

MY CITY IS GREY – An Impromptu Interview W/ Lois E. Linkens.

Originally posted on A Global Divergent Literary Collective:
A few moons ago, a few glasses of wine decided that Lois needed a spotlight tossed onto her, and so this impromptu (and unprofessional, because I’m not a professional) interview was begun simply for appreciation. Enjoy learning more about her! ? Q: I’ve been made aware that…

the perfect marriage

i’ve evolved from spitfoam into hearth-iron ribs trapped between septic fingers and lost doors. one gummy eye used to be the rasp moon, the other a varnished cloud. i’ve created ants and snow in a womb for licking, cloying death. for freezing, for festering age, years. rafts of web on web. i scream in a […]

“The tiny body is on a cold, silver table with a white sheet covering it, and I want to look away, but I can’t.” – excerpt, (first paragraph, actually.) from a loosely titled novel of mine entitled ‘stars, but no heaven‘

writing (a) novel(s)

i’ve finished writing a novel. a few people have asked advice. i will make another post about what the hell i plan on doing with it, because… i have no idea! i think i’ve decided to go the old-fashioned route and send it to literary agents rather than self-publish (for now), consequently, probably building an […]

time who kills – samantha lucero

Originally posted on A Global Divergent Literary Collective:
who kills, father time? time who kills: all things. startling with the drip of a chrysalis stuck threading in a tapered night that once slurped on breast milk and sour bread. a man where clearwing moths have suckled in. though he peals in fishnets, loud in a…

hours 

I see those mottled photos, ornate albums of yesterdays yellow sun Of swollen women, dream-like, in a lavender field. They leash their arms around an oval-shape becoming empty; the shape deflates, the air comes out like water. It starts to breathe it’s own small breath in the shape of a person, someday a man, a […]

art is long, time is short.

why the silence? poems used to pinch me out of no where. they’d tap me on the spine in the bathroom, press their cold nose on my ear while i was at the grocery store. they’d well up in my mead glass and i’d drink them until the grin on my face was a glasgow.  […]

untitled

my scent, not his scent, but by some changeling blood could spread the same smile on halloween. on christmas waking up in blankets it didn’t fall asleep in. there’s bricks that hold down a red bottlebrush flower from 1994. remember, she called you honeysuckle, and thought rats had no bones. i remember my small hand […]