Oceanic Ridge

You who holds beauty
so deep
that seafloors
hide away
in shame.
you who holds beauty
so deep,
so deep
that you thought
all you are
is vain.

Words by Cherry Rose Guillermo Copyright © 2017 Petrichors and Metaphors


Humans by Meghann Plunkett

We are humans. We know this because we can look down on almost everything.

Words by: Meghann Plunkett

Animation by: Andrés Fernández Cordón

Music by: Shayfer James


The psychiatrist told me
To remember all the things
That sends light
And warmth
In my heart
Like a ray of sunlight
Scattering all over the rubble we left
That was once called a city.

I told her I can’t
Because the only light
I could see
Is the spark
At the end
Of a barrel of a gun
Straight into
my father’s temple
As my mother made
a shrill noise
Still echoing in my ear
While I sat hushed
On a dark corner,
Hand over my mouth
As if to preserve
What little life
Is left of me.
If there is still any. Continue reading Pandemonium

SurREALITY (A Crappy Short Story)

         No one ever truly knows any answer to life’s greatest questions of all time. Like, Why are we here? or Who created God? Not a single scientific research study could prove or disprove the existence of God or provide an answer to any of these questions. At least none that I know of. Besides, I’ve got questions of my own. Continue reading SurREALITY (A Crappy Short Story)


Love is two-faced
Sometimes it’s a compass
in the middle of a forest;
Sometimes it’s the forest.

Love is two-faced
Sometimes it’s a  round spoon
Scooping you up from rock bottom;
Sometimes it’s a three-pronged fork,
Pinning you down from the pinnacle.

Love is two-faced
Sometimes it’s a nail,
Piecing creaky floorboards together;
Sometimes it’s a hammer,
Shattering frosted window panes
Into artificial glitter.

Love is two-faced,
And anyone who believes otherwise
Is either an optimistic fool,
Or a delusional mess.

Continue reading Two-faced


Across the distance
He could hear
The eager rush of the waves
Nearing the fingertips of the shore
“We’ll get there, we’ll get there,
We’re finally getting there.”
Drunk with the charm
Of a promising current
As their wishful hubbub
Turn into multiple,
Successive howls
Hushed to stillness
Drawn back to rest as
Part of the endless ocean
and over
How tragic,
How sorrowful,
How remarkably beautiful.

Continue reading Driftwood