​Never Know Who Might Be Listening
 
Jim met an old friend
from college days long
after both retired.
 
They were classmates
on the beautiful campus,
of a small religious school.
 
Tuition was low,
the people were nice and
the academics were good.
 
No one knew
they weren’t believers.
Both had kept that quiet.
 
But now in old age Bill
had found God and it was
driving his friend Jim nuts.
 
What happened to you,
Jim asked and Bill said it
happened after his wife died.
 
Someone told him to pray
to a God who might be there.
Bill figured it couldn’t hurt.
 
One night he woke up  
startled in his recliner.
He had become a believer.
 
Be careful who you talk to,
Bill told Jim, Never know
who might be listening.
 
 
 
Donal Mahoney

Person Suit
Author:  John Lagos, Alan Swyer, Belkis Slama, Mark Payne, Dianne Lowe-Breakfield, Libay Linsangan, Anea De Guzman, Dann Barbare, Scott Bell, Diamante Lavendar, and Cristina Vega
Publisher: Dreaming Big Publications
Reviewed by: Michaela G.
 
About the Book
This collection of poetry, memoirs and stories of short fiction presents to the reader such themes as depression, suicide, hopelessness, grief, loss, love, mental illness, and abuse both emotional and physical experienced by the writers or someone close to them. This collection serves to demonstrate that hiding behind shame or fear rather than sharing emotional pain as the authors in these works do is tantamount to “putting on a mask” or “wearing a person suit.” It is pretending. It is a state of existing but not truly living life to the fullest. The 11 authors featured in this collection have taken off their “person suit,” exposed their true selves to the world so that others may find their own voice and the courage to speak about mental illness and abuse of any kind.
My Review
Rating: 3  
The collection of poetry, memoirs, and short stories of fiction bring light to mental disorders or mental illness to the face of the readers. It brings up topics of physical, sexual and even emotional abuse, as well illnesses like PTSD and Depression. I commend the authors and poets that contributed to the making of this collection for showing the realities that many people in the world face but, the world chooses to ignore.  The mesh of poetry introducing topics and ending the collection with the collection of stores and memoirs in the middle seemed a great way to frame and organize the collections. However, there were a few things that were bothersome as a lot of the stories were underdeveloped. The stories needed more character development as I did not understand the motives of the characters, what they sound like, what were they thinking, most of the times it was not descriptive enough. Sentences of description would often be, he did this and not describing what is actually happening. At times it was also very confusing and seemed rushed to finish taking away the experience to really enjoy and understand how mental illness and abuse are present. It is a very promising book and has great stories and other stories that have potential that can be expanded more.
 
About The Author
Consists of 11 authors, John Lagos, Alan Swyer, Belkis Slama, Mark Payne, Dianne Lowe-Breakfield, Libay Linsangan, Anea De Guzman, Dann Barbare, Scott Bell, Diamante Lavendar, and Cristina Vega that came together to write a collection of poetry, memoirs, and short stories.  
 Person Suit link : https://www.amazon.com/Person-Suit-Anthology-Mental-Illness/dp/1514261405/ref=asap_bc?ie=UTF8
​

​Zombies and Conformity
By Nick “Novel” Gabanski
 
 
            We are a fickle people in a fickle society.  For the better part of my life, conformity seems to be the name of the game (which I’ve rarely participated in) and yet, pop-culture manages to pump out movies, books, and shows that emphasize the non-conformist.  The individual who goes against the crowd, is usually the underdog, and is all-around likeable.
            But what could I possibly mean by this?  Don’t believe me?  Then tell me why zombie apocalypse stories are so popular.  The entire concept of zombies is about nonconformity.  Still confused?  Horde of undead, flesh-eating zombies vs. a handful of survivors who have maintained their individuality and humanity.  These few ragged people have only one objective in these zombie stories: do everything in their power to not become infected and turn into a zombie.  Or get eaten alive.  Either/or.
            So really, with zombie apocalypse stories, the horde of the undead are really the mass population and all that they conform to.  The survivors are the nonconformists who go against the crowd.  This also seems to imply that the individuals have to endure great suffering and even pain to keep their individuality, which if you think about it, is quite accurate to how society works.  I was once asked what I thought of “Star Wars VII: The Force Awakens”.  My honest answer was, “I thought it was boring and it killed my interest in the franchise.” (If you, the reader, just gasped and disagreed with my statement, how does it feel to be part of the crowd?)  See what I mean?  The people who asked the question stared at me as if I’d just turned into the Antichrist or something.  The masses can be rather merciless when a nonconformist is discovered.  Typically, that person is ousted if they remain adamant in being true to themselves instead of bending to the will of the crowd.   Let’s be honest here, going with the crowd isn’t always the smart or right thing to do.
            Maybe it has something to do with this strange thing called “thinking”.  I can’t be certain, but from what I’ve experienced, most people do seem to act like zombies and do only what everyone else does.  So, in lieu of that note, I’ll keep on surviving in this zombie apocalypse called American Society, and I’ll continue to do so unto my last defiant breath.
 
 
 
Edited by Blair Hill
 
 

Maybe It Was Sleep Apnea
 
Zenobia Jackson told Officer Murphy that her husband, Rufus, was 73 years old and "a wonderful man when he was awake" but for the past year he had been jerking "something terrible" during his sleep and had kept waking her up. He'd swing his arms, she said, like those martial arts men he liked to watch so much on television. When the bouts were over, he'd give her a big kiss on the forehead and go to bed.
​
"Oh, he was just a doll," she said, "when he was awake."

In the last month, however, Rufus had fallen out of bed three times "fighting" in his dreams. In the morning he'd tell her he'd been dreaming that he was in a fight at work or back in high school many years ago. Sometimes he dreamt he was shooting at burglars breaking into their house in the old neighborhood. That's why they had to move to a different neighborhood and why he bought a gun, a little pistol he kept under his pillow just in case he heard someone in the house. You can't be too careful these days, he told her. He even taught her how to shoot the gun one night when no one else was on the tennis courts in Sherman Park. He said she was real good. Not many women, he said, can aim straight.

But last night, she said, he was dreaming again and swung his arms at least ten times, like he was chopping sugar cane back in Louisiana before they moved North. He caught her with an elbow to the eye and then another to the nose just as she was ducking. That's why she looks the way she does, she told Officer Murphy.

Long ago, she had stopped trying to wake him when he was thrashing about. It was because of the pistol under his pillow. He had reached for it one time right after she had shaken him. She had screamed and that woke him up and he wasn't too happy about it. He said he couldn't get back to sleep the rest of the night. And he wasn't lying because she was awake all night, too, listening to him grumble and curse.

Just a week ago, she had taken him to a sleep clinic where he had stayed overnight. The doctor said he suffered from sleep apnea but she had never heard of anyone with sleep apnea thrashing and kicking about like her Rufus. She had a lady friend in the choir at church whose husband had sleep apnea but all he did was "snore too loud," her friend said, no thrashing about.

"So that's how it happened," Zenobia told Officer Murphy, who was busy taking notes. Rufus had reached under the pillow for the pistol and she had to stop him.

"Two in the head," she said, "and he be dead."
 
Donal Mahoney

​Book Name: Fate and Fortune: A Collection of Stories
Author Name: Deniz Besim
Publisher Name: CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
Reviewed By: Jessica Bucci
 
ABOUT THE BOOK
Twenty-first Anniversary - Anne forgets an important day in her life but can she convince her husband that she's remembered? Mother Snowman - Amy designs a stunning snowman who comes to life and shows her a world she has never seen before. A Love Despaired - Calum has a secret he intends to tell Marissa. But will revealing his secret destroy their relationship? The Paper - A couple of girls visit a gypsy, both receiving a paper and strict instructions that if not followed, can have dire consequences. Caroline's Witness - The Old Farmer has lost his other half but only his dog knows what's really going on. The Curse of the Stone Statue - A young girl makes her way to an old castle hoping that she'll be the one who can break its haunted spell. The Government Boycott - Miri is in a fight to the death to do something about the oppressive government but when all is said and done will it go her way? A Day in the Life of Malcolm - A homeless man is suspicious of the charity of a well meaning stranger. Lord Medley - An important man is almost burnt to a crisp and Ellie has to find out what is going on.
 
MY REVIEW
Rating: 2/5    
Although the topic of each of the nine stories is unique and different, the plotlines seem underdeveloped, even for short stories. The details are far and few between, leaving the reader unable to fully grasp the message and intent of the stories. The concepts are interesting, especially when new worlds are created for the piece, but the lack of explanation causes some confusion. Some possess interesting twists and turns, but the endings feel incomplete. The length of each story varies drastically, and while I am normally a fan of varying sentence and story length, it was distracting. Now maybe I, as a reader, do not quite understand the nature of short stories or the author’s writing style, but it didn’t work for me. That is not to say that others would not enjoy the stories. As individual pieces the stories might be more appealing, but as a collection it feels random.
 
With that being said, I did enjoy the second story entitled ‘Mother Snowman (a Christmas story).’ This story felt whole and complete, from its characters to its plot to its ending. ‘Mother Snowman’ is a cute Christmas wish tale that reminded me slightly of ‘Toy Story.’ It was my favorite out of the collection. ‘Caroline’s Witness’ and ‘The Curse of the Stone Statue,’ caught my attention in terms of the concepts and point of views.
 
This collection is an interesting read, but may leave readers with an incomplete and confused feeling. Perhaps reading each story individually, in distinct settings, would help the reader to better understand each topic and outcome.
 
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Deniz Besim is a thirty-two year old lady who lives in London and used to teach creative writing to adults. She enjoys reading fiction and sometimes enters short-story competitions. She self-published two poetry books in 2014 (http://poetry-heaven.my-free.website). She enjoys walking, swimming and playing tennis in her spare time and sometimes attends author readings.
 
Amazon Link

DISCLAIMER: I received a copy of this book for free in exchange for writing a review. I was not obligated to give a positive review, and all thoughts are my own.
 
 

​Waiting for Answers to Resumes Mailed Weeks Ago
 
A phone call from anywhere would be nice,
even a call from that clerk at Sears
with an apology for charging that dryer
to my last employer
or even a call from the company I phoned
for estimates on the fence we need
to run to the alley, take two lefts,
and dash back to the house,
the fence we hope will keep the kids
from threshing the neighbor's
lilacs and phlox
or even a call from my wife
about the fever Meg had this morning
and a third reminder to record
the check for the penicillin.
Yes, today or tomorrow,
a phone call from anywhere would be nice.
 
 
Donal Mahoney

​Everybody Don't Have Somebody
 
The man in the ER,
sutured and bandaged,
told the nurse there wasn't
 
anyone she could call
to give him a lift home.
He said he'd take a bus
 
once he had a chance
to check his wallet and see
if he had any money.
 
He didn’t have much
to begin with, he said,
and the guy who left him
 
lying at the curb
probably took his money
along with his watch.
 
Otherwise why hit somebody
on the head from behind?
No other sensible reason. 
 
The man said he’d walk
if he didn’t have bus fare
because he’s living proof
 
everybody don't have
somebody who’ll come
and give you a lift home.
 
 
Donal Mahoney

​Armadillo Home
 
         Rush Hour, Chicago
 
Early evening traffic's
rather heavy.
Autos armadillo home
 
along the Outer Drive
as out of mouths of buildings
people enter mouths
 
of anything that moves
wherever every evening
they are going. Tonight
 
they interrupt the passion
of another person’s day,
the crone astride the hydrant
 
who once again this evening
bows and swoops and curses
as she burlaps broken glass
 
gives the finger to nice people
propped in autos staring
as she lets the traffic pass.
 
 
Donal Mahoney

​What Parents Have to Do with It
 
On holidays I hear from Paul,
who’s 80 if a day, who may
have won his war on poverty
without help from his friends.
He won’t accept a cent.
 
When he calls, he talks about
the poor, what he says they 
must do to get through life.
This time, though, Paul,
a bachelor, wants to talk
about love, what parents
have to do with it.
 
He says the only physical sign 
of love his parents offered was
his mother’s hand on his cheek.
She never said a thing but as
a child her touch nurtured him.
 
Tears would fill her eyes
followed by a rare smile.
No hugs or kisses but he 
never had to wonder why.
She had substance if not style.
 
Near the end of life Paul would
like to feel her touch once more,
says love between parent and child
is as perfect as love can be. 
 
Forty years ago Paul buried his father
who told him just once, no more,
after a six pack that he loved him.
He says his father worked two jobs
eight hours each, that said it all.
 
I listen to Paul whenever he calls,
agree with him when I can, stay 
silent when I can’t because I know
his scars run deeper than mine.
I’d never tell him my parents were
icicles compared with his but they
too worked just as hard for me. 
 
 
Donal Mahoney