Sound of the Underland – Page 5 – River and Celia Underland

#Get Ready With Me.

A liturgy of taps and tragedy.
Cute dogs. Contoured faces. War zones.
This piece scrolls through the noise of curated apathy —
#Gaza #Bisan

How Privileged Are You, Really? Find Out Now.

You’ve taken quizzes for fun. This one’s not.
A brutal, eerily familiar journey through childhood, work, love, and loss—told through three life paths. Pick your answers. A, B, or C. There are no right choices. Just the ones you recognise. Some more than others.

Dispatches from the Void. X.III

Salt launched early (because patience is for capitalists). River won a challenge on a site run by bots and tech bros. The cats staged an emotional protest. We made pesto. Also, Celia did an interview and accidentally sounded wise. Chaos, poetry, and spite—just another week in Underland.

Salt in the Wound.

Salt in the Wound is out now.
We didn’t make this anthology to soothe or distract. We made it because silence felt worse.
Every page turned is a scream in ink—against injustice, inequality, erasure.
This is print as protest. Resistance you can hold.
Featuring work from 21 fierce contributors who chose to write anyway.
Read it. Share it. Salt the wound.

Art Under Siege

I made paintings. Tech advanced I let the algorithm chew on them. fAce-lIft™ is what happened when I asked AI to distort, not dictate — to echo, not replace. The result? Something almost beautiful, slightly haunted, and very much still mine. If that makes you uncomfortable… good. Come look anyway.

Let Them Eat Eggs.

When Chuck woke up craving eggs, he didn’t expect to lose his savings, his freedom, or his species classification by lunchtime. In a world run by poultry monopolies and algorithmic demagogues, he learns the hard way: it was never about the ducks.

Art Under Siege

A Life in Three Parts.

This piece wasn’t written to win—it was written to survive. River’s Pride Under Pressure winner is a raw, unfiltered reflection on trauma, transition, and love. That it was recognised means more than we can say. It’s proof that truth, even when it hurts, resonates.

Dispatches from the Void. X.II

The wardrobe has vanished, the neighbour’s smoking crack, and Zionists are being platformed while dissent is muted. We’re packing, protesting, and somehow still writing. Rage, rain, and resistance: another week in Underland.

For When They Drag Me Off to Prison.

for when they drag me off to prison.
not if — when.
new poem. no metaphors. just betrayal, blue bracelets, and the quiet violence of your vote.
read it.
then ask yourself what you’ll tell your children.