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.
Tag Archives: #queer
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.
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.
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.
Dispatches from the Void. X.II
Rain, rabies, and ridiculous returns. This week’s mood? Bureaucratic despair with a side of soggy capitalism. But hey—we’re still packing, still protesting, and still clinging to the dream (and maybe a cat).
Dispatches from the Void. X.II
This week brought cobbled streets, cursed arcades, and a ceramic cat at the till. But beneath the joy—rage. We write about Gaza, grief, and why we’re building an unapologetically human, justice-fuelled flash anthology called Salt in the Wound. Because silence is complicity. And we are not quiet people.
Dispatches from the Void. X.I
Rain, rabies, and ridiculous returns. This week’s mood? Bureaucratic despair with a side of soggy capitalism. But hey—we’re still packing, still protesting, and still clinging to the dream (and maybe a cat).
Spotted Lanternfly
River’s poem begins with the stomp of a shoe on a lanternfly and spirals into something deeper—an uncomfortable, necessary meditation on violence, permission, and the human instinct to other. It’s not light-hearted. It’s not supposed to be.
#poetry #Spillwords #lanternflypoem #queerpoets #neurodivergentwriting #humancondition #resistcruelty #UnderlandPress
