To be alone in deep silence, To be in birdsong Beside oceans and waterfalls , To be a lone wolf in the wild... Rambling along mount sides, Among trees. This is who I am and where I belong, It is not in a house It is not in a city. The animals are my brethren. I share my grief with the silence keeper
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About
Ozymandeus is a community journal publishing new, original writing from around the world. Without a political or literary manifesto, the journal exists as a forum for the literary expression of its contributors – you.
Original submissions of poetry, prose, dialogue, non-fiction and any other forms of the written word are gladly received for publication.
Ozymandeus is founded on the conviction that the ordering of the modern world dampens creativity and smothers expression, in all its forms. Too many stories are untold. Scrawled on the shadowed pages of notebooks or penned in our minds they yellow and fade away. Within them and between them lie disparate visions of the worlds we live in and experience, real or imagined. Ozymandeus is their salon, and all are welcome.
The Earth is laid low by an invisible enemy: a genetic invader provoking peoples’ immune systems into a lethal storm. Caligulas sit on its thrones, and swathes of their people bid Incitatus to assume tribunician power, citing their gods. Compelled to stay home and apart we look on as the world we’ve known recedes before us, day by recurring day, across lone and level sands stretching far away.
Of Ozymandias’ kingdom- long since condemned by hubris and consumed by the desert: only his words remain.