Author
Jaia Papitz
124 works
Jaia Papitz is the founder and editor of iExile. A writer working across poetry, fiction, satire, and the unnamed forms between them, Papitz has published over 120 works on iExile since 2007. His writing moves through fracture, bureaucracy, longing, and the pressure of being alive inside language. He is the author of Bulă, or How We Invented Quantum (2026) and Voidward (2025), both from iExile Press.
The Freedom Phobia: Today Iran, yesterday America and always, I
It's common today to feel for the anguish of the Iranian people. It was humane, yesterday, to mourn for the Virginia Tech casualties. Two decades ago, we thought that the…
Read More →The Illusions from Ceiling
I am looking above and I see nothing is nothing to be seen else I do not want to look I shut my eyes cry, I pray to appear high…
Read More →The killer next door. You & I!
Awe hijacks the TV sets and the radio antennas tremble with shouts of pundits devouring the new breaking story. Another one of us, a human, has committed a horrible crime.…
Read More →The kiss, the satin & a year
The smile descended in the room past five One wall was made of shade the one erected on the pedestal of light is burning thin A kiss slipped thru the…
Read More →The known
in search of the metaphor of the truth bounded by 25 gods by known love, hated and in between running away from every juvenile center, society Ferel I couldn't become…
Read More →The last chance, we rigged
America the beautiful, at night & in the hi-def tv. set like the love of a whore in the distance untapped like a gazelle before the hunter's breakfast, is desired
Read More →The Mute Mermaid
Forsaking Mermaid’s cry beyond the shores, unbroken waves are crawling, vying for love of hers Billows of tides engulfed entirety of mine Whole depths reflecting in the skys Unhiding sighs…
Read More →The New World: America or The Last Chance We Rigged
1492 seems like a galaxy away yet The Dark Ages appear more prevalent than ever. The New World, accidentally or not stumbled upon, once discovered, it reignited the aspirations of…
Read More →The obtuse idiot cycle: Michelle Malkin
Just because one has an audience it doesn't mean that one has a valid reason to express. Michelle Malkin, in her recent post, the jihadi virus in our jails, states…
Read More →The obtuse idiot cycle: Rush Limbaugh
Listen! I do not agree with most American imperialistic policies. I'm not happy about Mr. Obama's accomplishments during his immature presidential term and I certainly refute the validity of the…
Read More →The one I knew
The immortal I met the other day Had died I’m told He went missing For as far as we remember Dead or unseen A same A he, a she or…
Read More →The System(atic)
The economy is a decaying corpse and, for our own sake and health, the rotten stiff must be cremated. The iv therapy applied to our social system it's just prolonging…
Read More →The unfaught fight
Let's fight until the fight is fought until the living mourns itself while the one is finally alone undigging the trenches on self waiting for at least one argument a…
Read More →To the light!
To the light! The army was marching to conquer. In the camp, in the night The spoken was born In the morning; with silence Too quiet to fight A battle…
Read More →To the other poet
I often dream Of the poet Whose qualms Were wiped by dementia In a vastly unpublished collection Whose neurons traveled Without fecundating us Buried under rubble Ash scattered by the…
Read More →UnAlphabetless
Should I spend the night with JustALizz? Nah! give her just a minute or two She’s almost in the middle, Mary’s that prudish kindda slut Change your mind & dial…
Read More →Unfriend
I just unfriended myself To enchant my detractors Jubilating at my clicked self loath Friends! Said I, this usb 3 mouse is indigestible to felines So, prey for me, unaware…
Read More →Unraped
Allow me the pain of a mortal don't remove the street sign, the crosswalk to the other curb, the mortgage or the ungrazable lawn of the pearly gates Let the…
Read More →Versus
Health care; an American vanity? A world's indolence? The metamorphosis of The Hippocratic Oath from a factual statement into a myth? The constant competition, just to bow into the spot…
Read More →Virtual
the face I see, I dream tomorrow I'd love my fingertips forgot the longing for whispers attics and shadows in above, deciphering braille on lover's sighs the shotgun father preparing…
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