Author: poetryfest

The sea beyond the seas the universe beyond itself

the other creation

the invisible force pushing forward to create the poem

the poet’s invisible voice to love poetry

the invisible song of the angels

The invisible love tie of the birds to the eternal horizons

to break the walls

to break the invisible dark voice of demons

to drive away unhappiness in the midst of a sea of rubble

the invisible voice that attracts us as a magnet to the possible future

despite the sorrows

despite the ruinous wind that devours the solitudes

in spite of the sinister one was that it buried us in the sinuous mud of the most stinking wells of the earth

Despite the sorrows

the universe exists

the flower is born

time passes

the water changes course

the cool breeze of summer

relieves

the pain

The Other Creation is Not of the Sorrows

is of the angels that did not fall

and are absolved by the legitimate memory of truths

The other Creation is from the memory of the orb

that dries her tears

and writes poetry.

Life is what happens
while you’re making other plans,
Wind blows the sand, time never stands.

Got to To get out of this trance.
No more Blind Romance.
Time to take a Stance.

Affected by the World but I am all alone.
Walking and talking to the ground,
People around, but I don’t make a sound.

Got to get out of this trance,
No more Wicked Substance.
Time to take a stance.

Time to take a stance.
To stand for something that says,
I’ve got a chance!
To tear down the walls
That kept me from my calling,
Not fearing the height Or if I may start falling, because the The Ground will be my net.

It’s the fear of not trying,
That makes little babies start crying,
Middle-aged neurotics start dying
And everyone else-in-between,
Still gett’in High’in.

I’m not a Victim
but it’s the Symptom.
You don’t know what you’ve done, to some,
Question why they’re born, they’re torn,
From your scorn, it’s ALL wrong.

I’m perpetrating my own angle,
Gonna get it all untangled.
I’ve ah-Row-zin
And it’s time to tell the people,
ALL of US HERE, Are still The CHOSEN,
The CHOSEN!

Life Is What Happens –
While You’re Making Other Plans.
Life Is What Happens –
While You’re Making Other Plans.
Life Is What Happens –
While You’re Making Other Plans.

So book the flight, take the train,
Because when you are thru,
There are no more rendezvous
No one left to sue,
No more fools, schools or
Late-night crews, to keep You.

Unless you thought
Not being here is better?
I doubt you want the OTHER,
SLEEPING UNDER,
a Bridge or alleyway,
without the CARE of your MOTHER
With no better way in sight,
Just an empty stage and you’re up, all-night, stage-fright, out of sight,
can’t even move a might.

So You take a deep breath.
You push it away, from your face,
Into outer space, if that’s the case,
Cause it’s just a waste, of what’s NOT YOU.

This time take-in another.
With all the SOUL of a baby
Breast-feeding on its mother.
And then you will discover.
How precious the time,
when You were blind,
Stepping on land mines,
Committing petty crimes.

But ALL the “KIND” Was still WAITING
A N T I C I P A T I N G,
Looking FOR AN-O U T
To get enough C L O U T,
To scream and shout,
I’M F R E E-FROM-IT-ALL,
I don’t have to climb a Brick Wall.
I can start planting My Own Seeds,
Start doing good deeds,
Start smiling at people, I meet,
On the street with REPEAT.

And I will not forget to remember,
R E M E M B E R !!
It’s a new day & We are ALL
Members of an E L I T E group we call,
The Human Race!
The Human Race?
We Use to be Human’s “just Being.”

Let me tell You about,
The Human Race.
It use to be called, The RAT!
CLAWED by The Cat!
Who later Got Run-Over And went SPLAT,
Because “IT” WAS never “ALL-THAT”,
Because “IT” forgot what “IT”was chasing.

For the sake of regressing,
I’ve got to go start addressing.
I’ve got PLANS to SEE,
And PEOPLE to MAKE.
That’s PLANS to SEE & PEOPLE to MAKE

So do me a favor, Check out the Weather,
P E A C E of M I N D, Can be FOREVER,

Life Is What Happens –
While You’re Making Other Plans.
Life Is What Happens –
While You’re Making Other Plans.
Life Is What Happens –
While You’re Making Other Plans.

For hundreds of years my people have been silenced

Our voices drowned out by those above us

Treated like dolls to be dressed and played with

Tearing our roots out from under us

Changing our ways and ripping our families apart

Feeling like my voice goes unheard day after day

Taking away our land and destroying it piece by piece

Hurting the trees

Building up towers and buildings

Creating ways to destroy what our ancestors and mother nature once created

You have tried to break us again and again

But we will stand together and spread the word of love

Reminding our children of the way forward in our world

Teaching them how to build back what was horribly broken

Showing them that we stand together forever and always

We will not be silenced

And we will never be forgotten

— by Eliana Yaron

Fun times,
So fast
Boring times,
Sadly. Slow.
Why
Does
Time
Hate
Me?
Deadline,
It’s too soon.
Birthday,
Way too far.
Why
Does
Time
Hate
Me?
Luckiness with time,
Apparently none.
Unfortunateness with time,
An Unfortunate amount.
It might be surprising
But
Time
Hates
Me

-Chloe Scott

Great Sky Tonight

I’ve been through an amount of money
Passionate
Though substantial
Passing in and out of emotions
Kissed hello
Fucked farewell

Do you know? Why?

Just to look into your eyes ~
Big, Beautiful, bright
True like life… goodbye cried
I guess, I think, I feel
I will… just wander… just hope
Like this day was worth the price of dream

A Wish~

A vision from a tree, a lake, below this dress
Blinding light focus
Her face
Sun setting mood
Side by side we
lied
So easily, each other’s passing thought
This moon will light or try lest dying
Outside lover, goodnight
I walked into some bar at 21 and rocked out at 39

I hear the rustle of bags as you shuffle back and forth with each load, seeing you steadily concentrating, shifting carefully but quickly to manage the weight of the suitcase in the narrow, awkward hallway. I watch from a distance as you tread up and down the stairs, across the cold, bare floor with the steady rhythmic focus of a driver ant marching back to its nest.

Before, you had borne a half-smile on the one occasion. It had peeked out of the corner of your mouth, though not, of course, in my direction. Never in my direction. And though it had dissolved as quickly as it appeared, I was grateful for the rare display. I cherished it like a relic from our youth, an era when our souls bore only cracks. That was before our parents’ words of commendation – at times bestowed, then at other times withheld like currency and dispersed unequally – slowly turned the cracks into rifts, then over the years, chasms.

Today as I round the corner, there is no smile for me as I try to peer into the desert of your face. In its place is the line of your callused jaw, emanating its relentless message. Your silence lashes into me. It hangs in the air, heavy as the floor-to-ceiling brocade that grazes the living room floor.

Upstairs, all the doors in the house are closed, barring the sunlight that normally streams in and dances off the small chandelier. Instead, only dark shadows imprint themselves on the landing. I feel the weight of their gloom – the thousands of untold grievances buried deep inside the walls.

Finally, you announce your last load. I hear you issue farewells, but in another language the lyric chatter banishes me, casting me into a tomb in the Tower of Babylon.

You turn and leave. You confront me with your rigid shoulders, your cold spine, and even as I watch the small of the back of your head slowly shrinking, I know that the map of your face bears for me only the legend of your black, sering eyes, your thin, taught mouth.

And after your final steps, I gaze past at the barren cloak of snow that arrived wordlessly in the night. In its whiteness it bears no identity, no history, a dense blanket that tells no tales, reveals no secrets. And I stand there wondering how long it will stay, muffling the stifled, frozen grass below, bearing down with all its weight.

There’s no fighting fair
When you look around to find there is nobody there
Another waning memory
That vanishes in the air
Nothing is off limits
No one really cares

There’s ecstasy in jealousy and living in a blur
Crossing lines that I didn’t draw
And didn’t try to learn
I’m not here to poke the bear
Or blow fire in your ass
I just want a life that’s mine
And I’m not giving it back

There is patience in uncertainty
And denial in belief
The parts of me that are on display
Are not my property
The music plays and I wrote the words
So they keep time
What I give isn’t mine to lose
So enjoy it happily

My tongue
My face
Your thought
This place
My sound
Your noise
No chance
No choice

There’s two ways of looking at Prussian Blue.
If you’re Vincent van Gogh you use it
to paint a starry night,
and the blue seems like any velvety night.
Rich, deep blue wrapped around everything.
The sky studded with diamonds,
the water striped with light.

But then there’s the other way.
Prussian Blue treats radiation sickness,
and you know you’ve stumbled on
another way of looking at Prussian Blue,
entirely,
when you find out that the US government
has bought vast quantities of this paint,
which is stored in a top secret facility.
All that blue, blue paint,
waiting,
for a dirty bomb,
or a full blown nuclear attack.

What would Vincent think of that?
Who would know better than him
humanity’s infinite capacity for self-destruction.
With his brain steeped in wormwood
and no friend but his brother Theo,
he knew all too well,
how human beings can set their face
against a different face.
How they can spurn and mock and attack
those who make them afraid.
As he made them afraid,
with his mad art,
and his love that was too wild,
too big for their small lives.

Antonia Hildebrand (c) 2022

This is the beginning of a revolution
I saw in the darkest penetration
I will summarize you, but
In the form of tattoos all over my body

This is the beginning of a revolution
The war of lions and deer is the beginning
The best time to hunt wolves and ewes
The last black dot of the dawn time

Not everything is glorious
The rebellious symbol of change within
The thought that eats away at your soul
Resurrection is something that’s out

We are a secular mentality, but
You are objectively a revolutionary
Take the button off your shirt
Until the hair becomes gently blue

You are like the eighty-eighth catastrophe
You taught us a great lesson
Each single branch dies soon
Reason is the only way to freedom

You are a revolutionary for me
Eternal avant-garde on a strip
Greater than Marx and Hegel
You have a higher thought than Nietzsche

You are a revolutionary for me
This penetrating presence is not accidental
The meaning of your gaze mediates me
There is no split in our bond

Behzad Asadi

lights flashed through the car window
illuminating your face, even for a brief moment
your beauty shined brighter
than any luminous entity
that could have made itself present
through that car window
on that very night

rob scallon was playing through the stereo
the song happened to be called
“a collapse”
i think of it as
a collapse of skewed views
of previous opinions
on what love really is
a collapse of fear
pressure
doubt
pain
instead, it shall be a rise
a rise of trust
happiness
pleasure
strength
safety
love.
my love for you doesn’t fade
it will always be present
just like the lights flashing through the car window
on that very night
on your very face
with such a pretty smile