Author: poetryfest

When it’s all over,
thank the Lord for the exposure.
For tumult on soil, camouflaged soldiers —
infants in torture, and deafening culture.

For suits spewing sludge, clad in magnanimous awe,
punching the button to enact martial law.
Will we all spring? Or have we seen fall?
Give us discernment to note You above all.

We’re agents of will, we hunt for what’s true —
ignorant of the barrier we’re called to break through.
Thank You…
for each truth, though troubled, received by the few
fortunate enough to forfeit life at the pew.

These youth are the future,the only right future.
Because they believe in you, because they believe in the truth.
As your power works through their bodies and minds,
all other feelings subside.

As you have saved, as you have healed, we will kneel,
kneel to the sky,
and cry out your name in glory.
With no shame or guilt.
Only the sturdy temple you’ve built,
a temple of hope and determination.

Praying away all wrongs,
as you died on that cross in return for our sins.
All of the victories you have won on behalf of us.
When you-my god are the true creator, the true maker of everything.
The great miracles you create.
Day by day.
Hour by hour.
Minute by minute.
Second by second.
We will no longer be reluctant, to explore the truth, to explore more of you.
And never stop faithfully following because we were made for you.
And for you we will serve, your message we’ll preserve.

For we constantly learn,
oh God how much we want you, how much we crave you.
As you cast away temptation, our faith shall never be taken,
not from us, not for granted, and not for the souls of a dying world.

May this town be blessed, blessed with the Holy Spirit my Lord.
Blessed as you hear them roar, roar a song of prayers.
Like a raging River-unstoppable,
only controlled by the almighty.
As their spirits light up and their lives’ change,
and their hope finally stays.
Coming from you the source,
the source of it all.
Making sure none of your children fall.
Calling them to their purpose, to the father of their nurture.
Only one in this room who is deserving, and that is you.
My lord, my savior,my truth

Thou art the melismatic chant of monks,
whose echoes haunt the stone walls with a splendour
near loosening the clutch on the bloodied crux;
as winter’s simple suffrage’s cold vapour
has voiced thy names, again and yet again,
I see the snowflakes falln upon thy lashes,
thou lean against the arcade’s gothic column,
with sighs that still must pass beyond those lips…
dissenting eyes so soft from meditation,
thy sooty robe confesses sleepless nights—
thou lift thy head as I turn yellow pages,
how long until the clapper clangs the bell?
The elements have allied in my plight,
sun, withdraw your light from beetle eyes,
and plotting winds, fly now from fluffy hair,
assailing hearts, like gulls the fisherman,
this trial, O Lord, has put me in Thy care.

it wasn’t hunger. not exactly.
but a fistful of air folded sharp
teeth on the edge of a cage
clawing at marrow.
the flavor thick and syrupy
stuck to my tongue
a rusted sweetness.
flipping soft gut to hard coil.
tearing the wet silk.

metal, bright and jagged,
hooked on its way down.
prayer, cold and chalk-smudged,
blooming damp beneath my palms.

something slid upward
a thing with no name,
the muggy and ancient,
the kind that sits
in your joints, gnawing softly,
familiar as breath.

soft pulp of a pear low and pulsing,
it was cleansing but not clean,
like spilling ink over every inch of a page.
humming low,
soft as a vulture’s stench
on the edge of carrion,
tasting archaic and bitter.

Again.

Imagine a garden.

Now, imagine a girl.
Her age is uncertain.
Her girlhood is, also.
Some still call her a child, others
stare at her like they do at women
who are ten years older.

She has always lived here,
and though it doesn’t feel like home exactly,
it doesn’t feel like hell, for sure —
more like a gentle cage, whose
golden gates one got used to.

Her name doesn’t matter.
Her age doesn’t either.
What matters is that pain,
in her stomach, the bitterness
that settled in her throat.

She lies there, on the grass.
She has been for hours.
She watches the trees above,
or the clouds, or nothing at all,
she just cannot find sleep,
nor break her own silence.

A man has lain with her,
just a few nights ago.
Or were those weeks,
or perhaps months?
Barely matters either.

What matters is:
he came and talked to her,
when she was the saddest,
took her to the rose garden.
He showed her the flowers,
he talked about colors, petals,
how rare their beauty is.

They stayed there for hours,
she still can’t remember
how it happened that they
ended up there, naked,
and she was in his arms,
but she still feels the taste
of salt in her mouth as he
was sleeping.

One by one your teeth are chipping, breaking, rotting away and then falling out;
that’s one of the things about substance abuse you were warned about.
I mean eventually your health will deteriorate but fortunately this minor inconvenience has a slow
start,
at the end you’re standing one foot in the grave constantly worrying about the beat stopping of your
heart.

Your bladder is fucked, kidneys pounding and liver aching
and it’s just a matter of time before your sanity soul starts escaping…
That’s what I suppose we call the point of no return?
That part of your life where you start embracing the thought of hell’s burn.

Always thinking this beat is the last one your heart is gonna give;
it’s been 5 fucking years and yet I still live?
Now to live with heroin addiction plus worrying about all that shit every single fucking day,
now that really fucks you over and take every single one of life’s little joys away…

Always lost in this huge dark ocean of hate, fear and despair,
standing at deaths door and still for one single second you don’t even care?
You really need to figure out what the fuck you have to do?
God dammit! you’ve even been stupid enough to sniff petrol and the odd bit of glue.

You really have to sort out your fucking head
cause otherwise I’ll die with nothing but loads of fucking regret..

The sky is dark and vast.
Wrapped around Gaia like a sad, dark cast.
Raindrops fall like silent tears.
The sound not reaching our ears.
Leaves rustle gently in the breeze.
Wind that sounds more like a wheeze.
The sun blocked off by vast darkness.
The wind lashes out with such harshness.
The animals hide in fear of death.
The world goes quiet and holds its breath.
A darkness that grows and never leaves.
A world that goes and silently grieves.

In battles fought on foreign land,
I stand here weary, sword in hand.
For duty calls, I must obey,
But my soul weeps, day by day.
A soldier’s life, a heavy load,
A lament that cannot be foretold.
With every step, the ground I tread,
I carry memories of the fallen dead.
The horrors witnessed, burned in my mind,
Their faces etched, forever entwined.
Friends and comrades, forever lost,
Their sacrifice, at such a cost.
In the darkest nights, I hear their cries,
Echoes of pain that won’t subside.
I close my eyes, and see their faces,
A haunting reminder of war’s dark traces.
I long for peace, for tranquil days,
Where swords can rest, and hearts can raise.
But until then, I’ll press on strong,
For my duty insists, I can’t be wrong.
Yet deep within, a soldier cries,
Hoping for peace before he dies.
For in the end, it’s love we seek,
Not war and violence, but solace meek.
So let us pray for a world at peace,
Where conflict ends, and hatred cease.
May soldiers find solace in the end,
Forever mourned, but never forgotten, my friend.

Fingers fish hooked
the corners of my mouth
pried my eyes open
by the lashes
and from my throat
died a curdled yelp

my body pushed backward through itself
into the chilled surface
fingernails bending
failing to grasp a hold
through the blending
white and purple lights

odious gray men
prodded me
tightened the straps
on my naked body
rocked
in gooseflesh

they shoved my gurney
in a white cylindrical chamber
humming and whirling
and bolted the hatch

I saw the flames
lick my body
the silhouettes
past my screaming
of the little men
wide eyed and cheering

Ever loved a man so bad,
Then realized he took advantage of the love you had?
But it’s okay, I’m loving myself more than I did in the past.
I’m not trying to bash, it’s all love,
Just thinking why I accepted
What I allowed in the past.
Still disgusted when I think of when he spit in my face
And treated me like trash.
I don’t want sympathy, just venting, because I’m still
Healing from trauma that hasn’t passed.
I didn’t love myself enough to allow what I had.
Finding an outlet so I can finally make peace with my past.
I gave forgiveness and never got an apology back.
No one to blame,
Because it was me who wanted us to last,
Forcing love
With a man who didn’t give it back.
Pouring into him, and he never poured into me back.
Now I’d rather be alone,
Knowing my worth is 10x that.
So listen to this message:
If you’ve ever been through something, take it as a lesson.
You are a queen, nothing less than.
God-made,
A blessing at that.