Author: poetryfest

One day, I woke up with two left legs

Don’t think it’s easy

At every step, I stumble
The shoe doesn’t fit
I keep walking in circles
leaning leftward
But to reach the right,
all I have to do is walk too far left

I don’t walk fast because I always have to think where and how to place my feet

Many times, I need help
With direction and with balance
The most important thing is a steady arm,
the company

It’s not easy at all
But both work just fine to dropkick a fascist’s face
I’ve tested it

(Make America Lame Again)

If Jesus was a man, He was written by a woman.

He would have been an ally A brother And a friend.

So why do you give me a Jesus you don’t understand?

Why does your Jesus say it’s okay to follow me down alleyways as I squeeze my partner’s hand
tighter and tighter terrified you’ll grab me and say how I have sinned while I only care that I
created the cancer that makes me a mother you scream that I’m a murderer (like I don’t
know that) I’m walking faster shaking more struggling with my keys against
the fight or flight that killed my fingers my car can’t unlock fast enough
and this parking lot is so much bigger than it needs to be I see a face I
think I know oh God she taught my grade ten physiology she knows
every pastor in the state an advocate for the unadvocatable
(at least that’s what she thinks) I’m scared you mangle
the words inside my head screaming out “you
fucking whore, do you not care for human
life?” I hide my head to save you the
burden of knowing the face of a
murderer matches your
daughter’s I open the
car door and you
grab my arm
YOU GR
AB MY
AR
M

why would you do this to me?

If Jesus was man, He was written by a woman.
A woman who would understand the hypocritic shouts of slurrers and southerners
Would do nothing but make a woman want to cry, And a man feel empowered.
As if I was nothing but a body for pleasure and parentage.
If Jesus was a man, he wouldn’t be like you.

.

I think you’re forgetting something
Listening to too many mouths running
Promising to protect your piece of the pie
Swearing somebody’s out for your slice

I think you’re missing something
Between lines in the dirt there’s nothing
You can see connecting us to them
I think you missed the obvious evidence

The blood in our veins that all bleeds red
Our yearning to lay our children safe in their beds
Altruistic values that encourage us to do what’s right
The whole damn message of Jesus Christ
“You shall not wrong or oppress a resident alien;

You were aliens in the land of Egypt”

But I’m just an atheist quoting Exodus

And believers don’t even listen to Jesus

Yeah I think you missed something
Empathy, compassion, loving
You got the marginalizing memo instead
Only matters where your own baby lays her head

I can’t comprehend those blinders you wear

To compartmentalize and justify what’s unjust and unfair

To suspend empathy and sympathy for a certain demographic

As if human rights are dependent on geographics
Oh my your Christ would not approve
He’d strip his church of your twisted truths
He’d chase you from the pews, overturn the tables
Where billionaires eat and remind you of the stable

No room at the Inn?
For the least of these, the immigrant?
No food for empty little brown hands?
No sojourner welcome in your land?

Yeah I think you bought it for a price
The fear mongering preacher’s and politician’s lies
Your precious piece of the American pie
But you missed something between bites

You’d think Christians would be quick
to advocate for anybody but the devil.
Yet who is first to complain
when David throws his stone?
Ambushing the noble Goliath
like a gutless coward
before he could meet the shepherd
in more honorable combat.
Sword vs. Crook
Tank vs. Tunic

The Pious wait for a
Rapture in progress
their eyes glued to the heavens
as the trip over the clothes and corpses
of the meek and the merciful
unaware they’ve been left behind.
Those persecuted peacemakers
withered with neglect, if they’re lucky
at least die in when God calls them home.
The cold ground, for them, a warmer hearth
than these houses of Unconditional Love.
Those less fortunate, seen by their saviors
discover just what God’s children do
to the least of their brothers.

Sitting pretty in their homes
long since forsaking their earthly church
it’s sermons too long, it’s pews too hard
(and not to mention communal!)
Modern missionaries sow from the sofa
reciting scripts, never reading scripture
so their message, not God’s, can be spread
in 30 seconds or less.
Them belly full
reading Matthew 19:24
and thanking God for the man
that fit a camel in a Cuisinart.

Mr. Credit and Mr. Cash
hanging on the wall
as soon as the light goes out in the shop
and the owner leaves the place
at night, at night the money stops jingling, jingling
and Mr Credit and Mr Cash are alone
and both are still hanging on the wall
and Mr Credit clears his throat at first
and Mr Cash rolls his eyes
because they are not facing each other
but are on the same wall, in the same system
because Mr Cash is only Mr Cash because Mr Credit is Mr Credit
and this system has actually replaced another one
“capitalism is capitalism because monarchy is no longer monarchy”
says Mr Cash to Mr Credit
but soon Mr Cash and Mr Credit will no longer be hanging on the wall
and lie united in a box on top of each other after all these years
and Mr Credit will be on top of Mr Cash
and they will gather dust together
and in their place will hang a dusty queen
instead of Lenin’s portrait

november fifth
crestfallen and dejected
peace is now a myth
everyone is affected

a country
disconsolate
half the people
victims of hate
a leader
whose own daughter
he would date
a president
who leaves his people
irate
a politician
who’s a felon and cheapskate
a man
who only likes women
he can sedate

his egregious “policies”
and denigrating qualities
derisory remarks
and the orders he barks
marks the beginning
of his federal sinning
and morals thinning
he manages to keep winning
despite his lies spinning

his only cares
are control and power
a man who can’t share
who only empowers
other knavish white men
and yet again
we live in a country
where women
are owned and controlled
their “only use” to be boned
and it seems
freedom
has been postponed

Dozens of stars twirled their celestial bodies
To the rhythmic tunes of Jazz and Blues
illuminating with sparks filled with glee
Its transcending society was unquestionably free

Growth persisted—all stood on their own two feet
Until one day, a single star intended to take society’s radiance
He was short, ill-tempered, and would fight anyone who dared disagree
ideas spurted from his mouth nonsensically
He’d slither—directing the masses

Erratic tangents filled with rage
Declarations that demanded change
“You roll yourselves in harmony. Let’s make a system with progress, and we shall call that peace.”
But once the stars succumbed to this unbeknown allure—monarchy fastened
A calamity

Years erode—faith surrenders to hell
When a star speaks of the memories, they’re lynched until they squeak
Their luminosity sparks with disastrous pleas
The throne is chosen. and a system of greed is the main focus
Art, literature, and love—Subjects meant for God

“Money, economy, tyranny—that’s society’s unquestionable freedom
Where we chain workers to a wage and hours that they’re forced to maintain
As I lay down on my sofa
They bring me my champagne
Keep making me money as I wander away
But be warned that my eyes are heavy
You make a mistake, and you’ll owe me plenty
Your soul will never fly; it’s mine; now stay.”

Up to now, this hand was faith’s divinity
Revolutions commence in hopes of obtaining life
Stars failed, and they hid in burrows—like warthogs to leopards
Most were preyed on by pointed, tainted teeth
They were never to be seen
Plagues widened as the stars labored away
It’s ravenous cells multiplied on the frail community
Millions died—politicians & the wealthy simply dined

Dad?
Yes, son?
Can I ask you a question?
Of course.

Today, the teacher scolded me for
making fun of Judy’s stutter.
Well, I guess she is saying you shouldn’t do that.

Have you ever eaten a banana with peanut butter on it?
I think so. When I was younger.
We tried that during recess today and I loved it.

When do you think I will be old enough
to go camping on my own?
Do you want to go camping all by yourself?
Maybe. I was just wondering.

What is bankruptcy?
When a business fails.
Our math teacher said it and I never heard that word before.
Have you ever been bankruptcy?
Bankrupt. No, decent people pay their debts.

When you first met mom, did you
move on her like a bitch and grab her by the pussy?
What?
I heard the TV and you laughed so loud I thought
that was how you first met mom.
Don’t ever say that again, you hear me?

We made cardboard clocks in school this week.
Did you ever do that?
I’m not sure.

the air tastes like rot
like something buried too long beneath your indifference
a million voices choking in the same breath—
but you’re here,
waging wars on libraries
tearing at the spines of books
while your people are crushed beneath ceilings
cracked by storms they couldn’t escape

does it soothe you,
banning the trans kid who just wants to
exist?
to make laws out of fear and call it
protection,
while the soil dries to dust
and rivers crawl slower than your
sense of urgency?

you have no answers—
only distractions:
who gets to love who,
who gets to read what,
who gets to live how.
but the ground splits open behind you,
swallows whole towns,
and you have nothing to offer
but the clench of your fist
on a red pen,
underlining the names
you’d rather erase.

priorities?
a mother watches her child
wade through a flood
to reach the house
that isn’t there anymore.
a farmer breaks open his own hands
searching for life in a land
you let die.
a child breathes their last
while you’re busy
deciding if they had the right to be.

and when it all falls down—
when there’s nothing left to govern,
nothing left to rule—
will you call it victory?
is this what you call priorities?

Purpose of a mannerism,
shed I but a tear betrayed
when that boy was shot;
and resounding gasped a
world aggrieved, for their
youth perceived itself
where bullets hail ever.

Life knew once that fight
belongs where good men
die; though wherest once
dwelt a kindred has since
become enemy to another.
Wiser was a rock that
perceived itself shaken.

Kinder was that day
before this night fallen
upon the silt of gauntlet
so fraught dear of lies;
and to believe kind will
duly should have seen
where goes the hand.

Late, we are, to believe.
Early we become to war.
Cancel, for tooth and jaw
should be the law; and
fire has its crown in the
annals of time where
once regal knew brave.