Author: poetryfest

You see
I would love to invite you over to my dirty little house on the edge of los angeles underneath the dying
palm tree
on a hill of dust and sand

but unfortunately I have no room as I have too many characters
here residing with me;
sleeping on the couch,
and underneath the dining room table,
and on top of the washing machine that is adjacent to the kitchen as it rumbles through the night
doing my laundry,
and my roommates’ laundry,
and my roommates’ girlfriends’ laundry too

No, I would love to have you come over to my house in los angeles,
with its blue stairs leading up a hill into the darkness of the night
but as I said I have no room;
and my roommates have been kind enough
to let these character share our space for a time and I cannot impose upon them any further
But let me know when you make your plans and buy your airline tickets and I will see if these
characters are still with me then
or if nally I have saved the document and turned o my laptop for the night.

The bedroom is on fire
and you’re reciting scripture–
amidst that ashy candlelit mirage
with hands gripping onto her charred
remains
sacrificial lamb strewn across the tile
waxy skin melting off bone,
finger to wick
planting petrol infused kisses upon
disintegrating lips
through drunken words in
worn-down confessionals
where you were told to sculpt your
spine like a pew
in which people could sit until urges
were forgotten
to contort your back into a table-top
for Man
to rest their hands on, where they
could pray until you’re
worthy of God’s love

to let them eat your body like bread
and
drink your blood like wine
until there is nothing left but
communion of the pieces you once
were
scattered about the gasoline-doused
flooring
you remember becoming Hansel and
gretel on your wedding day
only to leave her figmented crumbs
and a mouthed amen and i do behind
stained glass

We must cultivate our garden” – Voltaire

I’m sorry
I can’t nurse your wounds
my morphine poison dart frog saliva
was wasted on papercuts
and you come to me missing a ventricle and
I-
can offer you nothing
I leave you fallow
because I must tend my
pain
and so I tend my own self
[in rock soil]
like a serpent mound
C u r l e d around my aorta
while you lie [next to the river]
and flood with emotion and why
I-
can’t tend to you
is a mystery to me
it’s a mystery to you too
but I lay here and pick rocks from [clay]
and pick rocks from [my flagellated back]
and roll neosporin on [my elbows]
and resuscitate my halting rhythm
I plow deeper among salted earth
and I am

CARTHAGE
and I am the wind driving off
the [plains of Zama]
reeling from the Third Polemic War
pilum driven deep in solar plexus
under Saharan solar flare
because as much as I wish this weren’t true
I know that it is
that it is true
that it’s true that
I-
am not cultivating my own garden
but tending a briarpatch
pruning Russian thistle
and deadheading multifloral rose.
I-
am not growing a garden
I’m digging graves two feet apart eighteen feet long and four inches in the ground
to bury my heart at [Lake Trasimene]
when I could be gardening
but I won’t allow myself near enough [the plot]
The plot
of an unwritten novela
Anyone attempting to find
A plot
in it will be shot

so bury me

Have a baby.
It’s selfish if you don’t.
Raise the baby.
Even if you won’t
Be able to provide for the baby.

Have a baby.
Who cares who the dad is.
Care for the baby.
It doesn’t matter it’s
Your own father’s baby.

Have a baby.
You have a duty.
Nurture the baby.
Causing mutiny
Between mother and baby.

Have a baby.
You’ll regret it later.
Love the baby.
Even if you grow to hate her,
She’ll always be your baby.

“Great liars are also great magicians”- Adolf Hitler

Slender sinister serpents poison the souls of humanity, accumulating atrocities
Blurred visions lead to deadly decisions, violence, and ferocity
Men walk along the left-handed path disregarding their character and morality

The great deceiver, lord of lies, the traitor of kings
The ambassador of ambition, master of mirrors, the son of the morning

The light bringer, brings a promising proposal
He has many students, but most never know they are ever in attendance

Lucifer lights their path with false justifications for the most forbidden acts
Wars are fought both internal and external

The Baphomet’s torch lit amongst the darkening night sky
Till bodies become limp crossing over to the other side

A cackling laughter cascading from the deep below
Emperor Nero laughs with Louie while smoking a pipe by his fireplace
In a friendly banter they discuss humanities dueling duality

History repeats itself
Some choose to forget
Some have had their memories stolen

Hermes auctioned off their memories to resident demons in Hades
Although, he was a strong advocate of immigration and border crossing

Very few can appreciate the nature of wisdoms taste
Christ (a Jewish carpenter, supernatural man of the meek) will never return
But not because we don’t deserve him
But because he’d suffer the same fate

Very few can look past the smoke
Whenever there is smoke there is fire
Hatred has most certainly become the new currency
Blind to the evil eye that watches over them, the sheep close the curtains

Every sheep needs a herd
And every herd needs a herder

It’s ironic that in a world of wolves, in a land of lions
The sheep are the ones who murder
Their eyes resemble those of the Goat
The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree

Fickle fauns and sinful satyrs fall in step with autocrats automatically
Still waiting to see how this dreadful dance pans out
Pan throws one hell of a party with Adolf downstairs
They invited Donald Trump, but he was too busy to attend

Dictators have the power to dictate human thought
Only the wise and only the just can exorcize this demonic possession

By not succumbing to fear
By not scapegoating those cut from a different cloth
By only killing each other with kindness
Only then will hell’s heroes be defeated

The most important thing is, you need to abort fascism early.
The longer that you let fascism gestate, the harder it becomes to excise.
In fact, if you wait until the third fascist administration, by then, it’s far too late.
It’s already basically the government at that point; you can’t abort a government!
What are you, a traitor?
Ideally, you want to abort fascism in the first six years.
At that point, it’s barely a clump of bigots, it doesn’t even have a platform yet.
But once your first fascist Senators are up for re-election,
If you haven’t nipped the problem in the bud,
Then you’re in for a much more difficult process.
And no, there are no allowances for fascism by force
Illegitimately elected fascists are, unfortunately, still elected fascists
Even if your state is represented by fascism against its voters’ wills
Doesn’t mean you get an exemption
Now now, I hear what you’re saying.
“How would we even know if we had fascism at that point?
We thought we were living in a liberal democracy.”
And that’s why you have to pay extremely close attention to the signs.
Do you wake up in the morning, glance at your phone, and then puke?
Are you worn out and fatigued from fighting battles that seemed settled a generation ago?
Are your billionaires bank accounts starting to look bloated and distended?
If any of those apply to you, there’s a strong chance that you’re growing a miniature fascism
inside your country
And eventually, if you don’t abort it, it will emerge from within you, doing incalculable damage on
its way
And once it’s out in the real world?
Forget about it.
That lil’ guys not going anywhere.
So again, I repeat to you, you’ve got to catch it early
How to abort fascism, though?
I don’t have any fucking clue.
I was asking you.

the funny thing about being of age to vote, of maturity
to have an opinion, and stances on the state of things,
on the state of the world and who runs it, is that

when you speak to a six-year-old, to a nine-year-old, to an eleven-year-old,

and you ask them, someone who
has never known anything but
fairness and equal as ways to treat other people

things they’re taught from the time they can, in fact, be taught anything

When you ask them who should have rights,
who should be allowed to have a say,
and to work, and to have a home,

a place for their: family, cooking, dancing, singing, crying, traditions,
love

When you ask them how we should treat the earth,
the one place that we all have in common,
no matter how different we appear, the origin story that we all share,

at least to the degree of space and, in this moment, time

they come back with answers that should be obvious,
answers that we would give in a perfect world,
no matter how far the current world is from our ideas of perfect,

they give the answers that we, likely, at one point, would have given
sometimes I feel like maybe the older we get,
the more opinions we pick up from other people,

like newspaper clippings that cling to our brain,

paper mâché crafts, building, and forming, and covering up,

and changing or replacing our own ability to think and feel

or to believe in anything at all other than in the worst of humanity
the more bruised our hearts become and the dirtier our hands become

the harder it is to disentangle the white noise of our parents’ opinions,

by the time we have any power to change the world
around us, the world away from us, the idea of the world at all
we are so very changed that

perhaps we shouldn’t be the ones to do it, after all

You know… I believe we, as a collective, and as individuals forming that collective, should let injustice consume us just enough for us to care, just enough to feel a sense of fucking rage. Rage gets shit done. If everyone believed in not letting injustice’s consumption take hold just a little bit, then how would we, as a people, stop injustice? If one just looked at the horrors of the world and remained indifferent, stable, calm, still; then she who does not have that luxury may never find a peace of mind where she is allowed to feel indifferent, stable, calm, still… If we, as a people, allow injustice to remain in any part of our world, then those who are the cause of that injustice will continue for generations to come. Warming temperatures, genocides, wars of choice, men threatening to be dictators of the supposed ‘greatest nation’ will all pass under the eyes of those who chose to keep a calm and stable mind; and to not allow passion nor transitory desire disturb their tranquility.

I say… Fuck finding indifference. Fuck finding peace. Rage, Rage; Guided Rage against those who are the cause of our injustice.

I believe rage is an emotion that is short lived* (by itself, it is. It can be drawn out, targeted, and controlled; and the only valid subject of drawing out, targeting, and controlling that rage is ourselves.). Injustice is everywhere, and everywhere that injustice is, can lead back to any number of sources. Regulating emotion is important. Misguided, and unguided rage leads to more injustice in our world; It could lead to change for the worse; a betterment for the wicked. There is also the question of ‘what is inside one’s control?’. I believe the answer is anything, as long as one puts their mind to it and stays determined to fight. I believe rage is an effective tool against the injustice’s of this world, without it, there becomes a sore lack of passion where it is desperately needed.

I say, Guided Rage has every potential to change the world for the better; has every potential to end the peoples external suffering; has every potential to live, to create something better than the shit we find ourselves in currently, the shit we’ve found ourselves in for all of human history. – Josie Mckenzie

If I lost my sight today, or closed my eyes,
I can feel all my worryness going away
The wind blowing, birds chirping, hurdles on the side
The track, is a place I would love to stay

Everything about it is my happy place,
From my jersey, all the way down to my shoelace
Once I hear, “runners take your mark, set go”
I think about how much more there is for me to grow

No competition, no one in the stands,
This is my race, it’s all in my hands
So the track today, has a special place in my heart,
And it’s here to stay

Don’t be a fool
And lose your cool
It’s hard to reclaim
Your claim to fame
But try as you will
And climb up that hill
Only to find
You’ve fallen behind
Some will desert you
And though it may hurt you
Find solace in the fact
It’s all just an act