Author: poetryfest

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

Special Reconnaissance,
Warfare. 40-Feet
Towards the Tree-Line,
Bottle Rockets — On
Their Positions.
Secure the Spigot,
Ex-Patriate the
Remaining Troops.
Political Coup,
Buckets of Shampoo.
Assemble the Water
Witches. Witness
Total-Devastation,
Tapping Lines of
Communication,
Issue a Warning.
Thwarting Enemy
Expectations of Us
Conforming. Supplies
Frozen by Morning,
Victory is
Guaranteed.

I’m getting kinda pretty so I guess I’m alright,
Putting pieces back together till I’m glad I’m alive,
But I feel so much better with a flick of my knife,
Or a kiss of your lips, but you aren’t here tonight.

That time you caught me crying, and I lied to you,
It wasn’t my mistrust, it’s just, even I’m confused.
I’m meant to be a lime boy, beaten and bruised.
sure squeeze me to death, I’ll season your soup.

When your mother called me Berry,
It made no sense to you,
She said I could wear cherry,
but I’d still be dark blue.

I’ll put them pieces back together, hope I’m alright,
I’m taking better care, than I did before,
I even went as far as throwing away my knife,
I’m still a sour, lime-like boy, beaten and sore.

One step, deep breath
One line, take your time
Pen across paper and made for later
Uses for muses of life in nights
I wasnt a poet but i know it
I’m a monster on the roster
A bone with no home
Like a frog on a log with the bog down beat of a neat little poet
Did you know it?
I’m a poet yet i dont know it
I’m made with clay and sent away
Got i wish you would’ve stayed away
Made and frayed but never sent away
Go away leave me be to die in misery
I’m a monster that never prospers
A sinner with no winners
And yet i spread my wings like a mean three-
Think about it, around it
Through it and strew it
Away
Astray
But hey
At least I’ll see another day.