Author: poetryfest

Here I am.
Cradled by the Jewel of the Mountains
A pilgrimage two thousand three hundred miles to bow before HER.
It took months of preparation, organization, and sheer willpower.
The Great Divine Mother Mountain nourishes my heart and soul.
She has carried me through my greatest transformations
After my surgery, she gave me strength; she put my pieces back together
She gave me life and made me whole.
And now I come again in my new adventure
stretched out, surrendering myself before her
She helps me release that which is not mine but is not real.
I witness the false matrix shed away.
She reminds me of who I am. My higher calling, my soul, awakens.
You see, no illusions can live upon her.
Those who could not handle her power left mad or killed themselves
But not me. I run to Her Crystalline energy.
Eager to wash every part of my being as I stand naked before her.
Humbled and Grateful, a Heart full of Devotion
I am ready to serve.

A lone corvid picks perch on a branch of steel.
His feathers a canvas for the rainbow,
Blackened by ash.
To his left, the shell of a mall echoes absolute silence.
To his right, the undisturbed corpse of a parking lot.

The bird sits, silhouetted by the sun,
And casts shadow to the stone desert below.
It stretches for miles, as vast as the sky itself,
Spreading thin the gaze of its onlooker
Still studying from his perch.

With beady eyes and coal-smeared beak, he stares
At the pronged light posts clawing at the sky,
The fingers of grass that web across the lot,
The empty spaces between white lines, and coughs.
The crow’s voice, the dropping of a pin.

The crow will sit until the sun is spent, its rays
Ever dimming in the evening shadow.
Beneath his claws, a spark ignites.
The light hanging from his perch sputters,
Fades into a subtle glow,
And pops.

Shards of glass burst forth from their confines,
Reflecting briefly the scene they observe;
The dead mall looming in the dark,
The fields of cold, callus stone below
And the lone corvid’s ashen feathers
Vanishing into the night.

Performed by Val Cole

“A riddle of Breakable things”, by Janine Parkinson
A love like ours starts out
with one cup of sugar
a teaspoon of thyme

Add a fight,
some words unkind
we sit broken, cracked, poached

Resting in silence, stirring
your pointed finger, stabs
Oozes yellow

The sunset
replaced with slapping wind
of the right

Carry me quietly,
My love.

Out to sea
deep in this shallow
I stir in your leash

You led me
Tie my boat
to your golden shore

Dull my sweetness
with stale milk and cumin
Set the clock forward

Forget you
Forget us

Forget Humpty Dumpty
and the stampede of all your King’s Men

Performed by Val Cole

COFFEE by Paul Wood

On no what a palaver

What an awful din

The barista is going crazy

As the customers all pile in

Mums with small children

Spotty teenagers with attitude

All sorts from all walks of life

Are waiting in the que

I shuffle slowly along the counter

in company with all the rest

Until it’s my turn to face the question

I am here to fulfil my quest

The peaky barista glowing red

With hot coffee sweats

Looks at me with wide eyed judgement

And asks loudly “who’s next”

“I will have a coffee please ” as I look at him

And thanking him in advance

“What one do you want Sir the list is rather vast”

On no my minds a jumble

My tongue is rather tied

I seem to be completely dumbfounded

As I am stopped in my stride

“What ones have you got?” I ask

“I have never been here before

People turn and look at me

As I shrink into the floor.

The barista truly speechless

The stress is rising up

He takes a deep breath his eyebrows frown

As he grabs the next coffee cup

“There are lots to choose from,

I know them off by heart,

If you have a few minutes

from the list I will begin to start”

The shop fell silent

A pin you could have heard

As people all stopped motionless

To hear the list that he had learned

Through gritted teeth and stale coffee breath

“Well sir as you see this is a coffee shop”

“We only sell lovely coffee here”

“I will read it from the top”

“Espresso that’s number one there,

you must have heard of that,

what about the next one down,

, we call it a long black”

“There’s a Macchiato,

now that is the third one down,

you can have it short or long,

and is especially nice while in your dressing gown”

“Number 4 there is a mocha,

I am a really big fan of that,

what about an Americano,

You can have it with milk, but I prefer mine strong and black”

Standing there I ummed and aaarrd

As I listened hard to the offerings that he had

I was now really, really, really confused

I was feeling rather bad

“I am not sure” I said ” What else have you got?”

As I gave a nervous grin

There were tuts and gasps from the watching crowd

As the barista gently breathed in.

looking at his biblical list he slowly points

His face all spotty and a glo

“I am sure you know” comes his sweaty reply

“It’s the nations favourite Mr cappuccino”

“Next we have a flat white,

and an affogato,

we have a cheeky piccolo latte there,

and a sexy Ristretto”

“I don’t know” I said “I am really confused,

all I wanted was a hot drink,

all skinny Latte this and fat Mocha that,

I didn’t want to cause a stink”

The barista slowly bows his head

His hands pulling at his hair

“It’s there Sir,…..just choose one,

any one please, just choose one, I really don’t care”

I surveyed his list and tried to remember the choice

All the names blurred into one

Quickly my mind was telling me

Your beginning to annoy everyone…

“I will have” as I slowly looked around

The customers statuesque with baited breath

The clock on the wall minutes slowly ticking by

The que behind me gripped in anticipation for my choice to be said

My mind had made the decision

Its now on the tip of my tongue

a round of applause had slowly erupted

like a slow hand clap from a cricket pavilion

“Well out with it “the overheating barista said

“Finally, thank the lord”, his voice was all a glee

“What I want,. “YES!” … what I really want” … “YES YES. FOR GOD SAKE WHAT!!!!!!!”

.. “Is just a lovely cup of tea “

Performed by Val Cole

There you are
knocking on my
throat..
“Saint death”

in the sky
looking
down
on
me..

It’s your Birthday
btw
he humbled

no cake for
you today
just memorize
those good times
while
in your skin

Saint death in the sky
death
sucking on
a life saver…
waiting..

from behind..
A whisper..a warning..

Setting up stakes
for some radiation
Invasion..

Oh stranger than I..
Pass this way..my door

Waiting on that
Shadow…
Backing out..

Just long enough..
For one more
Fuck…fuck up

“Saint death”

in the sky
looking
down
on
me.

It’s your Birthday
btw
he humbled

no cake for
you today
just memorize
those good times
while
in your skin

Saint death in the sky
death
sucking on
a life saver…
waiting..
“Saint death”

in the sky
looking
down
on
me.

It’s your Birthday
btw
he humbled

no cake for
you today
just memorize
those good times
while
in your skin

Saint death in the sky
death
sucking on
a life saver…
waiting..

The supposition of flesh
Leads inward toward the self
Where body holds no familiarity
Shape gathers movement
Scratching at the salt
To reveal a meaning
Written a long time ago
On the air
On the backs of…
Behind tooth and claw
Where I first met my forms
Shifting again and again
Each evolution declares my structure
As winds circulate the winged circles
Of each existential recollection
Once again I find a body
No longer speaking specific dialects
Stretched and pulled
I begin another circle as animal
Born from earth and breath
Death is at once alive
A neoteric vision to discover the way
As I once observed the ancient play
The perception of space and time
Where infinity embraced obscurity and the arcane smile
Matter and mountain and momentum
Knowing while not knowing
Forgetting while not forgetting
Each tongue collecting dust
Waiting for the apropos silence
Each eye alert while the other is shut
Dreaming of being awake
Somewhere aware
Reaching closer to the acts of the amaranthine Mother.

I awoke this morning with a vision
The human race at a coffee shop
Sipping lattes while existence
Slowly, slowly stopped

Bombs in the distance
Melted ice caps at our feet
The sun eating through our clothes and skins
A species in defeat

The victims of our own stupidity
Munching bagel bites with placidity
Filled with cream and a final humility
Ending not with a bang
But with caffeine liquidity

I awoke, with a sigh not a scream
Seeing it was still just a dream
Knowing it will soon be reality
Unless we choose love, not finality

When you can hear the train,
It´s going to rain.