Author: poetryfest

Men are the mirrors
of their fathers fathers.
Bootleg versions of
New and improved versions of trash.
A new generational curse that men
Are wasted space; traditional playboys
But,
Men are trash.

Play boys without the toys just the box with no contents.
No produce.
Nothing to give
A gaping hole of wasted space and void
They are trash.

A waste of Gods breath and dust summoned from the core of
elemental disposition.

They are unfruitful words from a God
Who baptises the sun every day in its glory just so it can shine.

Men are trash.
A waste of core speech.
A waste of Gods day and perceptual time.
A waste of molecular compounds and temple
Of glory and gullible mess
But men are trash: Vipers.

The death sucking life out of fashionable brokens.
They never tell you the snake that lured Eve was male
From the genesis he was trash.
Trash
Trash
Trash

Complete and utter trash

But…
If they are trash
Then
Are our wombs the dumpster trucks God threw them in?
Are they a breeding ground for a bi product of shame?
Are our wombs are surely poisoned
And damaged?
Polluted? An inhabitable earth in the womb of our waters that births
tragedy and sorrow A 9 month Armageddon
And a lifetime of funeral

But men are trash.

Because men were always men
And boys were of course
never raised.

So
I guess we are all trash,
And our bodies are the toys we satisfy them with
The landfills that take them in
And breed these creatures.
Because of course God makes
Rubbish.

By Storm Cecile
http://www.stormcecile.com

Let it snow,
The routine needs to break.
And let the sun shine,
Because the day needs to be normal again.

You said you were worried
I wouldn’t like you
if you were truly yourself

That I wouldn’t be able
to handle you
If you really let go

But I say to you:

Unfurl yourself in me

unleash your fragrance and
spread wide your petals

as if I am the moon
and you are a nightflower

Release your billowing waves
and crash over me

Then drag part of me back with you
So I will always be soaking

Root yourself
Deep down in me
So I am the
Soil you thirst upon

For my love you have no Idea

how long
I have been
Waiting

I sit covered in the dark, overwhelmed with washed colors,
Suspended in limp between brightness and the depth of black.
Bitter and uncontrollable,
Distracted and hot,
Burned and empty
And at the same time as full as never before.
Members of the infinite heat,
Unhealed ….
Eternal, ongoing.
And this heat is trying to pour outside, get out of me
As if I was just a shell, a toy that he liked.
I don’t want to give up to him
At the same time, his presence soothes me.
He calms down, drinks pride and happiness
And promises better.
And when I stand here in the dark my body wraps the gait,
He pierces my bones, but he can’t reach it.
He is still glowing there, the rays of the scarlet.
And I am, I am standing, I am a shell.
An empty dish of the fire standing on the ice.
I am and I am not
Because he is – fire.
He consumed me and will not return his property,
The body will not be renounced,
It will not go through the air.
Has a soul only sometimes not peaceful willow, it rebels,
But what about it, since the body of a burning scarlet cannot get rid of.
And although the frightened eyes of the corpses,
coal -fired coal of a scarlet,
Before my eyes, visions are taking place,
And although human members digested in red,
So how can I stop?
This fire is ongoing and is getting harder, it explodes with heat,
Boiling blood …

I hate drinking… …makes my heart love, my soul yearn

Firey hells
of the water that burn.
An exhausting breath
forcing a will to learn.

Never again,
taking for granted,
the food I eat,
from the seeds I planted.

Barely touching the depths,
with the tips of my toes
while panting above the surface
barely living on H2O.

Waiting for death to take me,
or you to crack the ribs,
grab my heart, and make me
love you once again.

Bare naked on the floor,
wrapped in seduction,
two erections
penetrating the soul.
You’re the only one I want to know.

I Wish you weren’t so prude
Had a little sense of concern

The punctured ship will sink
Everyone to downturn

You ruined your name and you prestige
And went into discard
Profiteers will always be afraid of
losing their rotten life

You will be extra pyre
To destruction and overthrow fire
And No one will respect you in
The future without a prior

And we’ll prove you

You’ve given them strength
Your endless greed has led them be

Without your capital
They will fall to their knees

You have been with us like a real
Companioned agnate
They will no longer support you when
They see seats are stagnate

You will be extra pyre
To destruction and overthrow fire
And No one will respect you in
The future without a prior
Time will prove you
You’re providing them

Life is like ocean

Life is like an ocean and the waves inside are like the days

Days of our lives

They come and go

Gone forever

Never coming back

Each wave carries its own good and bad

Just like each day brings its own joy and sadness

so enjoy every wave,

Wave in the ocean

And every day,

Days of your life

Because when they’re gone they never come back

Life is like an ocean

Performed by Val Cole

The Devil’s Arches

Heavy as the devil’s arches,
Weighing down on me.
A row of pretty larches,
Smiling down on me.

Down that chosen path,
The choice was never mine.
Down I meet the wrath,
Of the devil’s arches.

Heavy as the weight of tears,
Bearing down on me.
A single rose it leers,
Smiling down on me.

Down that chosen path,
The choice was never mine.
Down I meet the wrath,
In the shadow,

Performed by Val Cole

BEAUTY IS A JOY FOR EVER, by Eileen Moynihan

‘A Thing Of Beauty Is A Joy For Ever’ (John Keats)

Spring has sprung, they say…
Truly, this is a magnificent day.
Pure white magnolia opens delicately,
Tulips with green leaves push
Through the warming earth,
Strong and determined to flower soon.

This week we buried my aunt,
Beautiful colourful flowers
Marked the place, beside her daughter
Who died too young.
Her many children gathered around
Will keep special memories of her
This Mother’s Day.

Re-connections blossomed
Amongst old and young,
A coming together to celebrate
The life of a hard-working woman,
Who always had style and beauty.
It too was a glorious day.