Author: poetryfest

The creamy slate of our soul lingers
On callous perforated sex crimes
While outside, gods war with sky
To end all beginnings anew.

Peace is a lie in this place
Swirling marvels of cold black nuances
Where are the angels now?

Feel the ugly
The obsidian face
Bearing down on us
Heavy subsidence
Slow weight making heavy our minds
Making heavy our hearts with fat hate.

A ripening fruit to be picked
Then bitten.

Juices flowing between
Tongues and teeth
Tongues and teeth
Tongues and teeth.

Antonyms of frictions
Both delicate and hard
Tearing flesh wide for the tasting
While licking our own wounds.

A subtle paradox
Like and death dancing in the reflection of our lives.

Author – Travis Lemke

I once was a…
Felt like a…
Thought like a…
Did like a…
Talked like…
…someone
Am I still me?

Memories fading,
Buildings fall,
People change,
I see it all.
But why?

I yearn for more…
I feel it.
I hear it.
I see it.
Just through the door.

What are we?
We’ll never know.
A movie without an ending.
A prayer without meaning.
To live…
To dust…
No more.

They think I am.
I think I am.
I know I am.
We think we are.
I know we are.
Who am I?

I shall be,
Can be,
Will be,
Must be,
Or maybe…
I’ll just be.

A thought…
A feeling…
A memory…
A dream.
Flowing down a running stream.

It was.
It is.
It will be.
It shall be.
It must be.
It can’t be.
Fleeting…
Fading…
Faltering…
Rest.

I woke up this morning and opened my eyes.

There was light.

Goodnight.

WHY WAIT FOR SPRING?
LOVE IS CALLING NOW.
WHY WAIT FOR SPRING?

WHY WAIT FOR SPRING?
ROMANCE ISN’T FOUND
ONLY IN SPRING.

LOVE SINGS OF ROMANCE IN NOVEMBER.
ON WHISPERED WIND IT CALLS YOUR NAME.
YOUR NAME, WHEN SUNG ON THE AUTUMN BREEZE,
TURNS AUTUMN TREES TO FLAME.

WHY WAIT FOR SPRING?
LOOK AT ALL THE JOY NOVEMBER CAN BRING.
SPRING MAY BE LATE.
WHY SHOULD YOU WAIT FOR SPRING?

I’LL BRING YOU TULIPS IN DECEMBER.
I’LL COAX THEM THROUGH THE SNOW FOR YOU.
FOR YOU, I’M MORE THAN JUST A MORTAL MAN.
I KNOW I CAN COME THROUGH.
I AM ROMANCE.
GIVE ME THE CHANCE,
AND I’LL BRING THE SPRING TO YOU.

FORGET THE HEARTACHES YOU REMEMBER.
I’LL FIND A WAY TO MAKE THEM GO.
IF YOU TRUST IN ME,
I CAN MAKE IT SO.
SO, DON’T WAIT FOR SPRING.
THERE’S NO NEED TO BE ALONE ANYMORE.
DON’T WAIT FOR SPRING.
WHY WAIT FOR SRING
TO FIND OUT WHAT LIFE IS FOR?

The day I stop giving a fuck
Is the day the fuckers win. Even if
All around me are losing their fucks
And blaming the same fucking thing.

These fucking times we live in
Are the only times we possess
And how history’s proved,
When our fucks are removed,
We end up in the same fucking mess.

You may feel disenfranchised,
A screw in a fucking machine,
But a fuckload of us all giving a fuck
Can at least make the fucker run clean.

Don’t blame generations above you,
Claim their aim is to fucking forsake us,
Mankind survives on fucks supplied
By those who fucked to make us.

But beware the fucks in sheep’s clothing
Who declare only they give a fuck
But who don’t give a fuck about reading the notes
While they’re tearing the rulebooks up.

If you think your fucks don’t make a difference,
That the system remains just the same,
Then some fucker wins through who will fuck over you,
Then you lose your right to complain.

Stop passing the buck,
Let’s pass on our fucks,
Let the age of fuck-giving begin.
The day we stop giving a fuck
Is the day the fuckers win.

A shadow of a man I used to be
A bag of bones brittle and broken you can see
A stray dog would not even nibble upon me

I made it here by the grace of God
It’s the only reason that makes sense to me
The places I used to dwell; Hell bound indeed

Pitiful sorrow drowning in drugs
Swimming in disease if you please
My friends all demons wanting the worst for me
Got their wishes fulfilled you see

A beacon of light through the fog I see
An illusion or lie or could it actually be
A hand of help reaching out just for me

Nothing to lose its all been lost
but this hand I grab and it grabs me
The grip unbreakable as it drags me upon
a raft of hope to a path of light
to save my soul to Serenity Lane

In Kyoto, the hawks circle over Gion
Seeking no prey above the traveled streets
Where the crow unheeded passes cherry trees by.

The steps of Kodai-ji are emptied now,
And clouds close in on Higashiyama’s crests –
In Kyoto, the hawks circle over Gion.

Night rain heavy air drags at the cherry blooms
Flowing down the mountain side to the gate
Where the crow unheeded passes cherry trees by.

Heavy as headstones the stain-shot sky hangs
Over the fir-lined stone block steps up the hill –
In Kyoto, the hawks circle over Gion.

A breeze – squeaking the wet tree tops, waving
The black-ribbed cherry trees, grazes the roofs
Where the crow unheeded passes cherry trees by.

Now down the steps on sandaled feet, seeming
Asleep, a monk comes who does not see how
In Kyoto, the hawks circle over Gion
Where the crow unheeded passes cherry trees by.

HANGMAN, HANGMAN, HANG IN LOOSE
I GOT NOOSE FOR YOU
I’M NOT GONNA DIE TODAY
SO, NOW WHATCHA GONNA DO?
AND HE GRABBED MY LEGS
HE STABBED MY CHEST
HE TRIED TO KILL ME
WITH A BOY SCOUT KNIFE
BUT WHEN I SHOUTED AKELA
HIS FACE GREW PALER
HE TRIED TO TAKE HIS OWN LIFE, I SAID
HANGMAN, HANGMAN, HANG IN LOOSE
I GOT NOOSE FOR YOU
YOU’RE NOT GONNA DIE TODAY
SO, NOW WHATCHA GONNA DO? HE SAID
WELL, SOMEONE’S GOT TO DIE
SOMEONE’S GOT TO DIE
THE CROWD ARE GETTING RESTLESS
THEY’RE HERE TO HEAR A DEATH WISH
SO, IT’S YOU OR I
AN EYE FOR AN EYE
BUT SOMEONE’S GOT TO DIE
I SAID, WHAT DID I DO?
HE SAID, BOY, YOU KILLED
I SAID, SO DO YOU
HE SAID, BOY, I’M SKILLED. I SAID
HANGMAN, HANGMAN, HANG IN LOOSE
I GOT NOOSE FOR YOU
GOD HAS TOLD ME I’M INNOCENT
SO, NOW WHATCHA GONNA DO?
AND HE CALLED FOR GOD
AND GOD HE CAME
AND AS HE DID
IT STARTED TO RAIN
AND THE CROWD DISPERSED
THEY WENT TWO BY TWO
AND GOD CAME DOWN, AND SAID
HERE’S WHAT WE’LL DO, HE SAID
HANGMAN, HANGMAN, HANG IN LOOSE
I GOT NOOSE FOR YOU
THE REST OF THE WORLD’S ON NOAH’S ARK
SO, NOW WHATCHA GONNA DO?
AND I SAID, WHAT ABOUT ME?
HE SAID, YOU’RE MY SON
I SAID, YOU REALLY MEAN I’M THE CHOSEN ONE?
HE SAID, YES, YOU ARE, SO GET INSIDE
COS TOMORROW MORNING
YOU’LL BE CRUCIFIED
WELL, SOMEONE’S GOT TO DIE
SOMEONE’S GOT TO DIE
THE CROWD ARE GETTING RESTLESS
THEY’RE HERE TO HEAR A DEATH WISH
SO, IT’S YOU OR I
AN EYE FOR AN EYE, BUT
SOMEONE HAS GOT TO DIE.

I etch it in parchment,
now I can calque it in cement
– I meant it, though parched,
since I chanced upon
you – you are
panacean penchant
for me. Me, in
chanting phase,
change of pace.
You enchant apace.
For once,
benevolence bends valence,
hence
be set-in.
Besetting bed-wetting
of a love still young,
or above, still, yang.

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For some it starts
with fashion.
Pegged pants, t-shirts, facial hair.
Or the lack of it.
Then music.
Jazz, rock, hip-hop.
Then the hair.
Then the clothes.
Then the music.
Fast cars, big cars,
small cars. Electric cars.
One day you’re on
the cutting edge,
dancing nights away
fueled on drugs
and alcohol, the next
you hear for the first time
the name of the most
popular singer in the world.
Wonder where you’ve been.
Then realize even your children
have aged out of contests
open to beginners aged 18 to 35.
You are part of the past
captured in photographs
of women with beehives,
soldiers in field ops,
crowded streets where
no one is masked,
and obituaries of icons
in every category
and class who have
been there with you
from day one.
Like impeachment,
it’s a process where
you might never hold
public office again.

Genres: Dark, Death, Funny, Hurt, Love, Relationships, Romantic, Sad, Rhyme

I have been struck by lightning, twice,
once in the neck, once in the Trossachs.
I crawled out of a crash with whiplash
and made a bleeding, limping dash
across the border. Armed guards fired.
I’ve stowed away on boats and planes
and jumped from high-speed, foreign trains.

You keep the curtains closed all day
and never come out before dark.
It’s a wonder we ever met.
I found you wandering the streets
like Aphrodite in a nightie.

I’ve been in fights, been read my rights.
I changed my surname by deed poll
and still got chased by Interpol.
I’ve phoned from every call box,
mailed cards from every post box,
just to tell you, ‘I’m on my way
and getting closer every day.’

When I crawl up your garden path,
your mum tells me to go away.
I can’t go on, I can’t go back.
When you wake in the morning
you will find me dead on your doorstep.