poetryfest

I pick the burrow, by Melissa Chaconas

I pick the burrow
but there’s nothing left
to pick- brown greenish earth mud swirls around
down the
rabbit hole
– I pick anyway
and the earth bleeds… I
stop in painful shame and
I too feel the hurtful burn
of uncertainty.

I’m fine 4 a while then

I’m fire 4 A while THEN

I’m fine 4 a while then

then hours
later out of hateful habit
I take the scalpel &
look 4 something that isn’t here

I scan the walls
run my fingers over the
dried paint & mounds
of unseeable dirt

each
pile, bubble
different
but there lies a family, a unity
within the art of complexity

I want to pick at the old wounds
(at this house with no wind)
but I can’t reach them
there are far back &
my fingers are too big

I love the way, by Melissa Chaconas

I love the way the deep, dark, rooted, buried,
forgotten mahoganies
twisted
reddish-browns,
light tans,
rich chocolates
tangled

I love the way the deep, black, embedded,
forgotten wood soaks up

the forgiveness rain,

the “I miss you” rain,

the “I need this” rain,

the “I need to get out of this” rain,

the “new- beginnings” rain

the old, ancient,
moldy, “always here” wise wood
takes my place
and
s l o w l y
F U LL Y
drawing in
your understandings
and
s l o w l y
F U LL Y
drawing out
fluid
to water our seeds
to fill,
to replenish,
to purify
the magical,
complex,
vibrating,
rhythmic
core

Maine Gains— , by Melissa Chaconas

I tattoo in black
ink the word
relax
(but
w/ a
S
because
S is
nicer, softer
than X
marks the
spot)
in ancient
text on fingers like henna
I forget to go to
the star, the
extraord9inary special
Jewels
4 ways to stuff
my dolphingates full

I need thriller results
no more making friends
laugh w/my painfully empty dates

I turn your letter inside out
rip the sides down to open a passage
and pound out soft dough
words not ready to go
mountain climbing or
bake bread 4 the hungry
Will a normal Halloween past by?
(why is that sentence strange with irony?)
Why is it a competition always
Who holds MORE
Pain? Actually I am
Pretty good w/ games

let me
give you
a great introduction
to my
silent veins
I plus
focus plus
lines from chemicals ? on my
hands
will my palm reader
lose another
baby or go
dancing with me?
A special rate.

We play
music all the
time but who
listens? Do we
feel each other? Or
Do we “goofball”
feed off
each other?

I rewrite
& fold & rewrite

mailing this letter to my conscious self
to go visit my unconsciousness self on the hills of challenges
sneed snotty
sneed seeds slip special slumber shelters
(4) social services
(that) stop
(because of)
scheming
Brown jumping autumn elphant accepted
By
green growth monster that slips away

brown baby Ganesh busting w/ bountiful energies for health and home and true boundaries and luck for businesses

Will I owe my own Business?

this rabbit hole
from clark & division to Roosevelelt and opposite reverse direction
U see is if inclined filled with inspiration

this letter is made out to me
from my mother who goes wondering with pear waves and pumpkins that empress kings and make Scarborough horrors melt away with universal loving open mommy arms

don’t stop
the scarps on your knees and loose knee caps
help you grow

Darkening the sky, by Melissa Chaconas

Never a breathe

Reeking puff

Deep in rocky ricky their hum vibrates

Her mind riven by loud thunderclap

Her crimson groan and knotted hair
Round a inexorable indignant beam

sister-brother-yes
cough w/disgust
I know often remember or don’t
the long grain of sand time that spoiled
the pact by guile and either you or I
gave yourself/meself to this
wrong

my father says beauty fades what
remains is the brain or lack
there of

who will I go down with? It is
possible to join my forefathers.

dislodged inwardly
ungovernable
snapped spirit

circle technique
icicle packed echoed
banks & pools
to have stood here
earth- struggling long to stand
tweeted twirled up the other
what is left for you?
What could heed over pleading war?

Anger
I am
willingly

ready to turn & meet
the father of speech
bidding
begging
swift from heaven
flitting, flitting
unstrung by numbness,
she knew- despairing in her
finger tips- now I withdraw.

a shame river with depth flurrying

tauntin g nerve
skill footing
half-holve’s horse
swooped
tumbled both

narrowing his eyes for
wall-battering catapult

criminal blood spirit
fled into
slackened death
gloom chill

Buckling
range
spreading my hands
raged relic of anguish
don’t hurt heat the disappointed

terrible wanderings
neglect the plunder of
&
indecision
robbed responsibility

I looked at his opened mouth
teeth stained w/coffee,
sweat-smoke- his gums
but his eyes spoke
wineglass born of clay-
dissolve old masters of inexhaustible
sir-down these sit on sea love

a silent night of strength
dancing, darkness dance the dare
“maybe then she would be adorned
by real brains – not just seemingly
stupid men w/ real hands”

The Oscars, by Melissa Chaconas

Robes, masks, carpets, sculptures
Statues, like s Shakespearian
Amorous play- party – the great
Barrier is lifted- all purple
Orange coral bones drift into the
up…
the accomplished shine in light
their inner world below-is tall &
become s their now
wobbly legs

treacherous
viperfish
numberless
ones cling to
burning throats

gangway bridges
wide-snap
the drowned

into morning fields-where hurting unsleeping makes crooked eyes

HOPE, by Twinkle Saluja

Life is a never ending vicious cycle
And this is reminder from up above..

If there are toothy grins,
they are always going to be followed by wretched and griefs
If there are days bitterer than the gourd
there will also be those days sweet enough to kill you of diabetes

Every oasis will have a desert surrounding it
You just need to keep your faith alive
and the glint of good hope will always be on your way
You may not always see it
but that’s how, it’s meant to be. Always.

Insta Handle – Twinkle_saluja_

Come in; tread lightly, by Miranda Williams

Come in,
But tread lightly on my aching heart
Move slowly and let not your jarring laugh
Cause it’s brittle edges to crumble

Come in,
But tread lightly on my breaking heart
Understand that I won’t allow you to try to heal what’s left, for the pain is a strange comfort

Come in,
But tread lightly on my hurting heart
Move gently, for peace is all that it can bare in this moment

Come in,
But tread lightly on my swollen heart
It can absorb no more, but it’s deafening, irregular beat can be soothed by your presence

Come in,
But tread lightly on my fragile heart
Help me to protect it from the noise
Of a world it is not yet ready to rejoin

Come in,
Sit with me until one day
My aching, breaking, hurting heart,
Aches, breaks, hurts a little less

Come in,
Sit with me until one day,
My swollen, fragile heart
Begins to calm

Come in,
Sit with me until one day,
I may start to restore.

Miranda Williams: http://www.sailinghome.blog

Why are the Police so Mean?, by Gladys Muturi

My Fellow Officers

I got one thing to say, “Why?”

Why do you have to be so mean?

Do you hate us?

Are we that bad people?

You say you guys are good cops but yet you’re acting like the bad guys

What does your badge mean to you?

To prove you are tough in this community?

You give me respect, I give you respect

But Where is my respect?

My respect from you is yelling when I asked what I have done

Pin hard against my body to the ground

Shooting at me without a warning or a question

Blocking the airway hole where I breathe

Until I blackout,

Knocked out to unconsciousness

Darkness with no movement or sound

Why?

Why does the Police have to be so mean?

Is it their job?

Your duty to end our lives?

I’m scared for my life

Does that mean I have to run and hide?

Does my life mean anything to you?

I stand for what I believe in

I stand for my life

I stand for all black people lives

I stand for everyone to be treated equally

My hope is your protection

Protection for all black lives

Black women, Black men, and Black children

No more knees on our necks

No more bullets without a warning

No more chokeholds

No more aggression

No more

I ask for love, loyalty, and respect

Isn’t it too much to ask?

I’m afraid what my future children would say, “Mommy, Why are the police are so mean?”or “Am I safe?”

What should I say?

Yes, the police are mean?

I don’t want to believe

I want to believe in the goodness in the world

But where is that?

Your duty is your promise

Your Promise to keep us safe

Where is your promise?

We don’t hate you, my Fellow Officers

We just want justice for our people

We just want the justice system to do better

We want you to stand with us

You don’t have to like us but help us

I have one thing to say, “Why?”

Why do you have to be so mean?

“So the more privileged and comfortable someone’s life is, the harder it is for them to appreciate the needs and issues of those worse off. But as long as we don’t do something stupid like put the most pampered people in charge of running countries, we should be OK.” — Art of Quotation

“So the more privileged and comfortable someone’s life is, the harder it is for them to appreciate the needs and issues of those worse off. But as long as we don’t do something stupid like put the most pampered people in charge of running countries, we should be OK.” ― Dean Burnett, author, book quote […]

via “So the more privileged and comfortable someone’s life is, the harder it is for them to appreciate the needs and issues of those worse off. But as long as we don’t do something stupid like put the most pampered people in charge of running countries, we should be OK.” — Art of Quotation

“Dear America: You are waking up, as Germany did, to the awareness that 1/3 of your people would kill another 1/3, while 1/3 watches.” — Art of Quotation

“Dear America: You are waking up, as Germany did, to the awareness that 1/3 of your people would kill another 1/3, while 1/3 watches.” Werner Herzog, German, director

via “Dear America: You are waking up, as Germany did, to the awareness that 1/3 of your people would kill another 1/3, while 1/3 watches.” — Art of Quotation