Read Poem: D0DG3 TH1S, by Asanda Sigenu

i write this in a drunken state with a sober mind and clear conscious
my distaste in the lie of Political Correctness feeds me lies in my dreams as cringe at every sound through my walls
so here i sit, with nothing but utter disgust at everything around me
and yet this thought of this letter sweetens my discord with all

And so

To you, you degenerate and low life

You who feeds on her undying capacity to love and forgive
You who feed her sweet nothings and rotten somethings covered in fragrances
You are nothing but a piece of filth
You are lower than filth
Preying on her naivety, of your false exterior of goodness
You are not a people – you are lower than the worms that crawl inside rats

The mere fact that you are unable to look within and see the disgust that i see is enough proof that you are what you are, sub human
Death would be to good for you, for this life you live is more than anything hell can conceive
No devil has ever been more debased and vile than you

You look at that innocent face and see nothing but your own desires being fulfilled
Your words are a poison no one should ever be subjected to but subject them you do

Spreading this disease you call reality when in truth it is but a mere perception of what you were subjected to in your own youth
Like a rape victim who denies what has happened to them your psyche has been morphed and tormented into the very thing you hate, a predator

Why do i even bother to say this you wonder, i say what i say so that you know who it is who will hunt and stalk you
Who it is that will watch you and follow you, prey on you as you prey on sheep

For as you i was subjected to the tyranny of madness but now my eyes washed clean and for the first time i truly see
In life you will torment them, so i will torment you
In death you will find no rest for i will follow you through to the ends of time

I am no hero and no heroine
I am the vengeance of innocence, arisen from the depths of a broken heart

My word shall be the last you will hear in the morning and first you will hear in the night

I shall be the demon in your shadow reminding you for all eternity of the evil you have done

Read Poetry: Sestina: THE DANGERS OF THEY, by Steven Fortune

Now I’m cornering the refuge of a definition;
algorithms made a rat of me, I’m guilty by association.
What’s an era, what’s a generation,
when the stats are kept so tight?
Where’s attrition when the compass swindles sight?
Who appoints a winner in two claims of divine right?

Duelling definers spar for geist diviners who adjudicate degrees of right.
The spectacle uncovers risk in seeking refuge in a definition.
The impasse hammering estrangement between its weight and volume compromises sight.
Is there such a thing as affiliation, even self-association,
in this era of hermetic numbers exercising its serenely tight
monopoly of flexibility on morals of a generation?

For those who have no interest in the generation
as a spiritual fraternity, there’s a claim on what is right
in the fine print of a war’s declaration statement. Money won’t be tight
forever for the soldiers or the sympathizers. Genocide will rock the definition
that endorses all manner of association
bent on prying all the pixels out of what passes for enlightened sight.

They aspire to equivocate the trust of individual sight;
they are waging eye-candy campaigns of paring down to a clique a generation
fixing to resign itself to avatar association,
for eye contact will be declared a superfluous right
in the effort to uphold the most convenient definition.
The dissipation of a noble leader’s traits is promised by the visual dissection of the leaders; the probing slices deliberate and tight.

Division of the physical enables the enforcement of a tight
command on conditions for the social. Torn between the sight
that fuels my observations, and the canon definition
of a people’s progress, I refuse to personify a generation
selling out consensus celebrations of right
to legislators celebrating easy conformity through practical association.

Indebted to identity, and tantalized by the deals of the grand association,
the ties of binding – once an easy source of solace – now are tight
beyond my grip’s ability to pick apart the right
from wrong directions on the moral map comprised from raw sight.
Is it even relevant to who’s a member of a gypsy generation?
One no longer plotting recourse to refuge in a definition?

Ghost association I invest in graded sight
until the tight constraints of a compressed generation
suffocate a sense of right with a state definition.

03 08 19

Watch the MARCH 2019 Poetry Readings


Poetry Reading: I Wanna Fruit You, by Marcus Graham

Poetry Reading: The Spiderman, by Paul Wood

Poetry Reading: Simple Truth, by Clay Witkofsky

Poetry Reading: Wine and Dine at 9, by Michael Villalobos

Poetry Reading of: Homlo: Life is about the Light, by Bheku Khumalo

Poetry Reading of: Lucifer’s Grief, by Charbel Tadros

Poetry Reading of: Country of Long Winters, by Paul Bamberger

Read the TOP POEMS from APRIL 2019

Read Poem: Anger………….., by Janet E. Blackwood
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2019/04/01/read-poem-anger-by-janet-e-blackwood/

Read Poem: SLEEP MY FRIEND, by Kat Lehmkuhl
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2019/03/31/read-poem-sleep-my-friend-by-kat-lehmkuhl/

Read Poem: I FELL IN LOVE WITH COLORS ONCE, by Kristen Corbisiero
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2019/03/31/read-poem-i-fell-in-love-with-colors-once-by-kristen-corbisiero/

Read Poem: Inna Bflat, by Sharon M. Musgrave
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2019/03/29/read-poem-inna-bflat-by-sharon-m-musgrave/

Read Poem: LET THIS DAY, by Katarina Jovcevska
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2019/03/28/read-poem-let-this-day-by-katarina-jovcevska/

Read Poem: ASPIRATION, by K. Exum
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2019/03/28/read-poem-aspiration-by-k-exum/

Read Poem: TWO WAY, by Maria Juliet
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2019/03/28/read-poem-two-way-by-maria-juliet/

Read Poem: Life and Times of my Cigarettes Death, by Samantha Broesky
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2019/03/27/read-poem-life-and-times-of-my-cigarettes-death-by-samantha-broesky/

Read Poem: NIBBLES, by Sebastian Hales
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2019/03/27/read-poem-nibbles-by-sebastian-hales/

Read Poem: Where the Tears Go, by J Hirtle
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2019/03/26/read-poem-where-the-tears-go-by-j-hirtle/

Read Poem: Creamy Sky, by Elaine Alibrandi
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2019/03/26/read-poem-creamy-sky-by-elaine-alibrandi/

Read Poem: Before It’s Too Late, by John T Leonard
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2019/03/26/read-poem-before-its-too-late-by-john-t-leonard/

Read Poem: SEMANTICS, by Mary Lynn Archibald
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2019/03/25/read-poem-semantics-by-mary-lynn-archibald/

Read Poem: Censorship, by Sahar Ajdamsani
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2019/03/25/read-poem-censorship-by-sahar-ajdamsani/

Read Poem: DARK LOVE ODE, by Kat Lehmkuhl
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2019/03/25/read-poem-dark-love-ode-by-kat-lehmkuhl/

Read Poem: LOVE THAT LOVE, by Leah Gitome
https://festivalforpoetry.com/2019/03/24/read-poem-love-that-love-by-leah-gitome/