Category: Uncategorized

Performed by Val Cole

A Haiku Collection, by Jiel Narvekar

1. Heart Shaped Box

Once handled with care.
For contents were prized treasures.
Silly me, I laugh.

2. Childhood’s end

Childhood’s end looms near.
Not quite adults nor children.
On the cusp, waiting.

3. Postcard

Eagerly await
The arrival of the mail.
I know you are fine.

Voice Over: Val Cole

Artists Can’t Die, by John Ganshaw

It is raining now as it was then
The pitter-patter on the roof
Will it never end
Today is a rebirth of the man he is
To leave the past, let a new life begin

All had planned so much for this day
When a devil wished for him to fail and go away
He couldn’t be destroyed by the demons within
This was his chance to prove at last
He alone could bury the past

Satan’s darkness connived for him to be defeated
To destroy his dream and the world he created
The battles he won but the war still lingers
He fought to survive and not succumb to suicide
The time had finally come for him to rise

An easy life was never his to choose but
The devil made sure he was raped and abused
To see him addicted to drugs and booze
He was a warrior to fight what Hades unleashed
To escape from that hell and finally be free

He hadn’t created a collection for over a year
He spent his time wallowing in meth and beer
Given uppers and downers to control his moods
Gossip and rumors were spread about the town
The devil wanted him dead and gone

Deep down he had the confidence to succeed
No need for drugs that a rapist would provide
To believe in himself and refute all the lies
He had proven his strength more than a thousand times
He walked away from the abuse and his will to die

The creativity that lives just behind his eyes
A ninja with a sketchbook and endless drive
Cutting and draping to see a mannequin come alive
A master chef in his own right, the workroom his kitchen
His utensils are scissors, pins, and a utility knife

And on this day the bells of freedom will ring
Guests applaud and then they cheer and sing
A star whose flame was burning out
Was reignited when the rain ceased
and the sun came about
And in the end, all will see
The success this brilliant designer will achieve

Voice Over: Val Cole

God of Water, by Patricia Adelizzi

Somewhere west of Tucson
A paint-peeling trailer park,
Lies snugged next to Interstate 10,
Its structures resting flush
On a flatiron un-green earth.

The tawny surface parched,
Curdled with tires, motorbikes,
And assorted indeterminate items
Encircling the environs of each
Lie rutted roads and driveways.

Towering above the encampment,
Akin to a cathedral spire
A gleamingly pristine, and freshly
Coated, white water tower,
So glossy it glistened and shimmered

Like it was indelibly wet.
And on its shiny face,
Announcing an allegiance
In bold blue and red letters:
Trump

Craving cachet with fancy
Italicized script, like make-believe old,
Heralding a promise of life,
As if the brand was the owner, what
Only the skies can bestow.

Voice Over: Val Cole

POEM:

I’m scared that I’m a narcissist, by Kailah Peters

But really I think I just like myself
For the first time in 25 years
And this shit is wild

Like I used to introduce myself with sadness first
And now I lead with laughter
Because I’m laughing all the time

I stand on stage and ask strangers
To find delight in my bad dates
You need rain to make a rainbow
I need to crash a bachelor party in new orleans for the plot

My grandfather is trying to decide if I’m manic or just happy
I’m trying to convince him two things can be true at the same time

Now rewind and it’s a few months into living alone,
Putting bandaids on my broken heart

I decide I’m too comfortable falling asleep next to my vibrator
So I get on the apps
But it’s too soon

In come a string of faces I can’t see
Through the sting of my tears

Then I give up and make my tinder bio my venmo
And now I’m banned from tinder
And the cycle repeats itself
This time with charged batteries

So, I switch to bumble and meet B.
He’s tall, dark and mustachioed
My daddy issues personified

And maybe I should be embarrassed
that I’m closer in age to this man’s cat than him
But the sex is so good,
I’m trying to convince my therapist this is actually healing
Like I’m learning a lot about my attachment style

It’s true and it’s stupid, we can laugh, you should laugh
But in all honesty, it gave me the space to demote romantic relationships
And focus on more important things – like literally anything else

Now I’m writing a book
Getting promoted
And going back to school

Report this ad
I’m building community
And collecting friends
Like grandparents
Collect stamps

Pan over manchester Tennessee and you’ll find me and my best friend
Stoned, twirling with the trees

I found god, and her name is the profound depth of female friendship (or barbie)

Morgan puts on coffee when I text I’m on my way
I drop off popcorn and brownie mix when Meg texts she got her period
We turn water into vodka
pull the moon down with the bounce of our ass
And still make it to an 8 am meeting dressed in slacks

I’m on my hot girl summer
Bad bitch act

I am floating in an abundance of love
Water flooding in from every direction

And yes, Ted Lasso is the only lover I talk about on stage
But it’s not because I’m oh so in love with the way he gives me drugs

It’s because I spent the better part of three years
Walking around the internet calling my ex the love of my life
Now they are my ex
And I have to keep living my life

So, I only want to do exactly what I want to do

I’m still me and some things never change
I’m still compelled to make art
Out of the paper mache of my heart
But I can’t stand to make anymore declarative statements I think I might regret

I don’t want to write a love poem, unless it’s about my friends

Yes – I want to love, but I no longer dive head first into the concrete hoping for water

I’m living fast and loving slow
Because I refuse to get swallowed looking
For acceptance and validation between someone else’s legs
And I refuse to critique the crazy ways I’ve put myself back together again

I’m scared that I’m a narcissist
But really I think I just love myself
Quirks and all
For the first time in 25 years

Performed by Val Cole

Voice Over by Val Cole

Life after Bob, by Roy Smith

I wish I had a bosom
I would not put my fishing lures there
Rather, money from a friend for dope or rent
folded like an origami chicken so it would poke and itch
not slide to my belly button
A stash for Belle Lettres, you know, notes from foreign
lovers signed in lipstick kisses

I would need cleavage like suspension bridges
holding things dry from places I’ve not yet been
I would name her, this place of nothing from nothing
more

Pilar, like Hemingway’s boat, a place of refuge
decorated in Christmas stockings, she would have
a temper, like seas trying to rid themselves of salt
and crustaceans

I would let Bob sleep here and cats purring like Bowie
when he was Ziggy stardust

This dress, Victorian, I find myself lanced in and its whalebone
corset cinched above and below hate and men

A bosom to be proud of on parade day
draped in rainbows coffins

We would drink coffee together on some tropical deck
Almost big enough for a kitten or a baby rabbit
to curl into
Something to always pet and pet and pet

Voice Over by Val Cole

That Unspeakable Thing, by Daniel Thomas Moran

When, in good time, a thoughtful person reflects,
There can be no subject to confound us like sex.
Which had one singular apparent intention,
But wound up with more than one can mention.

We begin misconstruing the endless inferences,
That day we realize the apparent differences.
Then comes lengthy lists of shall’s and shant’s,
Based on who wears the dresses, who the pants.

He has one kind of pink thing, she quite another.
So that one must become Dad, one become Mother.
The mechanics of which no decent person dares speak,
But the results of the silence are decidedly bleak.

Men in black declare what they say some god thinks,
Separating us to protect us from all our instincts.
Consequences the gods have so very carefully defined,
From stark insanity, hairy palms, and then going blind.

Then are the many diseases our best remedies defy,
AIDS and Claps and Cancers, and let’s not be shy.
In a matter of time you could be pushing up daisies.
And most concerning of all, there might even be babies.

Then more challenging sex things we learn of these days.
Called Lesbians, and Bi’s and Trannies and Gays.
There is no easy way to tell by the looks on their faces,
Some declare they put their pink things in all the wrong places.

Now determined politicians act decisively,
With statutes to dictate where each one must pee.
With justifications that seem surprising to some,
Insisting Jesus was a virgin just like his Mum.

Yet remains this truth they are forever regretting,
All that was begot came from a lot of begetting.

Voice Over: Val Cole

The Art of the Possible, by Vijay R Nathan

http://www.VijayRNathan.com

On Kehinde Wiley’s Portrait of Barack Obama

The waves of gray hair, forehead shines
over creased brows. Flowers emerge
from green tableau: from chicago,
from Hawaii, from Kenya.

The leaves wrap around the feet
ensnaring
the subject. Greenery yields
no space topiary invades
all visibility, dominant— yet not aggressive.

He sits aloof from the viewer, focused
gaze follows our movements. Listen
to the rustling leaves, telling stories. He’s tense
from holding our attention.

His hair isn’t of a young man. He’s aged.
How tension shows up in bodies.
Hands hug knees, He leans
forward. loosey crossing arms.

There’s no tie, collar left open, free
of such encumbrance.
Regal chair demarks his status, yet
its modern, casual appearance speaks
‘We, the people’.

Isolated, in unreal surroundings
he’s trapped
in Nature, now an otherworldly
space apart from his predecessors,

A brown, skinned man, in a white herd. I see
his intensity, he is seated amongst the flowers,
in his element, a natural. His nature
flowers for all to see.

If this is true, let’s explore what else is
possible. Yes, we can dare to hope, to be
seated apart from a wilderness world
that demands we stand or be eaten.

Voice over by Val Cole

The Things that ruined my prom night, by Brianna Corona

1. Pine needles sprinkled down like confetti.
2. -prom closed with reflective confetti.
3. Scattered rocks that shine [ motor oil.]
4. -black out/black liquid, everyone has different prom nights.
5. [deafening. ] Windshield vaporized.
6. -Can glass be confetti?
7. Antlers disappear into the door [ velvet versus sheet metal.]
8. -Bambi?
9. [yelling. ] Dad calls
10. -what the hell happened?
11. [stuck. ] Satin dress braided around the accelerator.
12. -what day of the week is it?
13. Blue and red stars blinking.
14. -have you been drinking?
15. no
16. [crimson. ] Shaded stains around uneven pupils.
17. -is it okay?
18. Fawn fur draped against bent angles [ metal versus nature.]
19. [static .] young adult female
20. [broken .] single vehicle accident
21. -is the deer okay? [silence .]

Voice over by Val Cole