Category: Uncategorized

Performed by Val Cole

POEM:

We’ve broken things and smashed them,
torn them to pieces,
burned them and buried them.
Words left unspoken,
Love left unmade.
You took everything that I had,
and then you left me where I laid.

You soaked me with your love,
but then you hung me out to dry,
leaving me with nothing,
nothing but loneliness and pain inside,
when you said your goodbye,
and though you have spread your wings,
and taken flight,
we are still bound together,
by the lost things that remain.

I search in my heart,
And I search in my soul,
Where the lost things have gone,
I fear that I shall never know.

Remembering how everything,
used to glisten and gleam,
every single night I am ripped apart,
torn at the seams,
for all of these lost things,
still haunt my dreams.

I’ve climbed over mountains,
and travelled through valleys.
I’ve run through forests,
and swum across oceans.

I have dug holes,
in every lawn that I have seen,
and dove in every body of water,
whether murky or pristine.

Are they here?
Are they there?
You took everything when you left,
then dropped it everywhere,
as if you didn’t ever care,
now, I stand naked and broken,
with nothing left to bare.

The answers to the questions,
about where your love went,
I search for all over,
for every last drop that you spent.

The way you used to hold me close.
The way you melted when I touched you.
The way it felt when we became one, instead of two.
The way you said that no one could ever love me like the way you do.
The way your eyes smiled, when I lived inside them.
The way you yearned for me, to heal any problem.

These are the lost things,
that torture my soul,
and on the left side of my chest,
have left a gaping hole.

We are forever tied together,
by these lost things,
with deaf promises,
and invisible rings,
books with blank pages,
and sold-out theaters with empty stages.

Did you have to steal my heart?
Couldn’t you just have borrowed it?
No, you had to keep it for yourself,
please tell me where you left it.

Memories and phantom sensations,
hangovers from romantic intoxications.
These things used to be in a present state,
they used to be real.
Inside my body and my whole heart,
in a drunken stupor,
is where I lived.

But everything is gone now.
How could we have ever ended up this way?
Never could I have imagined,
that my love for you,
would over welcome its stay.
I kneel down to the ground,
and I wish, and I pray,
that my love for you,
might be welcomed back someday.

Until that day comes,
where you and I can find each other once more,
floating around in the infiniteness of space,
and in the womb of time,
these lost things shall remain.

Performerd by Val Cole

POEM:

heeler
It cowers in the corner,
newly born.
I turn my spite-soaked back,
riddled with resentment
and pull the thin veil
to sink beneath its cover.
I will not watch it crawl,
but it breathes,
a shadow
at the edge of my own
threatening to merge.
It waits, as I do
for nothing
while I ignore its cries
and mine.
And I turn to stone
silently refusing
the darkness at my feet.
~
It screams
a piercing shrill
that grips my core.
It pokes and presses
every bruise,
clawing at my skin
with high-pitched scratches.
Enraged, I seize it.
A thunderous wrath
echoes within,
bubbling in the chambers
of my worn-out heart.
Relentless waves
crash with intent
to swallow
as a storm unleashes
its fury.
~
Fear consumes,
as the burning truth
nears the brink.
Boiling rage
simmers
to a helpless
desperation.
I plead for reprieve,
a momentary pause
in overwhelming pain.
Offering promises,
a compromise…
myself.
I wait
tossing pennies
into an overflowing well,
and watch
as my wishes spill.
~
Rain cascades
from hollow black eyes,
as its touch
pierces my chest.
And at last
the dam
breaks…
flooding the space
with the pent-up poison
that’s been swelling within.
I trade my veil
for a heavy blanket
of fog
as hope is smothered.
Color dulls to gray,
and I surrender
to the haze.
~
It holds me
in its evolving arms,
and strokes my dampened hair,
whispering comfort
as if to apologize
for its very existence.
It is mine,
born of a final breath
to dwell in my shadow,
and thrive inside a void.
I tend to it
as it tends to me,
embracing what remains,
just a fragment
of that final breath
to hold in my lungs.
And I succumb
as it rises
from the isolated corner
to walk beside me,
fully grown.

Performed by Val Cole

POEM:

In the far and remote village of the west of Canton Province,
When my mother conceived me,
I curled up inside her tummy,
My mother bulged outside.

After I was born, crying,
I often slept in a cradle bearing a mosquito net.
My mother sang baby songs ceaselessly, squatting down outside.

When my mother carried me to transplant the rice seedlings,
Clout the ripe paddies and lay the grain to dry on the ground,
I lay down inside the carrying-belt on her back,
While my mother was busy outside.

When I grew up, during my childhood,
I sometimes wandered, playing with my little friends on the mountains,
While my mother constantly missed me at home.

When I went to study at Changling Primary School,
I sat in the classroom to listen to the lessons.
My mother, who let me grow then,
Often watched me from outside.

Afterwards I went alone faraway to study separating from my mother.
Then I stepped into society.
I always struggled outside.
But my mother, who still ploughed in the fields,
Always kept waiting for me at the village.

I’d always been longing to purchase an apartment in Shenzhen,
In which we could live together.

There was, however, one day before my wish would be fulfilled,
It was this day when
the relationship between my mother and me changed forever.
It was this day when
My 84-year-old mother suddenly passed away.
So from then on, my mother would lie forever inside the tomb.
At that time under the heavens the crow was crying,
The leaves were falling, and the incense and paper were burning.
We, who were grovelling with red and swollen eyes,
Tremblingly knelt down by the tomb, outside…

【Poet Bio.】Huang Guosheng was born in Nawu Town, Maoming, Guangdong, China in 1969. He won the Liangbin Fiction Prize and took 4th place in a national novel contest in China, as well as 10th place in national English writing competition in 2000. His novel Shenzhen Dream was longlisted for the 9th Maodun Literary Prize. His original English works had appeared in China’s Shenzhen Daily and American magazines Brilliant Flash Fiction and Wisconsin Review. He was the first and only author in China to be nominated by Malaysia for the Dublin Literary Award 2019. He works as an international businessman in Shenzhen, China.

Performed by Val Cole

Poem:

Where other countries went from laughing at us, to serious concern
Wondering how many bridges we’ve got left to burn
For the sake of ONE religion and ONE book
but hey, weren’t prayers good enough for Sandy hook?

I live in America
The land of the free
Unless you’re different
Unless you’re someone like me

There’s plenty like me
Several go undetected
Because America doesn’t like different
It’s too “unexpected”

I live in America
if you’re black or POC
you have to work 10 times harder
Just to be seen
Assuming you aren’t killed
Just because you were seen

Being seen doesn’t mean you’re understood
I wish it did,
I wish to hell it would

I live in America
Where gay people are killed
By straight white men
Who get off on the thrill

They use the “panic defense” and are acquitted
Not a surprise, it’s almost predicted

“It’s a sin, god said so”
Clinging to a book written thirty five hundred years ago

I live in America
Where children are starving
And then they start carving
Marks on their arms

They are abused and neglected
Lost and unprotected
But in the end blamed for their outcome.

Veterans are dying
And we put up a flag
To show we are trying!
Yeah that’s not so bad!
We can post about them on Veterans Day
And pretend like their deaths were a Heavenly way

When in reality
The country they fought for has let them down
Made them jump through hoops
And they didn’t know how
So in the end they suffer, and it’s all so sad
But it’s god will, you can’t get mad!
It’s not like agent orange was on purpose!
Oh, but thank you for your service.

It could be better
It could be worse
I’m just telling you how it is now
Before I too, end up in a hearse.

If I died tomorrow I couldn’t afford it
But hey I’m poor, so naturally I’m unfit
Slap up a gofundme, send some prayers
Tell my husband & my kids how much you care

I live in America.

Will I wake up one day and regret sending my kids to school ?
Will I be the next mother sobbing on the news?

I live in America
Where protests make you targets
Like the ones protesting to begin with
Haven’t had enough hardships

Where if you don’t have enough money,
Every regret
lives in debt

You can break your back and do as you should
Play yourself thinking it matters, I wish it would.

I live in America
The land of the free
I’m just wondering
What the HELL happened to diversity?

I live in America
Where you’re punished, not rehabilitated
Where human rights are outdated
And human lives are debilitated
Where they tell me if my child is raped
It’s a child she has to bare, it was no mistake

I live in America
Where health care is inaccessible to those who need it most
Meanwhile our legislators
Are cheersing & making toasts

I live in America
The land of the free
The place I was born
Where it’s not safe be me

Performed by Val Cole

The elections drama is thick in the air,
The candidates are battling it out,
with a war of words against each other.
America, the greatest amongst all they say.
Yet, they cannot get their affairs together.
Why lecture another country about their political affairs, when they have a felon running
for office?
Why interfere in others elections when no one can stick their nose into yours?
Election, the race is on, it’ll be interesting to see who’ll take up the oval office soon.

Voice over by Val Cole

READ POEM:

The most passionate kiss
that I ever saw
–and the longest!–
happened at the wedding
when Leonard O’Neal took a wife.
The bride’s Swedish father,
stern and adamantly opposed
to the whole affair,
though provoked,
was restrained by awe
at what he saw.

The lady was man-handled
like a whore bought for the purpose,
and she was putting out
for all that she was worth.
And but for the altar
before which they dallied
and the solemnity of erotic worship,
the wedding guests all felt
like begging the groom
to get him a room!
The horny groom
prolonged the matter
until his bride and he
were happily sizzling.
I’ve not seen the like
before or since.

I was party to the like
late the night before
Leonard O’Neal
was wed. Longer.
More intense.
Leonard O’Neal
left his party
to speak to me in private.

The unexpected kiss
he kissed me with
was a desperate affair–
hot, possessive,
totally giving,
sincere and sweet.
To be shocked and overwhelmed
and overcome by a kiss,
once and only once;
to love and be loved,
to know it in a kiss,
is as good as it gets.
I remember no kiss,
no moon, no night
as full or deep
or tender as
the kiss I got
from Leonard O’Neal
on his wedding eve.

Voice over by Val Cole

READ POEM:

Out of its cooler,
a bottle sweats embarrassed
before the hot sun.

Voice over by Val Cole

READ POEM:

The morbid star
That rises high above
Awakens me from internal slumber

I am a night serpent
Becoming one with the shadows
Who lurk on lonely windowpanes

My mind is an asylum
It was cursed the day
The dead walked among the fire

Ashes to ashes
Ashes to ashes

The air hangs low because of
The stench of burnt skin
My ears bleed red

I am a damned soul that is
Nothing more than a charred
Voiceless black hole

My heart is a dead chamber
Veins thick with tar
I leave a trail of dust when I march

I hunt in nocturnal light
Extracting the life out of
bone and flesh

I only exist to touch
The interior
Of your remains

I want to feel your last breath
In my everlasting grasp
Feel it drain from your pores

Watching your eyes become
Vacant canyons
This is what I breathe for

As death takes over your body
I want to be the last image
You will ever see

Voice over by Val cole

READ POEM:

My mom likes to say she gave me her tongue—
not the muscle
but the ability to move worlds with it.
She anointed me with her fury,
her impatience,
the power to gaze within your opponent
and pluck their greatest insecurity
from their chest.
She birthed me in her image,
a reflection she must avoid
lest she take the blame for my fire.
Something to claim if I use my power for good,
singing “That’s my daughter!”
to her friends when I win tournaments
in debate because all I seem to do is
refute, refute, refute.
But when I cut her with words
woven from her womb,
I am her greatest error.

My mom gifted me her tongue—
no, not as a gift,
but as an attempt to cleanse
herself, to pass illness
from host to donor, parent to child.
It didn’t work,
and I am the proof—
the fights we detonate with our words,
two soldiers dueling for the last breath.
I’ll come to her room after we argue,
the poison still on my lips.
We say “sorry,” “forgive me,”
but there’s no peace
between women like us.

When they ask which parent I mirror,
I claim my father’s face.
But in my disposition, I am my mother’s daughter;
the venom she could never purge,
the anger she never could swallow,
the echo of all her pain.
Everything she tries to bury,
I resurrect. Everything she despises,
I become. I am my mother’s daughter,
all her rage, all her upset,
and it hurts like hell

Narrated by Val Cole

READ POEM:

We drove for two hours
to the badlands of Cleveland
searching the streets and the alleys
just to find our way
to find a safe way
into The House of Wills.

We were met with armed guards
all meant to protect us
milling the grounds and
defending the building and
they dissuaded the worst that would come
from attacking the models
as we all collected in the lot at
The House of Wills.

It was cold and broken and
old and hurting but
its energy glowed in warm light
I felt no fear and
no apprehension, just wonder
for all I would find,
deep within
The House of Wills.
It didn’t take long
for those inside there
to make their intentions known
they only did so for so few among us
and I was welcomed as one of their own
I was gifted with offerings
so simple and humble
and embraced by
The House of Wills

Respect was my mantra
respect was my prayer and
I treated their home as my own
what once looked broken and
what once looked abandoned
lifted to life on its own
something so simple as
the flicking of ashes
out the window instead of the floor
endeared my spirit to
The House of Wills and
it called me as one of its own.

Deep down in the morgue or
up in Mr. Wills’ bedroom,
the Doll Room, the balcony and stairs
all seemed so different but
not one bit unnerving and I
roamed the halls as a welcomed guest
of those that still live there and
those that still love there
me so far removed from
all of the rest.

But back to the Doll Room
again and again
in there I felt a warmth and a draw
so back to the Doll Room and
within its power
I felt all the family and
I felt all its pain and
I offered a solemn acceptance and prayer
and for all of my wishes and
all of my gestures
I was given a gift of my own.

One of my many blessings from
The Ghosts of
The House of Wills.

When it came time to leave
I was almost saddened
still I walked away better than most
I collected my gifts and
I left my own offering in a
gesture of thanks and respect
a sadness for leaving and a
wonder receiving all that
changed hands that day and
my heart was now full and
my spirit was easing
as I waved to all my new friends.

Some came to visit and
stayed for some time and
they came to me
inside of my dreams
we talked and we smoked
and sat down at tables
playing cards and discussing this life.

All of it wisdom and
none of it nightmare and
all of it welcoming love
I was accepted and
I was supported
as wonders were drawn and exposed
those wonders and questions
that keep us all guessing and
push all the blood to the flow
but here they all were now and
here they were offered
on the table on top
of the cards.

I dreamt that I bought it
and now it was mine this
wonderful beautiful place
I dreamt that I owned it and
made it my home and
I returned to
The House of Wills.

I chased out the vagrants
with the help of old friends and
transients rushed down my halls
scared to bejesus and
scared of unknowns and
they ran out until there were none
all of them gone but
all of us still there
settling into our new home.

We were now all together
in dreams and in Dolls
in balconies, altars and pews
we now lived together
complete and content
embraced by
The House of Wills.