Poetry
Ode to Flesh
I have found that the skin I am unfolding myself into is allowing for unforeseen dance moves.
A lively tango
I had yet experienced the footwork for.
And God, when I tell you
every inch,
centimeter,
and yard
of the excitement I am experiencing
grows,
melts,
and dispenses as
evidence onto my rouging cheeks
and in my womanhood.
Phrases of obscenity find its route of escape through my clenching teeth,
biting into shoulder blades for balance.
The slip of my tongue is the very notion of blissful unruliness
deepening within me.
Veins stretch,
expand,
and
collapse
into every formable crevice
the ocean waves are crashing,
I am right alongside them.
New fleshly discovery,
excavation of humility
I will admit I identify with shapeshifters
the way I’ve found my limbs curling up against and into intangible reality.
To please is to be alongside guided divinity.
Collecting milestones of tenderized feelings.
Crash.
Burn.
Release.
-Jordan Conine
Learnt Trait
I have been conditioned through pain and thorough disappointment.
And,
It is by no means seamless, but I don’t believe I am allowed
To give up.
And,
I think I was born to be vulnerable.
Or,
an example of what can be
If you decide to love.
And,
No matter how much I scrunch my face,
kick my heels into the soil,
and cry out in agony to have permission to hold the traits of being
distrusting,
numb,
And
calloused,
I find myself wholly sharing my heart with the woman picking out softened pears.
And I hope for my newest learnt trait to walk the lines of peacefulness.
Stretching thin for a break.
I don’t mind aging— I smile back when I see the noble trenches on the woman's face deepen at me while shopping.
I gleam for white haired beauties who don’t give a shit to dye it anymore.
I absolutely thrive over every growing nuanced conversation
that used to pick at my brain with death's looming scythe.
And,
I see my shoulders freckling up with time as it goes on with the sun as somewhat of a melanomic trophy.
And I prayed for you to get better, that will be your learnt trait.
-Jordan Conine
My Little Love
The brief moments of peace as I wake is the dove from above.
The sweet mourning dove blesses my ears with echoes of an owl.
The crisp fall air wisps through my window, I am elated.
Yet none of my stresses have faded,
I wish I was little again.
Before the world turned cold, I was warm.
I bask in an innocent gaze now,
all alone in a dorm made just for me.
Shouldn’t that pave my way?
No.
I still mold myself like clay each day,
I wish I was little again.
When the sun sets and the day is done,
I miss being excited to grow up.
Where people were good to one another,
trust was given with ease.
Where my heart wasn’t breaking to please,
I wish I was little again.
The world so gentle then, hidden.
Not yet seen.
A world in which I wish I could return to.
The darkness did not exist,
fear only lived within my bedroom walls at night.
Sadness still had to be understood at a certain height,
I wish I was little again.
Tears were meant for injuries,
not heartaches.
Laughs were meant for joy,
not nerves.
Love was meant for meaning,
not aesthetic.
I’m sorry to sound pessimistic,
but all I wish I was,
was little again.
-Tiarah Swann
Human Experience
A barrel.
Your contents seep through and through, and they splash onto the floor and stain my shoes. An Unmoving object,
You cannot apologize for something you did not mean to do.
I cannot blame you for something you did not mean to do.
A thing of some human’s creation
I cannot blame the man who made you,
How fair would that be? To him,
To me.
When you are not being used to age liquid deemed powerful enough
To kill a man
And inhibit his mind
And body
You are doing nothing.
Sitting. Seething.
Seeping.
You are full of ale, and when you are not then
Full of ale shall you become.
You were made for this
And maybe it has been brewing too long.
Is it ready yet?
You crack at the seams, and you do not mean to split and spill onto me and Onto the floor and when he comes,
The man that created you.
But you do it anyway
And you cannot apologize for what you did not mean to do.
It's fine.
You are replaced soon enough,
You will be forced to hold the weight of your contents no longer.
-Fox Micah
Desolate
I guess that it is
Much better to feel nothing
Than to burn in anger.
But still melt away,
From all the guilt and the grief.
Sting in your chest.
That’s until I snap.
Burning so bright, I burn out.
Venomous fire.
I know it’s better,
To die this way, fade in gray.
Disappear fully.
Finally fade away.
Fall asleep in forever.
Feel nothing again.
Raindrop hits my eye,
And only then I realize,
That I am crying.
-Jay Williams
Luciferin
Millions of twinkles.
Shining through the night.
Stars fell through the sky.
Blinking on and off.
Bioluminescent bugs.
Lightning in the night.
They all seem to dance,
A choreographed rhythm.
Mesmerizing moves.
It was such magic.
A wonderful sight that I
Was quite blessed to see.
The stars have come back.
I feel as if I’m walking
Upside down through time.
I, walking through space;
And there above me was
Twinkle lighting bugs.
-Jay Williams
222
I woke up
With needles in my bed,
And a numbness
In my head.
​
I could not feel
My face,
And I knew something
Was out of place.
​
I stared at the ceiling
As I lay there,
I felt the familiar feeling
Of despair.
-Jay Williams
Interlude
​
I watch from the corner,
The devil’s hand on my shoulder,
And I think to myself,
That it’s gotten colder.
-Jay Williams
The Sound of Tragedy
​
We never forgot the day they fell.
Standing on the lukewarm concrete, necks bent upward.
We all had important things to do.
Among the rubble,
Nothing of the sort was significant.
There were words on paper
But none in our minds.
No selection of sounds and syllables
Could possibly express how we felt.
The studio was dead silent.
All of it was completely irrelevant.
No lyrics about girls and drugs
Could possibly resonate with an audience.
Not in a time like this.
What could we do?
Our voices felt weak.
Impossible to even make a sound,
But the instruments we play
Could say millions of words
Only using A B C D E F G.
Seven letters is all it takes
To capture the pain in our hearts.
To describe the pain we felt.
To project our feelings.
Turning emotion into sound.
-Brandon Lemery
Peace
Seven years buried in this prison crypt
I forgot how it felt to be free
Never thought I’d ever take this trip
In my mind I sail the seven seas
I forgot how it felt to be free
Like a ghost my memory fades
In my mind I sail the seven seas
Try to hope and change my ways
Like a ghost my memory fades
Walking through the maze of mine
Try to hope and change my ways
Castaway I lost my sense of time
Walking through this maze of mine
At times I even dare to dream
Castaway I lost my sense of time
Life is never what it seems
At times I even dare to dream
Soaring through the skies at night
Life is never what it seems
Through the darkness shines the light
Soaring through the skies at night
Lonely soul stuck in my woes
Through the darkness shines the light
All my friends have turned to foes
Lonely soul stuck in my woes
Wonder if I’ll make it home
All my friends have turned to foes
On this path I walk alone
Wonder if I’ll make it home
Oh how great that day would be
On this path I walk alone
On that day I’ll find some peace
-Elijah Sprott
Monster Down Under
There is a Monster that dares shriek your name,
down corridors and unmarked rooms.
How It hoped for your arrival.
Oh, how It was eager.
The Monster—it knows what you’ve done.
It knows where your mistakes lie
awake festering
in piss soaked sheets and swarming, fly-ridden trash fields.
It is without sin.
Don’t leave a trace of doubt.
Do not imply you’re unknowing to rules.
Piles of construct; you are considered doomed.
Oh, look how it wails of its own flamboyant nature.
Oh, look what a fine example it makes of itself.
But, for you?
Well.. I fear you reek of self doubt.
It traces you down and pins you up against a wall with words
and like a grasping, greedy child
I am spoon-fed
descriptors in bitter detail of my own downfall.
-Jordan Conine
Things That Break
​
I hate it when things break.
There's too many things in this world that break
I wish everything was indestructible all the time.
Life would be so much easier.
I hate when glass breaks.
It gets everywhere, and it's dangerous,
So you have to clean it quickly,
Or someone could seriously hurt themselves.
I hate when glass breaks.
I hate when the sink breaks.
It leaks everywhere, and it makes a mess.
If someone steps in it in sock feet, it is such an inconvenience.
Someone could slip on it, and they could hurt themselves.
I hate when the sink breaks.
I hate when a bone breaks.
The bone sticks out in a way that’s unnatural,
And the sharp pain singes the entire limb.
Such a shame for someone to hurt themselves so badly.
I hate when a bone breaks.
I hate the way my heart breaks
When you add the word "break" to your vocabulary.
My heart races and my stomach churns.
My blood boils with anxiety and fear,
My whole body becomes overwhelmed
My eyes start watering as my body forces them to cry.
It’s the only way my body reacts.
It’s uncontrollable. It’s a reflex.
I hate the way my heart breaks
When you add the word “break” to your vocabulary.
-Isabel Willis
Death: A Sonnet
I hate death for all that he took away.
The goodbyes that I never got to say.
Bullets where I’m from always go astray.
Too many early graves, black clouds, bad days.
I despise the reaper for hurting me,
he took away some of my friends and family.
Scythe so sharp yet no one can ever see,
drowning in anger and insanity.
Death is simply just a new beginning,
I wonder what is on the other side.
Look at the pictures and you can see me grinning,
crying, reminiscing on another time–
I pray one day I see them all again.
Until then, I’ll be thinking of my friends.
-Elijah Sprott
Back to the Water
No stone slab over a vessel,
six feet beneath the Earth.
No plot of land with ashes spread.
No home to return to;
Perhaps I’ve really lost you.
And with that despondent rumination,
I make my way back to the water.
Each current purls
over pebbles on the shoreline.
An audible trickle
as it sprightly retreats,
nearly in unison
with the tears
freely flowing down my face.
Yearning
for your presence
with such ferocity,
as if I’m bludgeoned
and can’t catch my breath.
Cold, damp sand,
sticking to my feet
keeps me grounded,
bringing me back
to humid days of summer,
spent with this water
we came to know.
A breeze rolls in,
carrying the scent of a mountain lake.
She whispers,
“I’m here.”
-Sandra Ferguson
Words
What are they really?
Letters that make sounds.
Consonants, metaphors, and vowels,
Adjectives, verbs, and nouns.
WORDS
Beauty, lust, love
Dreams, kisses, hugs
WORDS
Can words explain feelings?
How do you describe butterflies in your stomach?
Love can’t be limited within the framework of words.
Love is an act; love is a verb.
WORDS
So many of them to choose
None mean as much as saying “I love you.”
-Jariz Paige
Sundown
Orange and pinks take flight as it’s time for night.
Such a beautiful sky, I hope I can get by.
They hold so much hate.
Oh, I better not be late.
“Don’t be here after sundown, boy!”
They spoke with conviction
while I choked with their superstition.
Faster, step by step.
Deeper, breath by breath.
Each step I feel closer to death.
Eyes follow me, treating me like a tease.
Quarters fly from windows, hitting me with ease.
Why can’t they maintain order?
I’m almost there, such a burden to bear.
Such a beautiful sky, I’m barely getting by.
Praying to be home before sundown,
so Mama doesn’t have to be alone.
Their ignorance holds my life hostage,
causing internal carnage.
I’m finally home,
tell Mama it’s safe and she doesn’t have to be alone.
“Don’t be here after sundown, boy!”
They spoke with hate, but they didn't hold my fate.
-Tiarah Swann
He (as You Would Refer to God)
There is a dog in my bed. Its mouth waters
even though I have fed it.
it wants to chew me through and through
And spit me out as nothing I was before.
I quench its thirst only for an hour at a time
So that it does not chew through the mattress.
A rabid thing, it will never hurt me.
Even as all teeth,
All bone,
All bite,
I am not its desire.
I pat down its fur when it scares in its sleep
It is safe with me.
I nurture it, though it bites.
Not me
Never me.
-Fox Micah
The Catalyst
​
Hands gripped firmly,
a cool touch of dry skin and
the rounded shape of fingernails.
Jaw clenched,
a forced sound,
but words unable to form.
Dilated pupils surrounded by perfect hazel irises.
A single breath shallow and slow,
exhaled
and never filled again.
Words that fall between sobs,
“I’m not ready yet.”
Oh, but my darling you are.
A swift shove
in forward motion.
Girl,
you don’t know it yet,
but this is your season.
An intimate encounter with death
to lead you to
the most beautiful souls
with which you were meant to connect.
Those who will share their innate light,
to shine along the path
you will now navigate,
and hold your hand
as you reach into the depths of yourself
to see the beauty of your own gifts.
Confusion, tears, and visceral heartache,
but you will learn, grow,
and radiantly bloom.
It’s woefully wrong to perceive this
as an inhibition
when in the grand scheme,
this
was the catalyst.
-Sandra Ferguson
Unity
Peace
Something we don’t quite understand
Promised fruits of the land
Yet somehow unachievable
Or maybe just unbelievable
Earth is our home
We may be silent, but we are not alone
Peace
Not unattainable
Not a fable
It is real
And something we can feel
But we can’t remain silent
We cannot be violent
We have our voices
And a power to make choices
Nature is watching
The clock isn’t stopping
It’s time to make a stand
And take back our lands
Earth is a united place
So we have to be the best in our race
We are humankind
Not some silent minds
We have power
And it’s our hour
Our birthright
To fight for what we believe is right
It’s time to rise and take a stand
And reunite this broken land
But change doesn’t happen on its own
We have to make the leap
We cannot fear of being beat
Peace
For what we finally deserve
Join the fight and serve
Not with our fists
With our words
It’s time to make a change
No more being on the stands
It’s time to take back our promised lands
Peace is our friend
And it will be ours
In the end
-Onyx Bussing
Mementos
It's weird. I sit and I watch as the yellows of the sun turn
Into something that makes me want to throw up.
The dark is putrid and it's molding.
It says things to me that I don't let myself hear.
I forget that it was ever bright outside, and I wish that it would
Allow me to lighten my burdens; open the corridor a little more
So I don't feel the need to learn how to breathe again.
Maybe the morning will be better.
But the morning is never better. It is never more refreshing
Than the last of the black fading from the sky.
The morning is hopeful
And all hope dies when it is eaten.
I must have eaten it
To fill my stomach.
-Fox Micah
...
silence
voices echoing
your eyes looking into mine
waiting… patiently
“say something”
organizing…
thinking…
what to say, how to say it.
start with
“i’m sorry”
“what for?” i never know
it starts slowly
one
word
at a time
then
it spews out like a faucet, one that's been
clogged for years that finally gets fixed and just
drains until there’s nothing left to spew out but
broken sobs and an ocean of tears
but that’s when you look at me and say
“let it out… get it all out”
your soft hands caress me
my own find their way into your golden strands
and i am reminded that i have you.
and it's all gonna be okay ♡
-Isabel Willis
Saving a Friend
I want to save you, and what for?
You sit there content with certain demise.
I cannot do this anymore.
A feeling so awful, I’ve never felt it before,
occurring when I gaze upon your bloodshot eyes.
I want to save you, and what for?
I want to get through, but you’ve shut the door,
creating wounds that grow larger in size.
I cannot do this anymore.
Your actions harm you to the very core,
and every day, a small part of you dies.
I want to save you, and what for?
A change must come; to you I implore,
though your words are filled with wretched lies.
I cannot do this anymore.
You’ve been a good friend, one I could adore,
but this is a most unpleasant surprise.
We want to save you, and what for?
We cannot do this anymore.
-Brandon Lemery
Easy
​
She touches me with her cold feet
On my lanky legs
Seeking out my warmth
I grab her foot trying to warm them
With my hands
At that moment simultaneously
She warms my heart
And she doesn’t even know it
Her inner child comes out
It’s so nice to see her
All I do is look at her with adoration
I have never met
That beautiful little girl before
It’s an honor to meet her now
She lets me read her pages
That no one has ever seen before
They have tethered over time
But I give them a little TLC
And they brighten the room
As new words appear
She asks who loves the sun?
I say almost everyone
I am Icarus with my waxen wings
But as I get closer to her, the sun
As the wax drips and melts
All I can say is
Almost everyone
-Hope Gooden
Youth
I indulge in my vices
During these melancholy winter nights
The false warmth that a Henny gives me
Against the packing chilly snow
The venom is my weakness
Not my strength
Addiction is my conviction
I want to live life as a stoic
Surviving off of simple necessities
But I cannot help but accept an offer
I cannot refuse
Given to me by a hand
Who offers anything to a bitch
A female dog who chokes on food
Salivating over simple pleasures
Licking my chops in anticipation
Of the next savory meal
And the next one
And the next one
-Hope Gooden
Ouroborus
​
Pay attention to the big details
Stop looking for the simple little things
That the big man can’t comprehend
An ouroboros knot protruding from my stomach
Or the haggard breathing and tight joints
That I’m so used to
These are the things that are supposed to
Put you at ease
But you can’t really look at me
3D vision, speed of light precision
And you still somehow look
Right through my animalistic being
Exhaustion sweeps across my blood cells
They’re trying to reproduce
Even if I keep killing them
Over and over again
My atoms want me alive
My intentions want me dead
-Hope Gooden
Black Is Beautiful
Beauty is in the eyes of the beholder
Roses are red, violets are blue, nothing more beautiful than you
Whether you black as night or bronze as copper
Racism, Discrimination, Segregation: We helped build this nation
From the scars on our backs to the blisters on our fingers
From them ships, those shackles and chains around our ankles and hands
To becoming doctors, lawyers, senators, governors, and President of this nation all the same
Love the skin you’re in, no one can take it from you
From the crown of your head to the soles of your feet
Embrace your culture, we’ve come a long way
We are descendants of Kings and Queens of a beautiful nation
Your Black is Beautiful; today is our day
-Isaiah Nicholson
Sleep Apnea
The room is coated in darkness
like walls of smoke; it’s alluringly
intoxicating. Enjoy the moment, enjoy
your sleepiness and
breathe in.
Your body is enveloped in the arms of the man
pressed against you. Take in the scent of patchouli
incense and dedicate your senses to the body warming
your back; yet, it’s too warm. Your sensitive skin burns
in the heat that creeps
up your spine and settles in the crook
of your neck, thick warmth reaching
every part of the man except for his
calloused fingertips. Rough
unkempt nails scrape away the rolled on oil perfume
that you dabbed thoughtfully over blue and purple
veins, ever so careful in being desired the way
you desire vanilla cream and frosted amber and
breathe out.
Focus on the deep grays of the night
and hope the sun will rise pink and yellow,
your favorite colors. You will get to see it.
You won’t suffocate.
-Willow Greene
Mulholland Drive
You were the blue, cube-shaped box.
I was the golden heart chained necklace
That was supposed to be the key.
I have a street named after me,
And you were my favorite flowers
Growing in the valley
Next to the cemetery
Where my family is buried.
You were as soothing as jazz,
But you never liked that analogy.
I got it all wrong,
You were Daphne,
And I the unmasked ghoul
Whose percussion was too loud.
Oh, I hate to say it.
You were written by a man
Who tells the same stories
Over, over, and over again.
There is no difference or solution,
The climax nonexistent,
And the credits roll.
-Hope Gooden
I Used to Write Poems About You
​
And the day you entered my life.
And the permanent grin on your face.
And the short life you lived.
I used to write poems about you.
And how your fur followed me when you did not.
And how you changed me.
And how you are my forever best friend.
Cliche.
I know.
I used to write poems about you,
and I will never stop.
I will not forget you.
My forever muse.
-Laci Howe
My Band Aid
A heart:
Shattered
Slaughtered
Squished in
the hand of a lover.
Blood pours-
through the hand-
once held in mine.
Thumb that graced my knuckle,
puncturing what once was his.
Thrown upon the floor.
Left to wilt away.
Piece together what remains.
Crimson leaks through the cracks.
Pooling on the floor.
a pile of murdered desire
Swept off the tile
into my chest.
Boom.
Boom.
Boom.
Back to life.
Forest filled eyes
cry for my pain
Put together what’s broken.
And make it his.
My heart is yours.
-Laci Howe
Processing Remedies
My heart is a loading circle
unlike squares it just keeps
buffering with unfair
butterflies
endless amounts of loops
and hopes I would one day
come back to you
too many tabs in the back
of my mind
they are slowing down
the motherboard
Wiki, how do I stop looking at
their instagram?
Hey Siri, where do I go from here?
Perhaps WebMD is right.
This isn’t no ordinary heartbreak.
maybe, just maybe, it’s
a heart attack too
so instead of
coming back in the end
one day
I can figure out
how to get over you
-Kayla Mattison
Calculus
i want you
but
i can't have you.
it’s like a math equation
complicated, with an obvious
solution.
use common denominators they say,
cancel out the toxicity, negativity,
the bullshit.
yet still i am dividing my attention
every. which. way.
what is that saying
called again?
oh yeah, PEMDAS…
persistent. evil. menacing. demanding. arrogant. sociopath.
no wonder i failed at love,
because i failed at math too.
-Kayla Mattison
Loot Fairy
it pitters and patters
blood droplets scatter the air
the laced wings ripped and scared
satchel on its side
crunches and rubs like sandpaper,
inside.. decayed, rotten
t e e t h.
heinous laugh
devilish crimes,
you must lock your doors with fright.
using a venomous noose
of floss to retrieve
it...
at
all
costs.
-Kayla Mattison
Mooing at Ducks
Your mouth races to keep up with your
sonic booming emotions
and your faster-than-light thoughts
along a brain of melted and fused wires
from all those
curses, prayers,
wishes, dreams,
interjections,
and, epiphanies traveling 186,000 plus miles
per second.
You shine hotter than the sun
and your mind expands beyond
flash point,
breaking
this universe's barriers,
pounding down dogma
and smashing all the metaphors to bits.
I'm lucky enough to have been
there for your beginnings;
that small compactly contained
moment of anticipation into life.
The suddenness of a big,
bigger and biggest bang,
A let-there-be-light moment.
Damn the singularity.
To hell with the seven deadly sins
laws of thermodynamics
and the Prime Directive.
We share constellations from
dust and despair
along different planes of existence
and different dimensions;
Burning notes and dark matters rests,
the quantum foam time signatures
and sacred mean
clefs
composes our music
structured from balls in hoops,
tools on pores, pain and petulance,
Netflix and comics,
“Cumbies” and Speedy,
cinema and mayhem,
special sandwiches,
and spiteful salads...
...the fragments and pieces of you…of me,
our personalities that make us…
…moo at ducks.
Love ya, Boo.
-Lee Gooden
Unalike
Winter stars fall earthward,
floating flakes hint
disguised identities,
covert paratroopers,
infiltrating an icy night.
Behind fast food brothels
and enemy dumpsters,
they’re armed with shovels,
brooms, carrots
magic hats and faith.
They target and gain
tropical ground,
wary of enemy boot-treads,
tank tracks and angels
in the snow.
-Lee Gooden
Tammy
You are so strong, so powerful,
laughter aflame in the face of your
pain and the pain in your
face,
cocooned perverse humor
bombarded by the diversity
of your internal maelstroms.
Assuaging rains
feed
your appetites
and slake your
thirsts,
making your curiosity
smile.
Such sensations that were
all once upon
a time
and now all at
once,
magnify
your body
and mind's
sheen,
a radiance brighter
than suns,
dilute dark
matter shadows
across vast
universes
that are no one
and nothing
and everything,
a holy
and sacred you.
-Lee Gooden
Bowie’s Knife
I am in the shower with Bowie’s knife.
The cut-up droplet lyrics
and water music takes me
to where I am still a zygote.
I am also two, ten, eleven, thirteen, sixteen,
twenty, forty and fifty-three.
I am having my first kiss
and watching the moon landing.
I am intoxicated and hungover.
Kerouac sings to me and terrifies me.
I wash with Bowie’s knife,
drying my hair and shivering,
freeing gray from blonde leaves,
ecstatic with just holding hands,
just loving my wife,
and all the women that
dared to love me.
Long term and one-nighters,
I am there,
still bleeding from the tonsils
and chewing ice.
Bowie’s knife cleanses me.
Dissected muses ride me.
I submit to their blocks and wires.
I give into guns and rose coma dreams.
Bowie’s knife is sharp,
a pithy witness to pity.
Bowie’s knife carves the soap.
I slice through suds and asides.
I am watching Captain Kangaroo
and Persona.
I am crying at a cuckoos’ nest,
killing mockingbirds
and laughing at pythons.
I am three, forty-four, seventeen and fifty-three.
I hide under dining room tables,
crayoning my way forward and back.
I am afloat and sinking.
I am praying and denying.
I never took the silver.
I’m stealing matchboxes and hot wheels.
Lost to time,
it all comes around,
I shake the see-and-say
until the cows say quack
and the ducks say moo.
I know you know me,
playing my first chord,
rabbit wearing my sneakers,
Elvising a sneered lip,
still looking for Lucy’s
diamonds.
I am high.
I am horny.
I am not awake,
dipping PB and J,
reading Superman
and thinking about R. Crumb.
I am writing my first poem,
play and story,
falling off the swings
and still having my first orgasm.
I pry my life with Bowie’s knife.
I am unstuck.
I stab my-selves with Bowie’s knife.
I, me, mine,
all my selves by myself.
I am still being felt-up, blown and beaten.
Windows opened.
Defroster on.
I am almost rolling my car,
dropping a transmission to the canal.
I am a corpse.
I am an infant.
I am a toddler,
a teenage Generation-Xer,
on a Baby Boomer bicuspid.
I am middle-aged.
I am born.
Time is a souped up and tricked out ride.
Bowie’s knife, a key to all the engines.
I am bought and conned,
minding multi-level businesses.
Someone thinks about me while masturbating.
I try to kiss the bride,
and the ring bearer topples from heat stroke.
I am twelve years old,
inclined on a milking parlor barn roof,
reading everything, books shoved
in my pants, shirt tail covering
the bulge.
I sneak away after the beatings
and touches, climbing my
branches to hide.
Love still hurts
with Bowie’s knife.
-Lee Gooden
Haunting Words
The words, they just come to me
Don't ask me to explain it
I cant even try
I don't know how it happens
Sometimes the words just flow
Sometimes I'm just struck with an idea
A metaphor appears in a fleeting moment
Yes, some don't sound right
But some do
Yes, most are too personal to share
But some aren't
And like all good poets
They come from strong emotion
Whether its anger from the state of the world or joy from a new discovery
I won't know
Until the moment hits me
I have to grab it or I lose it
It’s gone forever
Words will never be thought that way again
What do these words make me feel?
Ha, that one's simple
Anger
Anger that I don't understand it
Anger that I cant repeat it
Anger that the words never flow at a convenient time
Anger that I can't explain it
Anger that I can't make it happen
It's never perfect the second time
It's barely perfect the first time
Is this how it happens to all poets?
How do they do it?
A jumbled mess of scribbles on a sliver of tree
It turns out it can be so beautiful
But only when the universe allows it
There are beautiful words you will never hear
There are simply too many
I suppose it makes sense that the universe puts a limit
They allow only those that seize the moment to become poets
Whether or not they capture their moment is simply up to luck
-Sydney Foster
This Flame
This is it.
This is the spark I've been waiting for.
I may be an ember in a sea of flames,
And I may turn to ash sooner than the rest
But nothing shall put out the fire in my soul.
The fire that's been building for years
The fire that was put there with hope it'd be put out before the one who put it there does
The fire that was sparked by violence of a similar kind
The fire that knows peace is never going to work
The fire that will not go out
Because in this world, there will always be fire
The world will always be ablaze
Whether it is this fire or the next one
Not every fire can be put out the same way
We can no longer simply smother the flames
We must address the situation
We must work together
Every ember must work together
This is a call to action
This is the spark you've been waiting for
This is the time
Now you must
-Sydney Foster
A Black Woman
Every curve & every bend; a marvel.
Every scar & every blemish; a beautiful tapestry
Every detail a testament to the lives of old
The beauty marks, the hairs & arcs above or below
Are the things that give me that feminine glow
My body is curvy, my hips are wide & I come equipped with my own perfect backside
My back is strong, for many have stepped upon it or ridden its arc to reach the top
And I do it all with no recognition
The perfect example of a black woman
-Kamani DeAngelo
Still Here*
Beware the wildfire that is belief
It moves unprovoked
Devouring homes as if they were nothing more than small snacks
Imagine such a thing
Your feelings, Your life, and Your home; an insignificance, nothing more than a checkpoint on
the map of destruction.
And for what?
To trap me here?
In this burning pit of dejection
There never was an escape; I see that now.
Escape was a pipe dream; a diamond of hope; something I created because I had thought I could fight it off, I had thought that I could rise from the grave that was defeat.
But you knew; didn’t you?
You had every idea what you were doing to that bright eyed girl there once was
How could you not know? You left me there.
To fend for myself
In the pit of festering shit
Cause that’s what I am
Isn’t it?
That’s what i’ve always been
To everyone
I thought you were different
Designed to love me.
Who did I inherit it from, I wonder?
The touch of misery
Like a plague I spread it
But not maliciously
Oh no
This all started as a cry for help
And it remains like a candle through the brisk night
Still burning
Waiting for the suffering to end.
-Kamani DeAngelo
Surreality of Existence
More than everything,
But less than nothing.
No there or was, nor is and here.
No things to have nothing of.
No hands to spin, no sand to fall.
Less than no,
Not negative.
Nothing.
Yet all.
All places, all times, all states and possibilities.
Everything to have.
And every time to be.
More than everything.
Beyond positive.
All.
This is a backwards game.
The clothes fit you, you do not fit the clothes.
Our reality lies to us, whispers small truths.
For everything to be, there must have once been nothing to have.
And yet, here we are.
The possible is bred by the impossible.
It's a simple equation, one of mathematics gone to all, never to be, nor was ever.
This is the surreality of existence.
​
​
- CJ VanGuilder
​
​
Son of Stars, Child of Night
"Go to sleep," they often say.
As if it were a place, I could stay.
If only things were that easy for me.
An insomniac's life is the one I see.
In bed I lay awake at night.
My ceiling illuminated by crescent light.
Our sister satellite's silver glow,
Comforts me when I'm alone.
A wink of sleep is all I ask.
Staring up at the stars grazing past.
I beg and plead to the burning orbs.
"Please," I say. "Please, keep me awake no more."
And for a moment, the world stands still.
No birds, no wind, no chilling thrills.
No laughter, no sand, no leafy trees.
No grass, no flowers, no buzzing bees.
The world is dark, and obscured from my sight.
For reasons unknown, it matters not tonight.
I roll out of bed to dance around.
My mind gone mad from the lack of sound.
But the world stays the same, as it always seemed to do.
But the stars, oh the stars.
They danced too.
​
- CJ VanGuilder
​
​
Youthful Curiosity
The seven-year-old mind cannot fathom the breadth of our universe.
And yet that is exactly what was attempted,
Staring up at the glorious dome above.
The stars and planets cast along its surface.
I stared for a long while.
I understand now why the adults bicker and fight.
Why the world is so bleak outside.
Why when it rains, it pours.
I feel alone.
Why is it so cold all of a sudden?
​
​
- CJ VanGuilder
​
​
HEAT
HEAT
Imagine everyone you've ever met in one room.
Stuffed like a turkey dinner, or college students at a dorm party.
There's no free space, nowhere to move, packed like sardines.
H E A T
The mind goes fuzzy in a crowd like that.
So immense in volume, yet so small in size.
The constant movement makes you want to jump and shout, fight and spasm.
You feel explosive.
H E A T
But you want to get out. You want to escape.
You despise the mass, you fight against it, pushing and shoving, smacking and driving elbows into unsuspecting party-goers.
The energy is too much, nothing can stand still, no one can make a decision.
Everything's on a razor's edge, ready to blow, perhaps already in the process.
H E A T
But that doesn't matter, forget about everyone else.
You want to get out, fighting desperately against the energy, but you cannot stand your ground.
You're forced to move, forced to change form and shape, to contort against your will.
H E A T
The room is getting bigger.
You claw your way past the ravees, lights flashing and fog assailing your nostrils.
Your enemies are lessening in numbers, packed less tightly now.
You pop out like a spore, finally free from the maelstrom mass.
Standing still, a shaky breath.
coalesce.
​
- CJ VanGuilder
​
​
Coalesce
The human experience, an electrochemical illusion of existence.
Aggregations of the deceased form the autonomous machinations of the universal desire to be.
The accomplishments of the man whom walks the moon, are infinitesimally irrelevant to the observer in the stars.
The mind fractures across space as the spirit stretches through time, the fourth dimension piercing the body like a spear.
Our souls splatter across the cosmos, blood drips down the shaft as our eyes view our futures and pasts.
Concepts shatter across the manifold, infinite fractals of idea and thought spread amongst the shards of our fragile reality.
Find the deeper meaning, discover the why.
When when becomes where, and where becomes when,
you become nothing.
Give in, fall,
be absorbed into the vast everything.
You, the singularity.
You, the observer.
Coalesce.
​
- CJ VanGuilder
​
​
Box
If everything I ever was,
Was placed inside of a box.
I'd like to think I'd be full
Of some pretty cool stuff.
But then, what really is a box?
What really is inside?
If something is inside the box,
Does that mean everything else is outside?
Is a box just infinity minus one?
Is the closest we can get to understanding the unlimited,
The best our feeble minds can muster,
Just an empty box?
I used to be inside a box.
Now I'm part of the everything.
​
- CJ VanGuilder
​
​
Atlas: Heart
​
The stars, our compass.
By your side I am myself.
This map we follow.
-CJ Van Guilder
E-R-G-O [Sphere]
Dance!
Scarlet weavers stream through the streets, parading in their colorful facial obscurations.
Forced along by the whims of the societal machine.
Crunching our bones to dust if we fight back.
We prance like deer in headlights, woven by string and festooned along the railings like madmen on display.
Everyone is crazy.
Maybe I'm mad, maybe I'm crazy
The voices won't stop.
I just want silence.
The man in the hat rests in my rocking chair, he screams.
The man with no face straddles my waist.
The air is leaving my lungs.
My throat burns.
Please,
Please,
Please make it stop.
​
- CJ VanGuilder
​
​
Neutron Passerby
Two star-crossed seekers.
Flown away on black velvet wings and tangled up in spider webs.
Never a moment's rest, never any peace.
Pushed to edge over and over, on the precipice of success and the repetition of our guardian failures.
House of the metaphysical sort,
Always some other place to be.
Your eyes saw the same, the crashing waves, the gusting wind.
The only constants were the hopes we forged and the swords that rang
I never gave up, I wouldn't, I couldn't.
Shooting pulsar, blazing past.
I'm destined as a Neutron Passerby.
Never cared much for the cards, the crystal ball, or the lotion.
We are who we are, and who we're meant to be.
The Fermi Paradox rings true, "if you're out there, why can't I find you?"
Dust settled at the end of my torture.
The tooth lay on the ground.
In the pouring rain a buzz,
My life, my reason, my will of being.
All the chains I've been shackled by, the ball attached to my leg.
It wasn't a solar flare jettisoned into space.
I've been a collapsing core, a stellar oddity.
Strange Matter.
Fermionic Fallacy.
True Love.
All of it for you.
​
- CJ VanGuilder
​
​
Climb that staircase
​
Next step
Close, Near, Next
Climb that staircase!
On the precipice
Looking to the valley
Snow Capped peaks
We gaze from afar
Climb that staircase!
Don’t fall down!
No more doors
No more windows
Take in the view
Before it’s gone
No more doors
No more walls
Nothing to protect us
Nothing to keep us confined
Climb that staircase!
A shooting star
A falling star
A dead star
A new star
Nebula,
Nebulae,
Nursery,
Swaddled Star
Next step
Close, Near, Next
Step after?
Far, Unknown, Amazing
Step beyond?
Climb the staircase,
Any speed is fine
But never for any reason
Take a step from behind
-CJ VanGuilder
Spew
“I will not stand to be disrespected” spews from your vocal cords.
As you stand to disrespect me.
I sit here.
Absorbing.
Reflecting.
Millions of them
STAND to disrespect
Millions of us.
“Prove to me you are worthy”
Seated behind his desk with his
false opportunities.
I’m stunned.
Wondering.
When will enough,
finally,
be enough?
Society promises freedom,
equality.
We suffer from our lack of a certain projected appendage.
We are pushed down.
Dampened, dulled.
Hushed, gaslit.
Within their equality,
we are expected to fold.
But their equality
Was not made for us.
Can not possibly contain us.
We stand up,
when we reach our limit.
And when we go home,
we are still trapped.
Trapped within their society.
We go home,
we worry.
We worry that somehow,
it must have been us.
It couldn’t have been them.
-Tiffany Gates
Liminal
Am I invisible?
A voiceless being,
Crying from unseen places.
Is this how the in-between feels?
I feel numb.
Yet somehow,
I feel anger and pain
Festering within me.
Not dead or alive,
Or at least I want to believe.
But it feels wrong,
What happened to me?
I used to smile
And laugh.
But now,
It’s just tears.
And silence.
It’s just a phase,
You will be fine.
I think they’re all wrong.
Is this what being in-between is?
Just flesh and bone,
But invisible?
My eyes are open.
But my voice is gone.
I’m just watching
Like a sidelined player
In a losing game.
My game clock running low,
Seconds remaining and I’m down.
Am I alive or dead?
Guess I’ll never know.
But at the end of the day,
I will always feel stuck between.
Forever torn,
Between two places,
At the same time.
I am liminal
But I want you to see me.
Hear me pounding
On the only door left.
This is my last push,
Notice me.
I am slowly falling,
Through these cracks
Of all my burdens.
I am drowning.
But not in water.
In weight,
Of doubts,
And insecurities.
The pane of glass,
Separating us.
My voice drowned out,
By the crowd on your side.
I tried.
But I will forever be,
Stuck between,
Earth and the Void,
There you’ll find me.
-Onyx Bussing
Learning to Warm Cold Hands
At times I wish that
it could be this way forever.
No longer familiar with the
warmth of your hands,
the drought of your insatiable
appetite,
the lack of my feeling and the
overwhelmingness of yours,
I reach out when I feel it is safe
enough to do so
and I allow myself this.
If it is not this,
your warmth against my cold,
the skin of my hands that have
changed so much, wringing
acceptance and trembling with
the guilt of my nature
against yours, that have become
so distant facing ones not unlike
mine
it is nothing.
I count your smiles with the fingers
of one hand.
When I reach five I don’t offer
the first word anymore
When I reach seven with the second
the first begins to shake
like the ground that we walk on,
because you are so big and I am so small.
If I bite my tongue
you will not yell
and send weeks of my careful
diligence crumbling like this
body that you inhabit—the only one
that you are allotted
and it is running away from you.
Like I’ve been, and everybody else
who hears the beginning of the avalanche.
If I bite my tongue
and so my tongue is raw
and I freeze from the ice beneath my feet.
I don’t tell you I love you
it leaves room for debate
and debate with you leaves room
for it to become worse.
I don’t tell you my guilt
of not celebrating your birthday
or not apologizing for it
or for hating you.
or loving you.
I find that a fatal flaw in me
is you
and what of you I own.
-Fox Micah
Hauntological
Sometimes nostalgia sinks its teeth into me
Even now.
I have not lived that way for a long time,
In that house
Or with those trees out back.
I am no longer haunted by the dreams of
Women with white dresses
And slack jaws
And the yellowing of the paint surrounding them.
And yet
I find myself plagued by what has replaced them.
When I sleep here
I can hear the sounds there.
Women chattering and
The sound of the train rattling outside on its tracks.
The chair rocking
And a fist hitting the drywall downstairs.
I dream,
Not of the women
And not of the stains on the carpet
But of myself
And the way that my own presence
Has haunted me for a lifetime.
-Fox Micah
Silly Lake Thoughts
Do you ever feel totally alone,
even when you’re surrounded by others?
Like you’re spinning around on this big, green rock that’s covered with humans
And you’re all alone?
…yea, me neither.
Do you ever feel like something, other?
Like, something other than a human?
Like, some sort of hybrid creature or something?
Like… you don’t truly belong with the other humans?
Lol. Yea. Definitely not.
Like maybe that’s why everything is so hard for you?
Haha, yea. No, totally.
I’ve never even thought of that.
-Tiffany Gates
Hook
I wanna make it work.
A pit of distress in my belly,
Fills with overwhelming emptiness.
Back
and
forth.
Distress
and
Emptiness.
I wanna make it good if it kills me.
A song repeats within my thoughts.
It’s so loud.
I wonder if others can hear it.
You have to be hurt to ever feel good.
Words can be empty.
Feel empty, too.
I wanna make it work.
Am I just a word?
Maybe only a letter.
I wanna make it good ’til tomorrow.
Hope penetrates the pit.
Consumes my body.
My belly.
My mind.
You have to be hurt to ever feel good.
-Tiffany Gates
Roll of the Dice
Clickity clack clack
dice were once so simple
a simple d6 in a gamble
with dots instead of numbers
all you had to do was roll 3
times to get the highest score
but in the eyes of someone like me,
i now roll for investigation- how aware am i of my surroundings?
is there anyone following us?
nat 20 not a soul
i sneak by the guards with not a soul catching me…
that’s how it goes in my head.
in reality i rolled with disadvantage, rolling a 17 and a 2.
i trip and fall.
dice used to be so simple.
but now
d20, d12, d10, d8, d6, d4, d2
one roll of any of these, and your fate is decided
your turn, roll for initiative.
-Isabel Willis
Melted
drip
drop
drip
Oh to be a simple water drop
dripping from the shingles from the roof.
Why, just a couple hours ago
I was a snowflake falling fast out of the sky.
The air was frigid and gray,
I could barely see my friends around me
or the ground that was quickly approaching.
My vision cleared when headlights pulled
into the driveway as I landed on top of the roof.
I watched as the family quickly shuffled into the house,
their faces buried into the holes of their sweaters.
I was cold too, I wanted to go into the house.
But I can’t, for I am just a simple snowflake that
has fallen from the sky.
The sun is starting to come out as it sets.
I still sit on the roof as the family sits inside
cozy, warm, safe.
A girl puts away laundry and
rests on her bed as she stares out the window.
I’m starting to sweat. She sees me,
and I see her as I start rolling down
the incline of the roof.
I tumble, and watch as the sun
glows a bright orange from behind
the gray clouds.
I smile at the girl and think.
At least I got to see the sun
-Isabel Willis