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Madeline Hampton May 2019
Before the revolution,
I snuck into the capitol
with a pocket full of
Wrigley’s Doublemint
and a ski mask.

Lurking in their hallways
after hours. Hiding
in their aisles to find all their
loose pens,
I chewed gum
and covered all the tips
with Doublemint.

The ***** money in a politician’s pocket
will stick to their fingertips
from all the sugar and spit.
I stuffed the president’s inkwell
with gum stick wrappers.
Countless taxpayer dollars
will pour into the pockets
of Bic and Paper Mate
because of my vandalism.
Watch me take a bite from
the budget and chew.

While my comrades are
in the streets taking
tear gas and pepper spray
my breath smells of peppermint
and my bullets come in 35¢ packs.
Pens get capped with dextrin and aspartame
to snipe a signature from falling
on the bill that signs your life away.

I’m on the couch with my mask off
flossing and watching C-SPAN,
as the House collectively
wastes hours scraping
fountain pens and ballpoints.
Looking at a government
full of corrupt pearly whites,
my head thrown back,
I cackle like a mad criminal
with a mouth full of cavities.
An absurdist poem about weak activism.
Jalisa Allycia May 2019
If you ask me, he lit the match that set the Moon on fire
It’s not a myth; I was there, when I had no home
And I walked in Saturn’s ring rain for so long it sloughed off my skin
I marched, trying to flatten the crater I’d made
Because I was ashamed of it
I was the last meteor to hit his heart; the loudest
But that was so long ago
The quietest revolutions are usually the most violent
If you ask him, I smelled like Genesis and Revelation from the inside
******* insatiable
I slathered honey on my cheeks and boiled my blood
so hot until my arteries turned charred black
I licked my wounds from the impact and discovered just what the hell was poisoning me

If you ask me, I didn’t know him last night and I won’t know him on the last night
But my God, he inspires me
NO (1)
I am a warrior
My art is superior
I fight with words
My pen hurts than sword

I bask in the light
I chose only the path that’s right
God almighty is my guide
He remote-control my path

I am bolder
Even than the soldier
I say No to terrorism
Cybercrime and cultism

To evil-doers and corrupt government
Mismanagement of civil property
I say No to pop/rap art
Whose rhymes corrupt young mind
N E Waters May 2019
I wear my scars like diamonds
piece by piece
collected
from every place that I've been
mindless,
lost, blind, unable to find this
compassion
for fellow man
to help
myself, because the way
we treat the world
is the way we treat
ourselves,
and it's hell
out there --
but in here, just kind of warm,

in this home I've built
from scar tissue
to clothe me
when I'm homeless
because home is
where your heart is

and we fool ourselves
and romanticize
our drug abuse as art

from every start of
this sad little song;
the tiniest
violin
and we all can sing along

yeah, we all can sing along

and we sing:

me in my mansion
of scar tissue
I can't love myself
so I can't love you
(and) it's true
we're all lonely
lost
and if you could
only see me
remember just to breathe
just to be,
and then we
could look our reflections
in the eyes
and then me and you
might drop the veil
and finally realize
the spiritual
connection

to build bridges
even when we're helpless
if we could only be
just a little bit less
selfish:

take my plate
it's for you
I can't feed myself
I'd rather feed you--

But here in my mansion
of scar tissue
a phone call is like
a gunshot, please--

don't steal my diamonds,
don't
steal the only home
that I've built to
reside in

my vast hall
of vast walls

I'm afraid of December
but,
eager for the fall

this is all I've made
all these years
and if it all would
disappear

m a y b e   s o   w o u l d   I
well then maybe I
could grow you here
a garden--
wall to gravel,
great for drainage

to keep out all the rot
of the rotten cell the self built

I'll topple down
I cut meow-t
I'll bring the fall
and find my diamonds
made of skin

oh--if only to be free
of these walls
I'm living in,
to only excise myself
from my prison made from skin;

would you be there?
would we be there
together?

could we finally lie
eye to eye
breathe deep in
the rebellion

breathe deep,
break free,
of this cell
wall we've cemented
ourselves in to

this is me,
I want to sing

I want to sing with you

we'll swell well form
the start of one tiny violin

to a whole orchestra
of the whole world's song
all these cell-ves
all alone
but together
sing along

and we'd sing:

me in my mansion of scar tissue
I'm learning to forgive
myself
so that I can break
through

and it's true
we're all so lonely
and if I could only
see you
remember just to breathe
just to be
and then we
could break the glass,
I to I

and we'd all be free.
I mean like, **** it, right?
English Jam Apr 2019


Luke 12:49
“I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!”


This wasteland, desolate vegetable garden
No crops will grow, no sun will shine
No cool breeze to clean the air
of the smell of decomposition
Just dead things, the decay of man and dreams of hope
Which my black boots stomp on
I walk the ruin in silence

I walk past a monster sleeping by a tree
Turning, frowning
The monster is me
Its eyes are as red as judgement day
As red as the faces of the condemed
Those who stare at the 144 000, wondering if they are worthy
As red as the blood ******* in this ancient garden

This is a battleground
Oozing with pain, pleasure, splendor and misery
Even if Pythia already circled the loser's name in bright red
Allowing the victors to trample holy ground underfoot
Before they disappeared
But me
I stood here
Feeling all feeling being drained out

I walked past a monster weeping by a tree

“Everything good must come to an end,”
Mystery says
Pursing her lips
“And so must everything wicked
But the memories
Those which encircle their victim
And slowly tighten like great snakes
Suffocating their prey
Those last forever
And if those memories last forever
Then how can one remain pure in heaven
Without thinking about sin
Temptation must surely creep in
Poisoning the mind until it is consumed with the idea
Who is pure anyway?”
I know she is lying
(Turning)
But her words are surreal, slurred, seductive
(Frowning)
I look inside my heart to reassure myself
(Turning)
There is hope
(Frowning)
But there’s nothing there

(And the monster is me)


In the vegetable garden
A ruin
A wasteland
I stand
Not really existing


⊣⊙⊢

Rowan Wolff Apr 2019
You, who have doomed us
Murdered our children and our futures
Oppressed us under the name of
Progress
Watch in terror as we rise
We are done suffering
For the sake of
Worthless money
This is our home
And you are poisoning it
You pollute our waters
Contaminate our air
Burn our planet
No more!
It is time for you to remember
Why nobility of old feared
Revolution
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