history and truth

Three Poems by KJP Garcia

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Three Poems

by

KJP Garcia

Stop By

Did you ring the doorbell?

This house is your house –

so to speak.

 

Open so long as you let yourself be heard.

But locks must be engaged, shutters closed

–there are some

that do harm –

 

Villains are not simply storylines, costumes, secret identities, powers

but will and win if not on guard

Feel free to come by, as (is) possible, you’ve come by before so unknown

So entrance was removed.

Time, this, as always will be different.

 

Afford

If on verge then do well to continue

Ceiling leaks, drops break in.

Mattress steals space from living.

 

And this teetering persists?

Make a go of it

– rest doesn’t go well

Fall, jump, get pushed

-expire-

afford a balance to repair’s value.

 

Which Side

Which side of the Hudson is for Verlaine

And which for Rimbaud after the break-up?

Not world enough / strong enough

to open petals

lay out

lyricism

illuminations

the way New York

can

with all the best pharmaceutical grade . . .

And two rivers and upstate to run to and Jersey

ready to back pocket

the written

on train out of here

to calm down.

 

So, Seine, which side is for Warhol and which for Basquiat

When done / decorated enough

to have back what is held close /

unwanted?

 

Poetic Statement: Experience is a plurality of convergences, interruptions, digressions, departures. These occurrences are the fragments which create larger memories and the narratives one attempts to convey to others. The closer one comes to examining the past, the more one notices how the present constantly interferes. The narratives one creates from the keepsakes of yesterday are shattered and forged again with new data – sensations, perceptions, insights, exemptions, the heard-words, the read-words, the thought-words, the dream-words, the images and ideas of having been inserted into a life of disturbances.

Bio: Kenyatta Jean-Paul Garcia is the author of This Sentimental Education, ROBOT and Yawning on the Sands.

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Three Poems by Tyler Dixon

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Three Poems

by

Tyler Dixon

 

Enough

One day when I’ve had enough
I’ll pack my bags and hit the road
hitchhike out past my life
and leave myself alone.

  Shouts Heralded in the Wind

Caustic moments left to rot
in trying times maybe we’re not
all that we say we’re meant to be
on burning ground from sea to see.

Shadows light the way today
in triumphant gazes that we make.
The heroes lie dead on the floor.
Nobody lives here anymore.

In the midst of all this hate
the drums, they beat a lying fate
to which we submit and bleed
and struggle for the ones in need.
To grasp at a moment’s peace
on our backs we salivate,
sweating in the noon-day sun
how much longer can this go on?

 

Caustic moments left to rot.
Silhouettes of what we’re not.
Crowded dreams shattered in
a broken down and beaten heap
of sun bleached bones and shiny crowns.
The jewels we fight for make us drown.

Weighed down and tied to stone.
No one suffers here alone.

 

Circles and Cycles


Faces scattered in the wind.
Some things seem to never end.

Unified in isolation
suffocating with shining sand
reaching for a helping hand.
Deep breaths void of oxygen
Disappearing into the ocean
One by One
Again and Again.

Some things seem to never end.

Random particles and chemicals.
Organisms composed of molecules.
Finite beings with infinite potential:
Owned and controlled by debt and capital.

Drowning in the deep end not knowing how to swim
Pulling each other down with the best intention.
Some things seem to never end.
Spirits scattered in the wind.

Game over… Start Again?

 

Bio: Hi, my name is Tyler Dixon. I’m from Vancouver, British Columbia. I’m 29 years old. I’ve been writing “poetry” for a long time, probably since I was seven or eight years old. I’ve self-published three books but have never sent anyone, anywhere, any poems to be considered for publication. If I had to classify this work I would call it Poetry Without Borders…

Poetic Statement: These poems, much like their author, are unpolished, uncensored, unabashed, and uncompromising. If you believe that poetry and politics don’t mix, or that abstraction and metaphor are the most efficient tools of the poet, these are not for you. These poems are as much a direct resistant action as they are a collection of literature. Our lives exist in a constant state of information warfare, and the poems you are about to read are weapons in this fight. This collection represents a battle fought for illumination, freedom, and love, against servitude and fear. Which side you choose is up to you..

Three Poems by Ankita Anand

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Three Poems by

Ankita Anand 

Fillers

Interlinked fingers
A face buried in the hollow of a neck
Lips tracing the meanders of an ear
The swirl of a tongue around a navel

An embrace erases the gap between arms
An entry swallows up the chasm between legs

 For love is all about filling the void

As is sex

Roman Holiday

 

They were accosted on the gondolas of Venice

The honeymooners, and asked, ‘Why must you love, if you please?’

They hemmed and hawed, made much ado

And then decided to do as Romans do,

Finally declaring, ‘Let it suffice, O Rome

That we think of each other when we think of home

And if the home and the heart live together

It means we have homes everywhere.’

 

Quarter-Life Crisis                                                                                                                                             
when the years

spent

in

making

frantic

efforts

at

self-realization

finally begin

to throw up

results

that show you

are so full of

stuff and nonsense

that

to make

an altogether new

you

you

need

to begin

a-new

beginning

to

start

all

over

a-gain

Bio: Ankita Anand has been secretary, National Campaign for People’s Right to Information, editorial assistant, Penguin Books India, coordinator, Samanvay: IHC Indian Languages’ Festival and member, People’s Union for Democratic Rights. She is the co-founder of a street theatre group called Aatish, which produces plays on socio-political issues. As a freelancer she writes and edits. Her primary interest lies in working for the prevention of violence against women.

Her poetry has been chosen for publication by The Indian Review of World Literature in EnglishThe Riveter ReviewPapyrus-The Poetry JournalFirst Literary Review-EastEm Dash Literary MagazineSugar MuleThe CriterionWriters Asylum,LabyrinthLakeview International Journal of Literature and Arts and DeltaWomen Magazine. Some of these can be read at anandankita.blogspot.in. She wants, through her poetry, to make the felt read.

Poetic Statement: My poetry occurs when multiple layers of feelings simultaneously get entangled with each other, when I am feeling, and strongly so, but do not know what, why and how. In the process of putting my finger on the spot, poetry happens, as it does when I experience beauty and am compelled to share it, to reassure the word that it shall exist as long as we do. The hope is that as poetry helps me define my self and feelings, it will create connections and identifications in the readers’ mind and help them understand and articulate their own feelings better.

No End by Céline Anglemeyer-Harding

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No End

by

Céline Anglemeyer-Harding

(for LFD)

Once you sink,
once you take that vertiginous leap
into the chill inky abyss of the night;
you’re afraid at first,
there’s just too much.
And I knew I could never leave that darkness.
There’s no going up,
only unfathomably lower into obscurity.
And no one could get down to where I was;
there was just too much night around me.

On your way down
to the Cimmerian void,
you realize that the earth is dead anyway.
We’re all just slimy barnacles
sucking on its fat, revolting carcass,
eating its viscera and feeding off of its toxic miasma.
But what is worse
lifelessly performing in a sideshow of fetid inertia
or falling too far into the night —
past the ineffectual nothingness.
There was nothing left for me in that putrid carnival anyway.
Crazy or not,
scared or not.

 
Artistic Statement: Destroy everything you know. Quit your job. Quit your school. Quit your boyfriend. Quit your life. If it feels good, it’s not wrong. Nothing matters. Nothing exists. Nothing is sacred. Nothing is impossible. Everything is a lie. We’re all going to die anyway. If it’s not shocking or ugly, it’s not worth looking at. If there’s no blood, no pain, no shame; there’s no subjugation, no catharsis, no purpose. Fuck it, before it fucks you.

Bio: Experimental underground filmmaker, Céline Anglemeyer-Harding, has written and directed several feature films including the the neo-noir snuff classic, I Shit On God; the controversial documentary, Hashtag Dilation and Curettage, featuring footage of a woman live-tweeting her abortion; and the Razzie Award nominated romantic comedy, Just Because He’s In You, Doesn’t Mean He’s Into You. Her entire body of work has been banned in Canada. This is her first (and hopefully, last) poem.

Take It All Away

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Take It All Away

by

Rebecca Corshia

There you give me freedom but I don’t need it anymore,
Fake. You are illusionary,
Transcendence into a block of coal,
Cloaks black as a kettle burnt from the evening
Mocking strive for design, not neglect.
Intellect calls for us a great deal of patience.

Away to take the train there lays a great bank of gravel
Trying to crawl away the bird lies dead and is buried
By its lover.
The strength of the people is amiss and there is not one to care
Under-covering the blank dilemmas is a horrible task.
Great is the one who calls for us to be better
Then we shrink and hover and stretch
Until there is a great young tent concealing
Our insecurities and strengths.
The flounder is jealous.

I call upon the ancient powers to create within me a pure heart.
A sin upon a sin, how can one be alive, free, and naked?
Naked, we crawl as a great whale laughs in our faces,
Stress, coward, real, raw, sex, creation is nothing.
There is a law that condemns those who feel
The call and play dead.

Bio:
My name is Becky Corshia. I am entering my junior year at Gordon College Wenham, MA studying Psychology. I was part of a research study on power posing that won the Undergraduate Research Symposium in the Social Sciences Category. My interests lie within the fields of clinical psychology and counseling. I involve myself in researching human behavior, teaching roles, educational reform, cross-cultural situations, and promoting awareness about mental health issues. I write stream-of-conscious poetry and prose to process my own thoughts and emotions.

The Art Of Being Nobody

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The Art Of Being Nobody

by

Carl Paul Henneman

It is not, what it is

You’ll never change what it is

If we did what it is we want/

Bet these guys would stop touching kids

This world makes you feel crazy

Like you’re the only one seeing this

There’s a homeless man down the street

He got no insurance; he’s real sick

Whistling while we walk by

Oughta/ give him a roundhouse kick

& it’s only getting colder

Even though the ice is getting thin

Live a life but are we living?

Heart atrophy & we’re all in

Bought the fear; just hoping for change

We all know something needs to flip

As the story/s getting older

Anticipate apocalypse

I will be what I am

No one person owns

A fail-safe identity

Write on that tape

Over your mouth

Continue to laugh

Till the truth comes out

Can keep riding this bus

But it ain’t changing its route

Don’t play a part

We never were any more

http://zenspeaknine.com/

The Poetics of Immersion

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Immersion Poetry

The Poetics of Immersion

out(be)come

be(in)ginnings

Sentiment and Sensibility

 by Kenyatta Jean-Paul Garcia

Withinside of experience is poetics

an unhidden poetry runs its course through occurrences

a further unhidden poetry has been handed down and lived in for centuries in myth, fable, folklore, philosophy, religion, worldview, and other notions often marked as ‘culture’

images have existed

images exist

images created are tangled with past images

ideas are images to be

images are ideas had

images are ideas being had

the image and idea (of the image) is the center of the poem

even when the poem has no center or focus, the image/idea is

a direction of a poem is an image

a whole piece can turn on a preposition

into (for example) is an image/idea immersed into the wordery of the poem

the wordery is the added imagery of words surrounding the essential image

a room described is often done so just to place in or out of it the agent or patient of the lines

….

a poem finds its place immersed into other poetry at all points

no words exist alone

there is no alone with words

a single word is a combination of concepts, idea, and (what) sensiment imag(in)es

sense is a two-way conduit for sentiment

sensiment(al) is the poet’s stock of ingredients, materials, detritus, etc for poetry

sensiment is found art

sensiment is art forced upon artist via life and the image/idea occurring and being processed

….

the poem occurs within the overall web of poetics/wordery/sensiment

poem as written/being written is an act of immersion (at times invasion)

poem inserts into web of myth and history and truth and wish and current events and the POP

the pop the today’s need for myth with truth being subjected to wish

….

the poem once inserted into the umbrella of wordery undergoes the next step which is to be immersed into the reader

the reader more properly defined is the perceiver of poetry

the perceiver once in contact with the poem is in the poem is withinside the occurrence of the piece

minimalism, distillation and small vocabulary further allow for an enmeshment with the poem once the perceiver is immersed in the poem

the poem immersed in the experience of the perceiver

….

immersion poetry is NOT conceptual poetry

concept is but an aspect of/step towards idea

immersion poetry is not found poetry

all poetry is found in the cosmic and psychic language of the real and irreal/subjunctive worlds

possibility is its own myth

wish is a pantheon governing the will

….

immersion poetry enters this world wrapped in other wordery

it comes through and with all art and all pop

it comes with myth attached

it comes via quote via reference naked but for the air it has relationship with

it comes knowing it itself is at times nothing  other than a paraphrase a para-image para-idea

it gives room for continuation

for communion

it gives

it is conversation

it hears

poems hear

it is called to respond

it responds to call

it calls for response

respond and correspond is immersion

….

it does by being allowed to do

to do is to be received

perception is reception where poetry is concerned

where poetry has flourished in its immersion

as but a petal coming from and returning to a mythic center