Poetry Submission

Poetic Revolution

 The Winds of Change


The winds of change are upon us
Her birds of anarchy have been released
No destination
No direction
Complete surrender to the will of the world
Liberation from the prison of your mind
Salvation from the shackles of possession
Life is found in the dark corners of the world
Closely followed by deaths craving eye
Fall safely into the truth that is found within yourself
Only there will one meet their destiny

By Ryan Cristian


 The Vagabond


A new day has dawned
A new life begun
Silent statues of golden curiosity,
Cultivate a once forgotten perspective

Subtle risings of lost souls
Insignificant shadows of dying life
A graceful way to embrace the madness
Casting disbelief in reflected eyes,
That haunt your understanding of the

Challenge their down cast philosophy,
With the resonating pounds upon your chest
Stand in his way if you must
He shall simply walk around

By Ryan Cristian



poetic revolution

Society’s hand grasps our mouths in hopes of silence,
Flooding the media with endless scenes of violence,
Yearning for quiet corrupt bliss.
Our humane choices echo our endless voices
Through the hand that desires hopelessness
And disparity.
Logical clarity gives rise to selfless charity and
It’s fair to see the world through the eyes of equality.
Proud to be American, battles from our ancient heritage allow
Vocal prowess to spread enlightened knowledge
In a new age of social consciousness, envision it,
We cannot be stopped by the system’s imprisonment.
Shatter the chains, curse evil’s name in vain
Along with it’s oppressive claims.
Insight into truths about the mind reveal itself in due time,
It must be retained.
For we will speak, leak true knowledge,
Create a cataclysm of wisdom,
To establish and advance
Ethical notions with pristine precision.

By Jared Amory


United Serfs of America

poetic revolution

The ground growls like a lions roar
The air is scented with gun oil
Automated birds hum silently above
Like an eagle stocking its prey
We sing freedom
Fog of war creeps through our concrete jungle in darkness
Gravel trembles as rubble closes in
Rain falls from silent birds stinging and blinding us
We sing freedom
Community stands undivided
Cannon barrels peek around building corners and blast bleach infected water
We fall but are picked up by faith and heart
We sing freedom
Rubber shots scream from rooftops and flash bangs surrounds us.
Yet we still hear urban rubber soles stomp toward us
Our ears and noses bleeding
Our hearts cry freedom
Blurry figures behind shields with batons emerge before us
Gas masked faces and layered plated body armor divides humanity from an industrial complex
Silence stuns the air as a moment of clarity enlightens us
Our minds chant freedom

By Darragh Sean Ryan






I broke the shoes I had
walked on sincere roads up to the fork.
Deceived then by yellow hopes and bile
like oncoming autumn.

I never counted steps
I felt them like boulders on my eyes
on bony knuckles and on my gasping breathe together with my years
and loneliness surrounding.

If I ever dared to be a man
I would’ve never ran away
from your glance penetrating my innards
from your mouth which straightened the mangled flesh and the word “living”.

I fight, thump
I fight the wind and the due
of a decayed heart
just for a crumb of heaven
on a table filthy of hell.

Death, I wait for you
seated and drunk
being deprived
and old
a piece of rotten wood
devoured by souvenir termites.

By Ispani Luca



We Burn to Pledge

poetic revolution

A toad jumps but only the split skin of the toad jumps. Flags of schools burst into fire & student skulls roll in boiling blood-streams along curbs.
Jaws crack off like fresh, crushed walnut shells
under flaming tons of wheels. Long ghosts hook bottom echoes, pull at hems & breasts of dreams. Bone ash pyre smolders where a yellow bus crashes. Imagine yellow buses. Inherent insanity of DNA slides like Halloween lava over black concrete plates & filleted erasers. The weight of the moon is the

weight of ash plus you, squared by algebra. Faint from freedom. History needs burning twigs, electrocuted elephants, & chalk minds. We test kids to limit pliability & political revolution. A buzzard circles a devastated land.
An asbestos-cloaked figure kneels over
a charred piece of flag. A flashing car is a poisoned
fedora locked onto the head of a damaged sheriff.
Realize enlightenment is more necessary than education. Existential culpability, glandular secretions, fuck finger aware, holiday memories, Hollywood heroin, our system of social sin. Skeletons of myopic, overwhelmed teachers
scream instructions over excavating fires. Their bones expand & float away with smoke-fat waves of nuclear devastation. Every kid is deaf & dead. Every desk, the flushed janitor. Melted clocks. Books, properties of rooms & halls &
historical lies splinter in tumbling winds
across the uneducated land.

By Ron Androla


 Barring All Politics

poetic revolution

You have it in yr head. I assume
yr politics are a thoughtful stance
by whatever degree necessary for belief, or disbelief. Or maybe
you don’t give a damn about Washington & all that bullshit,
that’s fine. Watching television
inside a bubble is a spiritual
event, as is weeping at dawn
& at dusk, day in, day out.
Neuronal gamma flinch.
I know you are in pain because
I see yr eyes staring at film-stars
& the split moon pulls like
taffy light from a black, final
kiss. Fast-food radiation. Pizza
pi squared like primal gristle,
pizza topped with scorched
flesh coins. All the neighbors
applaud, applaud, you are
not so different, after all, in this cultural mud. We squeal & squeal tiptoeing over slaughtered humans
& potato-chip bags. Let the losers & the lost lose. From this catastrophe
art bursts our brains, fries our regrets.

By Ron Androla



Endless Night

poetic revolution

The heavens great barrier of melancholy flight,
Casts her shadow of the endless night.
The seasons change with a woeful smile,
my heart desires the endless summer denial.
The warm breeze of my forgetful sorrows,
pleads with the unknown tomorrows.
The welling sadness within loves delight,
Will forever haunt the endless night.

By Ryan Cristian



 Do You See Me?


Wandering soul
Broken, hurt, slowly picking up the pieces.
Is it not the right time for me?
Your color
Burnt orange
Glows, shines through me
Bringing out my inner peace
My urges can’t contain me
My anxiety won’t compel me
There are no words to explain you to me
Just mystery
Who are you, why did you enter my life
You will not leave my mind
To the point where this is tapping into my soul
Is this real?
Or is this just my anxiety?
Why is it that every time my heart and soul finds a connection
I just push it away again and again
thinking too much, plotting too much
Expecting too much
Calm my senses, believe In me
Love myself first before I can let that “one” in

By Chelsea Baker




Shattered perspectives of life
Inconsistent tranquility
Strangling notions of false heroes,
Dance along the break of liberation and destruction
Preach with your hands held high
Watching as they all die
Silhouettes of your absence
Cascading false shadows of certain sadness,
Surrounding the emptiness I reserve for my rehabilitation
My reconstitution
My rebirth
My relapse
The gravity of things to come,
Pronounce my fear as an endless void
Life and death a mere brush of nostalgia
The briefest of passing sensations
Flirting with the edge of recognition
The desired name that flutters at the tip of your tongue
Only to be lost
Deftly categorized under the irritations of the day
One more forgotten memory
One more accomplishment lost in the dusts of time

By Ryan Cristian



Scavenger’s Ball


Circle Heartless vultures. Scan the ground for symptoms of our distress. Swoop down with your tainted offers. You’ll lend us an antidote for our unhappiness. Manna from the heavens above. You’ll lend us enough to dig our own children’s graves. Soul-less institutions from Hell, chant the name of Jesus and claim to be saved.

Money changers in the temple, endorse the root of all evil for a piece of the take. The foxes guard the henhouse now. Skunks and weasels come and go as they may. Parasites present yourselves as noble representatives of Adam Smith and God. Exempt from competition, as capitalists, you’re fraudulent and flawed.

You pulled the world down now. It crumbles to the ground now. Your pyramid collapses and then. You hide the smoking gun, deny what you have done, you know you’d do it all over again. Your secret schemes and plans put our lives in your hands. Your promises mean nothing at all. Threw us under the bus. You are laughing at us, as you head off to the scavenger’s ball.

New horse of a different color but the same old puppet masters still pull the strings. We must change puppet masters you know, or tomorrow holds little hope for better things. London Bridge has fallen down. The high priest distracts us with “Hallelujah, AMEN.” And all the Kings great horses, and all the kings great men, can’t put Humpty Dumpty back together again.

Patience tiny Jackal. Wait for the lions to abandon their rotting kill. No one else would touch that decaying flesh you chew from our bones with practiced skill. Scavengers and leeches, you puff up like you are predators bold and brave. No stomach for the killing of course, you just wait for the putrid protein that you crave.

You pulled the world down now. It crumbles to the ground now. Your pyramid collapses and then. You hide the smoking gun, deny what you have done, you know you’d do it all over again. Your secret schemes and plans put our lives in your hands. Your promises mean nothing at all. Threw us under the bus. You are laughing at us, as you head off to the scavenger’s ball.

You sold us fresh new puppets – false hope and cynical promises of change. If someone dares to notice or speak, just label him a communist and hang him in the New York Stock Exchange.

Well, you shoot the world down. It crumbles to the ground. The pyramid collapses and then. You hide the smoking gun, deny what you have done, you know you’d do it all over again.

Well, you broke the world now… and you don’t care how we’ll ever get it back together if at all. Threw us under the bus, and you are laughing at us, as you head off to the scavenger’s ball.

By Verlon Gates






I met this girl the other day,
A girl who took my breath away,
And through her eyes I saw her soul,
It’s beautiful, but is not whole,
And in my mind I tried to find,
A way for her to see her “shine”,
To open her eyes to what I saw,
And somehow get her heart to thaw,
She hides behind the masks of a clown,
Anything just to hide that frown,
She hates herself but does not know why,
She’s in so much pain it makes me cry,
For if she could only see what I see,
She could finally let go and be free,
We could live a life of happiness and love,
A life that’s blessed from God above,
But in my disdain I wake to see,
She must first love herself before she can me,
I have given and given and bared my soul,
But her self hatred has taken its toll
I met this girl the other day,
A girl who took my breath away…forever.

By Ryan Mita