No Title (Chase Fontenot-Lafayette, LA)

I noticed my chipped tooth when I woke this morning.
Shows the sad fucking truth 
that I haven’t smiled in a fortnight.
Porch light left on, collared carelessness left it all desolate
Couldn’t process my expression to possess all my recklessness

Whatever, I don’t care
Call me a fucking sinner
Quick to throw salt bitch 
Because you were a born winner?
I’m still eating tv dinners
with my loser friends so
try catch up to me
fucking bully, part of the party
that sucks up on his knees
while trees burn, heads turn
you always learn in the end
its not about your fucking sins
its what you do with them

Crass classy cats pitying the glassy pupil pill poppers
They are the show stoppers, globetrotters, popular if hot or cold
I'm breaking the mold, common stories aren't reported that escort
Simple lyricists to spread fear into the inquisitors, insane with no visitors
By the time I hit the hill and have to sip my last meal and take baby Advil 

Fuck that, I'll climb over the ant hill and order a raw steak with a milkshake to give you fucking headache
And to prove your silver spoon 
That you hold so fucking dear
Is only a fast car in your backyard 
With no way to steer

Comments

Come Hither (Annette Redmond Walters - Lafayette, LA)

I meant it not this way but the tears just flow and my makeup smearing all the more, leaving behind that familiar filthy residue. I may have begun to drive myself away, dragging you down as well. But it's done, I've flipped the switch and now it's dark once more. How painful is the music to my ears, I can't stand to be alone in it, yet here I am again. I pray you fly back and safely and warmly to me, though I fear I've dug the grave too deeply. As the dirt shifts within my soul, I choke on those loving words I'd meant for you. All the fragments of light I see becoming smaller and I wish to be near you in your embrace that might make me feel the warmth I'm missing. And in reality, I doubt I'd breathe another breath without you. So come hither and quickly soothe my dying heart, you are the only cure I know. I cry and cry again, come hither to heal and love me. Come hither and help me dry my tears.

Let That Fucker Burn (John Chenvert - Napoleonville, LA)

Let that fucker burn. Let the fire crackle like the whips once did— like bone meeting leather, like screams swallowed by the trees. Let the white columns crumble to ash. Not as tragedy— but as truth, unearthing itself from beneath generations of silence. Nottoway is not a mansion. It’s a mausoleum. A lie carved in stone to honor the hands that held the whip, not the backs that bore it. They called it the “White Castle.” A place of beauty. A place for weddings, for photo ops, for pretending that horror can be made elegant if the curtains match the guilt. But no paint can cover what happened there. Blood doesn’t wash out with white linens. And pain doesn’t forget just because you renamed it history. I’m not Black. And I won’t pretend to carry that weight. But I also won’t ignore it. My people—the Guanches—were taken too. Our language silenced. Our land stolen. Our names nearly erased. So yes, I know colonization. Yes, I know what it means to be disappeared. But I also know this— my skin ...

Lunatic (Lily Lechler - New Orleans, LA)

“Lunacy” comes from the moon, Who cycles through brilliance and darkness Bipolarity’s patterns are not so easily assumed Opposites not so well harnessed Who cycles through brilliance and darkness? The girl who sits in bed, wrestling with Opposites. Not so well harnessed As she thought, her brain gives reason the slip The girl who sits in bed, wrestling with Her body, depressed, her thoughts manic. As she thought, her brain gave reason the slip And gives the gift of life in a dreamlike panic. Her body depressed her thoughts. Manic Lunacy comes from the moon And gives the gift of life in a dreamlike panic Bipolarity’s patterns are not so easily assumed

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