In the time it took to write this poem the following things occurred:
A mother cried for her son whose been missing since October,
An alcoholic relapsed after five years of being sober
A teen boy jumped down sixty feet to hit the concrete street,
A woman went hungry for a week so that her kids could eat
A man drowned attempting to save a sinking stranger’s life
A lonely old man finally fell asleep and joined his wife
A young lady caught malaria working for an NGO in Nigeria
Many people died fighting for political justice in Syria
A young boy donated his birthday money to charity
A teenage girl realized some things are more important than popularity
A baby sparked a chain reaction of explosive laughter
A wonderful couple just started their happily ever after
You see, the world isn’t all that bad.
There are sparkles amidst the darkness;
Diamonds deep down underground in the dark, dank dirt,
Gems and gold that glimmer in the cold, hard earth,
Specks of light lighting up existence,
Like the twinkle twinkle of little stars
Or the human stars that inspire us to shoot for their cosmological counterparts.
Those shining dots that cross the “T” and dot the “I” in the word resistance
Resisting the darkness’ consensus, undermining the shade’s supremacy.
And if darkness doesn’t even dominate at night,
Imagine the joy of seeing the sun’s first light.
Cause every night sky is followed by a bright sky,
As the dawn destroys the dictatorship of darkness.
Hold on to the hope that someday the sun will shine.
As the horizon becomes the fight’s front line
As the sun rises above, hatred is being pushed back by love
Violence is being conquered by the white dove of peace
You see, in the end, evil doesn’t stand a chance.
I’m not naïve,
I know our world is inhabited by hurt and pain,
But hurt and pain don’t hold the reins,
Evil won’t win this game of Life.
Struggle and Strife might struggle and strive
But they will never overcome a person fully alive.
Program hope into your hard drive,
So you know how to survive even if life takes a nose dive.
At times the dark night might tempt us to despair
But the light of hope helps us carry on,
So bring it with you, like your carry-on luggage.
Sometimes it seems like the darkness will last forever,
Like the only light is sight is ten thousand miles away,
But light can travel that far in less than a second.
Sometimes healing can happen in a heartbeat,
A broken heart made whole in a hurry.
Just have hope, and don’t worry
Cause no matter how dark your surroundings,
Light might be just around the corner.
Sometimes it seems like Evil has stacked the deck,
That no matter how fast you run, it’s still breathing down your neck
You see, Evil is a natural sprinter
Suddenly it springs into action, surprising you with its speed,
But don’t surrender; cause Evil is not a long distance runner.
Darkness has no stamina so don’t stop running.
Cause soon enough it will get too tired to keep up,
And if you endure, eventually you will leave evil in the dust,
Just keep running, cause someday soon the sunrise will send the darkness away
Don’t give up: Persevere until you see the light of day
And in the words of the wise Samwise Gamgee,
“It's only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass.
A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer.”
Bruce Narbaitz "Pretty new to the Spoken Word community, Bruce Narbaitz (20 years old) has quickly established a name for himself. On his first season at Ottawa's Capital Slam, Bruce fought his way to the finals and onto the team. The Capital Slam team will be competing against other Spoken Word poetry teams from across Canada in October. Bruce has a large theatre background, being the designated family artsy fartsy. Though theatre was his main artistic passion, Bruce also grew up writing short stories. In the past couple of years, writing has eclipsed theatre as his preferred art form. Spoken Word poetry, a beautiful combination of both theatre and writing, has powerfully captivated Bruce’s imagination."
Poetry
Crusade
Salim Gold
One lover’s lips spill into another’s;
Our two combined thighs bandy up and down;
One flesh confronts and conforms to the next—
Until we’re shouting, organ by organ.
When I breach your castle’s molten marble,
I please you by seizing every treasure;
A large condo with high ceilings and a wall of windows. Spacious, elegant, minimalist. A sparkling late-night skyline. Upstage is a King-sized bed with the mattress leaning halfway off, touching the hardwood floor. A large piece of white fabric is tangled between the bare mattress and the bare box spring. Downstage right is a plush, microsuede sofa and ottoman. Near it, a liquor cabinet and a variety of glasses, flutes, tumblers.
"All of Toronto seemed to have shown up for that awful production!" Phil complained.
"It wasn't so dreadful, was it?" someone asked.
Sybill's eyes lit up, and she almost rose out of her seat to add:
"Yes, and didn't Millie say she saw Christopher Plummer in the lobby?" Everyone turned to her end of the table. This was the first thing she had said since the three couples had arrived from a nearby theatre.
The history of modern art is also the history of the progressive loss of art's audience. Art has increasingly become the concern of the artist and the bafflement of the public.
- Paul Gauguin.
Gwenaël Bélanger
Art
100, rue Blainville Ouest - Gwenaël Bélanger
Thank You
Volunteers for Issue 10
For copy-editing this issue of MTLS thanks:
- Lequanne Collins-Bacchus
- Amanda Tripp
- Claudia Del Balso
Acknowledgement
MTLS is grateful to Jetioluwa Olafimihan (Cotta Red Creative Studio) for her hard work on web development and management.
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