Rise Up!
Rise up against the tyranny!
Rise up against the inhumanity!
Rise up against the cacophony!
The alarm bells, jail cells, Gaza strip hotels.
Signal chats, so-called diplomats, miscreant technocrats.
Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses
Give me your trans, your immigrants, your inescapable morasses.
“Give me liberty or give me death!” they cry.
Mistaking freedom for misinformation.
Mistaking DEI for pure white assassination.
Mistaking tariffs for trade relations.
Whatever happened to humanity, empathy, charity?
Whatever happened to fighting on the shores of Normandy?
Rise up against the tyranny!
Rise up against the inhumanity!
Rise up against the cacophony!
We must fight this mad, mad world
We must restore in each other what has been taken
By governments and institutions.
We must collect ourselves and the godforsakens
And go forth from the rubble.
Find ourselves some necessary trouble.
Who will fight for the starving children of the world?
Who will inoculate the poor?
Who will stand up for the rights of disenfranchised girls?
Who will prevent the silencing of the dolls?
Who will grow a pair of balls?
Make America Democratic again.
Rise up I tell you before it’s too great.
Make America Democratic again.
Rise up I tell you before it’s too late.
By Holly Beverly
Holly and her husband raised their two children in Topanga where they have lived for over 25 years. Holly has a passion for storytelling across multiple mediums including poetry and is currently pursuing an MFA in Writing for Children & Young Adults at Vermont College of Fine Arts. She is in progress on two middle grade novels.
Spring Break in the Canopy
It’s the springtime surge in decibel level
after a year-long party deficit
trees erupt with riotous bird song and dirty dancing
~ celebration time, come on ~
~ there’s a party going on right here ~
~ let’s all celebrate and have a good time ~
a bright oriole lands, struts his stuff
so unnaturally yellow in flashy jumpsuit
he belongs under a 1980s disco ball
doing the hustle, mirrors reflecting his golden charm
branches sway suggestively to his john travolta moves
she’s the scrub jay disco queen, tall and proud
sporting shiny blue hot pants over long slim legs
matching turquoise necklace, seductive bobbing tail
boogies to the beat with bold strides in sunray strobes
but releases bad vibes – she will steal what is yours
drowning out the others
rowdy gangs of foul-mouthed lime green parrots descend
looking for trouble, find it, and squabble full-throttle
told to leave, they fly off screeching obnoxiously
flirtations cut short, good looks wasted
two oversized monarch butterflies, striped and striking
flutter in, park gingerly at the flower power bar
bashful they fold their wings, sip cocktails, eyes only for each other
it’s too noisy, not their scene
tipsy on nectar, they float away coupled and blushing
a lizard darts onto the dance floor, smooth and shiny
stops abruptly, looks to see who is watching
and performs ten push-ups, no sweat
avian audience is unimpressed, ignores the imposter
a featherless distant cousin, not their type anyway
drab little brown birds peck at the door to come in
bouncer checks their id and turns them away
they beg and chirp objections until
hawk glides overhead, big stealth dude with authority
and the entire arboreal disco turns silent and still
By Andrea Ehrgott
