Richmond, VA

Calling all Artists

The Ghost of Poe | Artist: Unknown | Location: Richmond, VA

“Calling all Artists”

A poem and call to action by Olivia Armanini, 2017
Published with permission from the author.

Define, slang, morph, spit, change, edit,
scribble, mark, draw, write

This is the need

This is the
pressure to
fulfill the

And we artists never know if it is
one of fate or free-will…so…we

Define, slang, morph, spit, change, edit,
scribble, mark, draw, and write until we realize

this craft is not dark magic

our expressions are not taboo.

We are not wizards and witches making new
worlds. NO. We are witches and wizards
bringing attention to what is already here.

Young scribe,
your only job is to
acknowledge that your hand fits perfectly
around the feathered pen.

Olivia Armanini is a poet from New Orleans. She is a poet of Spoken Word and Typewriter Prose studying English at Southeastern Louisiana University. Olivia has authored two collections of poetry: “I Took Over Pan’s Shift Three World’s Ago” and “Prophetic Warings: A Collection of Truth From Science to Stardust.” The collection titled “Prophetic Warnings:” is available on Amazon. Follow her on instagram @poems_by_olive to collaborate for heART and see words that reestablish the ordinary.

Shine, Perishing Republic

Artist: ROA  |  Location: 1501 W. Main St., Richmond, VA

Artist: ROA | Location: 1501 W. Main St., Richmond, VA

Shine, Perishing Republic

A poem by Robinson Jeffers, 1925

While this America settles in the mould of its vulgarity, heavily thickening to empire

And protest, only a bubble in the molten mass, pops and sighs out, and the mass hardens,

I sadly smiling remember that the flower fades to make fruit, the fruit rots to make earth.

Out of the mother; and through the spring exultances, ripeness and decadence; and home to the mother.

You making haste haste on decay: not blameworthy; life is good, be it stubbornly long or suddenly

A mortal splendor: meteors are not needed less than mountains: shine, perishing republic.

But for my children, I would have them keep their distance from the thickening center; corruption

Never has been compulsory, when the cities lie at the monster’s feet there are left the mountains.

And boys, be in nothing so moderate as in love of man, a clever servant, insufferable master.

There is the trap that catches noblest spirits, that caught–they say– God, when he walked on earth.