The Poetry Marathon

Empty

restless

present

in the moment

healed from all moments

The movement of his mouth

told more than the truth

and less than the lies

Inject me with a dose

so I may feel

If it hurts

Lonely never felt so good

i may think different

once I see

sight never became dim

And then the sun banished…

Thankful

if this were any ordinary day, I would have fed the negative vibes by now more times than the patient on the couch, only I haven’t been caught yet, lucky me, or maybe lucky you, one of us must have spoken more than the other in order to be on the couch, I want to get there, it couldn’t hurt, I mean all the negative thoughts need some place to go, I’m tired of them living here, I say that and yet I host them, day in and day out, this is embarrassing and scary all in one, the tears aren’t pain right now, they are freedom, I let a million people into my mind, please don’t judge me…

Sometimes i judge myself, this world is so hard to live in, I just want to be me…

Honor

honor is the feeling of doing

she asked me a week ago

do you ever feel as if you aren’t good enough

tonight I ask myself good enough for what

And to hold up to whose standards

i am good enough

i have to be

i would probably drop my pen right now if I weren’t

I hate the compete, I hate it as much as I hate her, I don’t hate her though, I hate what I allowed her to do to my emotions, was I weak, or honestly hurt, what happens to us when we are hurt, it’s like everything we were ever taught makes no sense, or keeps no memory, she hurt me, I want to yell it at the top of my lungs, this pen can’t do that, maybe that’s why I put it down during those years, there was nothing it could leak to the degree of how I felt, I just kept screaming, all along my ink was left out…

Tick tock

midnight almost

strikes

but I’m ready

for the hit

The Golfers Hands
Familiar they formed over mine, I was a little girl, I wanted to be taught, I needed to be able to say, My daddy taught me how to hit, I pulled my arms up and the movement in the air was a terrifying swing, I didn’t know where he had gone, or why he left, I was so past the questions, but the answers rose, I never saw a petal on the course, not one, he loves me he loves me not, he taught me how to stand when I swing, and all I wanted to say was, my daddy taught me how to stand, every bit of that ex that hit me across my face diminished, and the golf ball flew far and the speed was deep, I was running out of waisted years and so I put myself back in the moment, he taught me what to wear and what not to bring, and all I wanted to say was my daddy taught me how to cover my jewels and every 20 dollar bill that folded into my breast, when I was under 25 hit the ground and I was able to blossom, because daddy told me so, he taught me the rules, the fundamental things, pointed out the holes, and all I wanted to say was, my daddy taught me what to do, where to go, and what depth I can handle should I fall in, the golf ball rolled to the right and all I heard him say was “good job” and all I wanted to say was my daddy told me so, my daddy folded my hand under his and I knew the concepts of life, I understood what it felt like to be beneath a man with my cloths on, only a bare hand, his touch was so smooth, I never knew his hands felt this way, I was a little girl in my 30s that day…