The Poetry Marathon

Hang your head, the preacher man said.
There is a hole, within your soul,
and, you better fix it, before you’re dead.

Amen, the choir sang. Amen, the crowd chanted.
Amen, the church bells rang. Amen, the sinners recanted.

Holy Rolling comes hard to me.
I just don’t appreciate the show.
Its got the feel of a ponzi scheme.
Its like swimming sideways,
whether up or down the stream

Speaking Tongues makes me wonder
who’s talking, who’s listening and why.
I grasp the point, I hear their plea.
I even try to make some sense,
but sorry, it’s still all Greek to me

Hang your head, the preacher lady said.
There is a rip, deep within your heart,
and, you need mend it afore the raptures start

Amen, the choir sang. Amen, the crowd chanted.
Amen, the church bells rang. Amen, the sinners recanted.

Bible Verses are head scratching lines,
as my mind begets to wandering.
They seem to have them canned, in a jar,
waiting for some righteous opportunity,
but literal parables are simply too bizarre

Damn You to hell I’ve oft been told
the yellow venom slick within their veins.
It reminds me much of the golden fleece
and the wolf and the lamb and the ruse,
if they truly cared, perhaps the word to use is peace

Lift your head, the universe said.
You are a shining star and as you carry your scar,
THEY talk of god, yet, that’s what YOU are.

Amen, the cosmos sang. Amen, the Mother chanted.
Amen, the wisdom rang. Amen, the idolaters recanted.

Manifest the buoyancy of breath beyond time,
beyond the whispers of those before and those not quite yet.
A place where substance originates as shadow
and symbols are dismantled within the tears of mankind.
The place where light is not luminescence but an absence of dark
and darkness is not the omission of light but the abscission of hope.

Be faithful to the ways of elders, as you forge new entries,
new boundaries unknown to the prior guardians of youth,
their guidance is structural not judgment, nor, ideology.
My father broke away from his father, as I broke away from him,
to assess a world new to my being and half-hidden to all fathers.
Truth lies among unseen connections, yet, it remains the grand illusion

Do not seek yourself within others, more likely, they are within you,
within your projection of their beings broadcast into the ether,
reflected and bent throughout on invisible curvatures of egotism.
Beware the prisons of logic and the dichotomy of breathing life,
in minutiae is seen quilted patterns of thought appearing as truth
disregarding the myriad fractal illustrations creating existence.

Living is seen as movement and the allusive direction of motion,
as all universal structures hurtle toward destruction, man survives
in isolation, a figment of his imagination and righteousness.
Failing the evidence of nothing, voids become bloated deceptions,
inducing belonging and camaraderie with the unexplainable
through threaded strings of physics and god(s) and self-ignorance.

Living is seen as movement, and, love, the peace of stillness,
borne of the heart in visceral exultation, affecting its possession
Nothing is possessed; There is nothing to possess; All is nothing.
Within nonexistence resides the beauty and ability of sight.
Within our nihilistic blindness, light mingles with the darkness of space,
and, we belong to all things, in all ways, without self’s pretensions.

We are vessels re-purposed to receive the sediments of presence,
temporary shelters and feeding mechanisms for creatures
and entities and mysteryial magics to hold for moments, then release
The relinquishment is love, the acquisition is life, knowing is peace.
I am a being only through thought, for which there is no cure,
yet, my being obfuscates thought, mimicking things more tangible

I am the wind, an invisible force and energy, constructed of whispering
I am the oceans, a collection of billions of particles casually assembled
I am fire, endlessly consuming the essence of life’s sustenance to survive
I am man, the consummation of the Mother and the Father, transcending
Me, the nothing to myself, and, the everything to those things about me
Me, the treacherous enemy of peace, and, the devoutest seeker of its caress

blue stars dance with god and kin
helping people believe,
on the morrow, it may begin
They live the night
in the scarlet of his morn
and progress through the years
forgetting to be born
How silly sounding we mortals be
as we offer wants
in lieu of plea

Good evening, dear friend.

Had a Blue jay come and yatter to me tonight.
Odd because there haven’t been many Blue Jays around here,
in general, and none recently.
And, it was dusk, almost evening, which is a stranger time for its visit.
Kept drawing attention to itself until I answered
and had the little conversation.
Won’t say what I talked about yet but it was all good
and quite satisfying to state out loud.
Hope all is going well for you, and, your various projects.
You’re in my mind, thoughts, and verbalizations lately.
Soon, my friend.

I possess no answers
I carry only questions,
but not near many enough,
nor, any that are too close to the truth.

I will not lead
I am not a leader,
but I will walk a certain path
and you may choose
to turn right or left,
or, you may stay where you are,
or, come along with me.
However, returning is never an option.

We will talk along the way,
sharing ourselves,
or, those things that we can,
or, that we allow ourselves
Sometimes the truth
Sometimes not
Sometimes it won’t really matter,
it may be what we wish were true,
which is nearly the same

Others may join us.
Many. Though most, will not
Some of those may despise us,
or, wear the green shrouds of envy,
and we all will depart
before we understand why.

I will follow you, for a way, if you wish
If you understand life’s aloneness
and the need for each to find their way.
We swirl about in chaos,
thinking there is a way unknown to us
You know your direction
and I know my path leads somewhere else

she came with accessories,
baubles actually
and a blue-striped-green swirly sash.
her smile spoke,
you don’t know me yet
but you should.
Yet, I sat
silent to the corner, wondering,
were those her eyes,
or, contacts made to match her skirt.
They roamed about,
scanning anything stationary,
things moving were allowed to pass by
nearly unnoticed.
Perhaps my stillness caught her eye,
or, perhaps the smile that she discovered,
sitting slightly above the rim
of crystal filled with Chardonnay.
The parade of suitors made her laugh,
more a chuckle of pretense,
mingled with partial disinterest.
The moment of truth arrived.
Was my mind filled with delusion,
too much wine, or,
some concoction of appropriate bravado.
I’ll never know for sure.
As she approached the table,
and, the others fell aside abruptly discarded,
she asked if my dance card was full.
I looked at my folded napkin.
I reached for the pen in my jacket pocket.
No, but I was waiting to write in your name.
Kelly.
It’s full now.
We never retrieved the scribbled paper,
nor, the pen I left behind.
Neither seemed important,
but the music was mutually inspiring,
our movements impeccable,
and there was nothing else that mattered much.
By the way, I was wearing a white brush linen suit,
a dark brown t-shirt underneath,
brown tassel loafers,
and more pretension than I anticipated.
Male baubles, of sorts, I suppose.
The couple left, with others watching,
both feeling special within themselves.
We didn’t last long,
but what a week
We weren’t really looking
but found the things we seek

I drew the lines from memory,
tactile impressions etched in hours, days of fingertips tracing,
longing to navigate the depth of her solution,
lost within the maze of replication and ink and flesh
She claimed her birthright of goddess
and I allowed her my admiration without hesitation
Inside the heart of the nurturer being
Outside the marvel of the world’s innate complexities
Warrior to Warrior, Soul to Vessel, Vessel to Soul
Salient spirits dancing in flesh and smoke rising in voice
spoken only in silent reflection and loving touch
Answers arriving before questions
Questions whispered on gathering breeze
We lay, basking in the glow of carnality, drawing lines,
aware the all we feel, imperative to relearn

Barricuda cruising
on the street
Radio blaring
Motown beat
Streetlights flashing
got the speed
She’s beside me
smoking weed
Dancing wiggly
on the bucket
Slow down baby
I say fuck it
Wheeling hungry
asphalt road
Sipping whiskey
taste the toad
Back seat spanky
mutual fun
Late night craving
we meet the sun
Took her home
called a creep
Kissed her softly
home to sleep
Two days later
she was dead
Took some pills
fucked her head
Took some more
stopped her breath
They never called
about her death
why’d she do it
i often asked
i loved her deeply
now it’s past
my heart was broken
not to mend
I never knew
a life to end
Was it my fault
was it hers
or, her parents
was it yours
Does it matter
life went on
Does it matter
now she’s gone

If I were to sometime see you dance, I know my heart would sing,
perhaps once the circumstance, betwixt between and everything
Never once have I thought it through, but now the ends in sight
You creating the maid mist’s view and me, the wandering knight
Some say its better left in dreams, but nothing is just what it seems

The dream to you it may seem small, but certain magic enables all
From prior lives I know you well but have never seen you swirl
I’d love to share the forest floor with you and join you in a twirl
To float about with smoke and sky, to use the heavens as our swing
If I were to sometime see you dance, I know my heart would sing

Our left hands clasped in firm embrace
     chowilawu, whites use the right to show disarmament
     we use the left because it is closest to the heart
Our right hands went to the heart within our chests
     this is your drum, my son, it is your rhythm of life
     it is given to you by the Mother, it is meant to be shared
He leaned forward and touched together our foreheads
     there is a large circled vein surrounding your brain
     it cools and provides your mind sustenance
     it feeds the feeling and empathy receptors in the front
We held this position for several minutes
     the blood is physical, chowilawu, and we have shared it
     it is also energy and as it flows it moves from me to you
     it has become a closed loop circle between us
     the Mother provides us ways and we must be aware
     the heart is blood and flow and oxygen and so much more
     or, you can merely show another that you are unarmed
We chuckled together as we shared our greeting