The Poetry Marathon

More like a hard day’s year

with almost 120,000 gone,

the rest of us feel barely alive ourselves

whether it’s gratifying or just plain irksome.

where do we go from here?

picks ourselves up, dust ourselves off and just pretend everything’s hunky dory.

maybe you’ll meet a girl or your end.

it’s so easy to look on the bright side when it’s the only one in existence and vice versa.

but somehow we’ve ended up in a bile of our own creation that’s just begging to boil over the top.

i refuse to sit here and tell you the light at the end of the tunnel is just days away from shining down on us but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t reach for it.

because we will bask in the warm glow of perspicacity.

it’s only a matter of time.

and as so many voices across the world cry out in anguish and hope,

the rest of us just have one simple question: when exactly does the winning

start?

I still remember the first time i considered it.

i had dissolved into the back seat of the bus and there you were

just a few rows up

illuminating all of reality with that golden smile

nullifying the beauty of everything else in existence.

and there i was

wishing i had met you long before the luckiest bastard on the face of the planet took you off the market

trying to drown myself in a tidal wave of serenity

imagining all the golden years we’d have together before the cruel mistress of mortality took you from me

your perfectly-woven golden hair basking in the sunlight as they sealed you in and lowered you into that plot.

i’d jump in right after you and spend the rest of time in eternal bliss.

that’s the sheer truth of it all.

i won’t spend the rest of eternity waiting for superman,

just for you

I’m okay with it, at least that’s the story

i’m committed to writing. i’ve made peace with whatever is to become of me, of us, of the entire planet.

that’s why you won’t see me twist or hear me shout, at least

not in the context in which i used to.

because i’ve had my fill of twists. at this point, i’ve done it more than all the pretzels in the world combined. and i’ve shouted more times than

can be recorded in human history. and you know where it’s gotten me? absolutely

nowhere. your car is still on fire and the extinguisher is nowhere to be found. the quicksand continues to pull you

down and there are no branches in sight.

you’re buried alive and all shovels have ceased to exist.

good thing you come with a handle

Because it’ll mean something if only for a few seconds

It may be risky but it’ll all be worth it when adrenaline consumes you

as you plummet back to the earth at upwards of 80mph.

and when you reach the bottom,

you’ll have no qualms about making out with the soil because at the

end of the day,

peace

love and

understanding is all you have left

Even if it’s imperceptible to both of you.

Even if it’s not the way in which you would have preferred to be loved,

it’s still better than the full force of a bus colliding on impact

waiting for you to dig your head out the sand.

when i was younger, i thought i neither wanted nor needed it

but then i realized it’s like a jetpack. it may not be essential for survival

but it’s still a pretty awesome thing to possess.

Even though you can’t.

Despite the fact that you and I will retire to our separate corners as you swim away and leave the lighthouse devoid of illumination.

And I know it’s not what it could be but the way

it ended was the fault of redaction.

I wish you the best and I know that street goes both ways

so don’t be a stranger in a world that knows you better than you know yourself.

So many of us are too engulfed in our own bubble of constriction to actually

take the time to read it. As the darkness begins to fade into the abyss,

you’ll see firsthand what makes your mor(t)ality the most valuable weapon

in your arsenal. With nothing left to lose, fear becomes an

abstract notion steeped in mythology. You’ll stop at nothing to win

in a game that’s long since been over. Persist, fight, make it worth

your while. Otherwise, you’ll suffocate on your own ennui

and fade into the background of oblivion. This is why we exist

and this is the reason we’ll never succumb to the

adversity fueled by false perceptions. You are

the master of your future and this is where

you begin to write it. Just make sure

there are no typos.

It truly is the inception of everything.

A thousand miles and poles apart make all the difference in the world.

I take assurance in the fact that I’ll never be without the serenity of

your essence. We sit on the edge of the world where your conflicting

existences collide into the dark. The truth lies far beneath the

war-torn surface. They’ve just been too buried in their own

drowned existence to grab a shovel. Make it to the end

and hope for the sweet release. It’s much more

satisfying than you might think.

I don’t think I’ll ever understand the sick, twisted mentality that can permeate

our society like cancerous growth. So many of us die in shame after living an

entire life in a false perception of dignity. They try and push their own false convictions of morality

on others despite the fact that it doesn’t affect them in the slightest.

They don’t understand the depths of the socratic paradox

as it pertains to their own philosophical shame. But as they

rise, so do they fall. They’ll always be there to try and

perpetuate the travesty that is injustice and we’ll

always be there to thwart them, to find yet another

way to die in a world that already kicked the

bucket.

What’s your game? Do you like to carry things around in Texas?

Do you get a kick out of poking people? Maybe you’re just a Jack

with a dark skin color. Or perhaps you’re a wheel man?

Regardless of the context, you’re better off steering clear.

You’re only fighting a losing battle.