The Poetry Marathon

She’s always there for me. I just couldn’t see it sometimes.

Whatever the mission entailed, she fully embraced all the ramifications that accompanied it.

We inverted the world and proved that mortality is only an abstract myth that seeks to hinder you.

It’s why I look forward to the day she returns. I know it can’t be the way it was but I’m ready for whatever comes next.

Maybe it won’t click back into place immediately but don’t expect us to submit to the laws of nature

on anyone’s account. A dynamic duo the likes of which the universe has yet to experience.

The porch light will shine for us upon our effervescent and triumphant return.

Everywhere you go, the man stares at you from afar. The man is indicative of nothing and everything under

the sun. He challenges your perceptions and

warrants complete objectivity. He is well aware of the current state

of affairs and will never hesitate to flaunt it. You could try and interact with him although your mileage may vary as one existence seeps into the next.

The origins of the man are relatively esoteric and obscure but we all know where

he’ll end. I just wish he didn’t bring that firearm with him wherever he goes. His insecurities are apparent all over his skin and yet we know how important he is to our essence.

He was a martyr, an advocate, a hero, a beacon of light, a legacy like no other. Liverpool was his

inception and, from there, things could only go uphill. Despite a less-than-amiable upbringing, he cruised

to success as the invasion began. From a quarryman to

a beatle to his own man, he was the father to two countries and we spent so much time with him. At the park together, we always gave peace a chance, imagined what xanadu would be like and paid homage to the working class heroes as we celebrated the end of war, looking at cloud 9 in the rearview mirror.

December 8th was the shot heard round the pond. Words failed to describe the mass hysteria and utter despair that flowed through the streets day in and day out. The deafening silence was exacerbated only by the lack of recourse reverberating throughout the world. Sometimes, I still go back and read chapter 27 whenever it suits me.

The perpetrator still draws breath, having spent nearly three decades in a state of supermax. Though we can never absolve him, we can still find it in ourselves to offer our forgiveness. It’s exactly the way he would have wanted it.

The backstreets are our eternal home. We’d run through it all like

diamonds in the rough who never knew their full value. I still miss the endless nights

we’d capitulate to our inhibitions and watch the chips fall where they don’t.

The tranquil autumn breeze perfectly complemented our laconic adventures, rolling down hills without regard for the abstract concept known as tomorrow. Then the ground caved in and we were caught on opposite sides. Before long, the schism had torn us apart.

Two days becomes two years as the pages become detached from the calendar. Now we work to make our paths converge once more, knowing all the while it’ll never be the same but still trying to render it as such nonetheless. As the sun sets, we hear a voice whispering over the horizon.

“This city will forever enshrine us in its memory.”

Everything has brought us to this point. You were lost for so many years

and I was too blind to see it. We ran in circles for eternity trying to deny ourselves the pleasure we deemed ourselves unworthy of, our thoughts being our biggest adversary in the unruly war against normality.

We couldn’t tell anyone what it meant because we weren’t even sure ourselves but, once everything coalesced, I knew it was time to begin. There is no obstacle that can stop me, no risk I will not take to rectify who we once were. As the entire universe is my witness, I will never experience an oneiric adventure ever again until we get back to where we once belonged. Lennon would be so proud.

I’m on my second now. My first ended on the sandy shores of an ocean of despair.

Approaching the rocks, a woman stood idly by nursing the wounds of the offspring who recently emerged from obscurity. Think nothing of it and move on.

The shockwaves of existence rattle through your bones as the world stops to let you off. The frigid water engulfs you in a torrent of pain as all the misery comes flooding back to you in one fell swoop. Every word starts running through your head: anguish, purgatory, existential ambiguity.

The laws of nature prevent you from extricating yourself in full force. As you stumble back into your tawdry and ever-so-surreal existence, it becomes all the more apparent you’re not alone in more ways than one. Every step you take is another bullet rattling around in your memory as you make the sweet escape, never looking back on what might have been, not that you’d ever be able to in the first place.

This is where we stand for better or worse and right now maybe that’s the only thing we really need.

I’ve said it before and I’ll repeat it as many times as necessary. We light the

world in so

many ways beyond your comprehension. We remain adrift for much of it but when

we come into shore, the red carpet is already there.

We look inside ourselves and see what’s still functioning. We constantly seek out these

inane obfuscations in the hopes that it will provide some sort of direction or guidance in an otherwise lost existence. We think it’s all lost and then we hear that soothing voice reminding us we still have time.

The whispers of the goldfinger warn us of the impending danger and remind us where we are.

“You’ve suffered sufficiently and won your unwinnable war. Stop pretending your failure is genuine”.

Rest up for the battle ahead. Many victories are won through passivity.

Look across the pond and acknowledge the facade of yourself staring back.

Levity is not the adversary of pure evil you perceive it to be. We stumble through ourselves wondering why so many of us let xenophobia permeate every aspect of their existence as if that were the way to attain enlightenment.

But, Russia, we see you. We acknowledge all aspects of you and we recognize how difficult it must be to live in a region whose reputation has been tainted by the leading narcissist and his goons who seek to destroy anything that threatens their “precious” way of life.

We gaze up at the night lights and remember all those who have been taken from us too soon, those who lost their existence fighting for justice and doing everything in their power to leave the universe just a bit more improved than the condition in which they discovered it.

You may be gone but your sacrifices will never become subjected to the horrors and injustices of evanescence. We know you’re in a better place now and we want to assure you we will continue to fight the good fight and discover what it truly means to be human in a world that constantly tries to make us forget.

The story that started it all. It’s hard to believe it’s been over half a century since

we were goaded into believing the tales of a man who can get any girl he wants simply by flashing his eyes at her

and, despite his womanizing ways, still always somehow manages to get the job done

and prevent the world from falling into disarray. It’s been a long road. Who knows where it will take us? But

I’m excited to see how Craig performs in his swan song as the series moves into its 25th outing in less than a year. I just hope it leaves us shaken, not stirred,