The Poetry Marathon

A world between worlds,

encapsulated in so many films & series

over the years.

But what does it mean to so many people?

Hope

pleasure

joy

community.

That’s how we measure the worth of anything,

by what the huddled masses have to say,

a place like no other.

It’s where our imaginations come to life & nothing

is out of the realm of possibility.

Whether hunting down criminals in a depraved

metropolis or seeking buried treasure in the

jungles of the galapagos,

there’s a little something for everybody.

It’s a blank canvas for artists to bring their visions to life

where anyone can get in on the action.

That’s why you love it.

You’re always on the lookout for the next scorcese or

fincher.

& when these craftsmen are able to bring their

masterpieces to the cinema,

there’s no better experience on the entire planet.

There she was lying on the shore washed

up with the rest of the tide

& all I could do

was pound on

the

glass, trying

to save her from the

tsunami beating her down

waiting to pounce & take her away.

Those were different days

when all we ever wanted was

to feel wanted.

& somehow we were,

even if we couldn’t see it.

I still remember when it all

came crashing down.

It was the most painful thing but

soon the hands began moving.

Before long, it had dissipated into

oblivion & suddenly light began returning

in the oddest way.

That was the day I realized I was never lost;

I just had yet to be found.

You’ll know when he comes.

The smell of cherry cola will be

prevalent & the violins will turn it

up to eleven.

There’s also the distinct possibility you’ll

see a disfigured face or mask in the pale

moonlight

staring at you from across the street

or through the trees in the woods.

You might also notice a machete or other

weapon of choice dangling from his

grotesque, misshapen hands.

Then slowly he’ll begin making a beeline for you

never too fast

& you’ll try to make a break for it before inevitably

tripping on a root, fallen branch or whatnot.

Then he’ll raise up his (insert weapon here)

& strike.

Finally, you’ll sit up in bed,

regain your faculties & thank the universe

you’re not laurie strode.

Ubiquity is the name of the game.

It seems no matter how hard you try,

you never can seem to escape it.

These days, it seems like nowhere is safe.

Supermarkets, churches, pretty much anywhere

people congregate.

The one disease for which we just can’t seem to

synthesize a cure.

The onus is on us to ensure we work together to

put a stop to it

once & for all

no matter what it takes

or else the next casualty will be your soul.

We were so young,

little pups ready to begin the rest of their lives

huddled under a bridge for comfort.

Then one day, the hurricane came &

cast us all asunder,

something no one could have foreseen.

It took years to come to terms with the schism

but it made it all the more cathartic in the end.

I didn’t know how to live.

It just seemed so foreign

& then she came along & gave me

a refresher

& now I think I’m ready to get back to those

old blue jeans

wherever they make take me.

I’ve been on so many times.

You name it.

Theme parks, sporting events,

the occasional spartan battle.

But none of it’s quite the same without you.

We used to paint the town red & pull

all-nighters in the name of mankind.

For close to four years, the nights were

ours.

Now it all just feels so fruitless

without you

but I know we’ll be back someday;

it’s only a matter of space.

I never got into it that much

truth be told.

It’s all subjective anyway.

Some aren’t even trying,

just splash a bucket of mixed-up paints

onto a canvas & call it a day.

But the ones with actual aptitude

keep it alive; their passion for their craft is

what makes it all worthwhile & they are the ones

who will continue provoking thoughts long after

the rest of us have come & gone.

Maybe that’s all it can do but

then again

maybe that’s all it needs to do.

It runs all the way through to the other side of the world.

I don’t go down there a lot;

there’s not much left but every now and then,

you just might catch a glimpse of hope (although it is quite adept at hiding).

I’ve always had a complicated relationship with it.

When’s it going to be my turn?

Some people think about it until it drives them insane

but I have more cogent matters to attend to right now.

So much mystery behind it &

a lot that doesn’t add up but maybe it doesn’t

need to. Maybe it’s not defined by descartes or

kierkegaard or some higher power that only cares about itself.

Maybe the anomaly is part of its charm.

When all is said and done, I’m ready for what’s waiting for

me down there. Walk until you can’t move anymore & then

accept your fate.

When’s it going to be my turn?