The Poetry Marathon

Valiantly did the little warrior stride

across the mat full of pride

til he was immediately put on his side

A wound he could not hide.

The second round begun

Renewed, not going to run

Shot out like a bullet from a gun

This match, the little warrior won.

The little warrior, victory in hand

Followed by a mighty cheering band

Approaches the old warrior who smiles and stands

“Now go little warrior, and do it again.”

`

I spit your pills out

like bullets

I hope they hurt

bouncing off your face

red, black, purple

and it’s all the fucking same

depressing little theories

life: a little game

You poisoned me for a moment

trying to force the pills in again

bring your fingers a little closer

I’ll take all ten.

Let us, Let us

Fall on the mat floor grasping, twirling in a fashion but controlled, reaching for arm and ankle.

To submit the body, to free the soul.

Let us, Let us

Sprawl against takedowns or plant a knee on the ground, pushing and sweeping out.

To fell our demons, to not let them take us down.

Let us, let us

Not tap early, but fight earnest and true, to the point where even joint begins to come unglued.

To know our limits, humility imbued.

Let us, let us

Forget the belt and stripe, let it fall away even inside, show up only because its right.

To remove the idea of failure, from even the deepest parts of our mind.

Let us, Let us.

Roll and learn for the rest of time.

Professor Helio Please

Even if we start on our knees

Have us roll hard to please

(and)

Honor your legacy

(by)

Ruining these gis.

Power’d down, no hope to shrimp

Comes down heavy, the crash of a blimp

Gi’d arms go in, carotid crimped

Gurgle for breath, body goes limp

Hi,

I’m Jarrod. I primarily write fiction, but I’ve also dabbled in poetry. It’s always been present in my writing, in some form or another. I find that sentences themselves sound much better with a little poetic inspiration (after all who doesn’t love alliteration?).

In 2017, I graduated with a BFA in Writing from the Savannah College of Art and Design. While there, I was part of a poetry club. We called this little club ‘Poets with Passion’ and though poets came and went it was mostly the club president and I (an amazing writer we’ll just call IJ) attempting really poor and very loud slam poetry at various venues in Atlanta. Looking back, I realize the looks of surprise were more from people being shocked at the volume and affectation than the effectiveness of my prose.

I signed up for the Poetry Marathon because, to be honest, I’ve kind of abandoned poetry. I miss writing/performing it, and while I don’t miss the open-mic yelling, I do miss the emotion.

I’m looking for a car-battery-hooked-to-nipples type of jump start, so I think this will be perfect. I hope to get a lot of writing done and to run across a word or sentence, some bit of writing that reminds me of why I cared about poetry in the first place.

See you on the other side, ever-enduring word cadets.