The Poetry Marathon

I used to press four wheels under one board on the roads on DC

Leaning on my toes to move left then leaning towards my heels to move right

I used to make waves downhill on the pavement

Seeking stimulation in falling

Now, here

In Charlotte

I ride circles around the curving parking lot of my apartment complex

Searching for the same kind of stimulation

As a budding youth I sought stimulation in the auditory and the visual and the consumable

sitting still, soaking in the digital light of the television

Or giving myself up to the sonic awe of music

Or developing a dependence on caffeinated syrup and sugar

As I’ve grown I’ve noticed that

This need to be stimulated exists in everyone

From the rebel to the soldier

From the Romantic to the cheater to the homewrecker

From the drug dealer to the drug addict

From birth from the grave

Isn’t it strange how our own vessels, our own worlds, can become not enough?

And when we seek to push past that, that’s still most likely what remains, not enough

When the energy clicks right

There’s less of a reason to leave your door closed in the morning

There’s more of a reason to fraternize in the common area

There’s a stronger link to the world

Wake, eat, dress, leave, do,

fill or kill time, whichever,

just know, it comes back

You’re fried, you’re late, you’re last

only an hour behind, don’t wait! there’s still a chance

to step on your words, and dash

to close the distance between where you are and where the goal starts

24-hours worth of..

spontaneous, uncertain, sweat-causing half vocabulary

that bump around in that skull of yours, like a visual masterpiece

turned into lumpy soup

Daring you, to grab, to rinse, to unfold, and fit the pieces back the way you saw them

stepping on your words, like money dropped on the ground

you’re fried because you stayed up way to late, and now you’re last

this isn’t new

but what is news is that epiphany that re-emerges that I guess you re-remember every time this happens

yeah you’re last

but only to yourself

like in other parts of life, the other participants don’t matter

as long as you understand that the goal, and where it starts

will always be with the person you see your self wanting to be

so get up, get your engine running, you set a goal for today

24 poems in 24 hours, so what you’re a little late

arise, create, expand

I am very excited to be doing this marathon, exhausted and without sleep, but excited non the less