The Poetry Marathon

What if

What if

What if I was Normal?

Well

We know

We know

We know I’m not Normal.

No one normal asks

What if they were Normal?

Because

They are

They are

They are boring.

Normal people let the world shape them

But

What if

What if

What if they weren’t Normal?

We could all shape the world.

Outside the car

Inside the water

I see a ladder to nowhere.

If I could climb it,

do you think I could find

Where nowhere truly is?

Could I curl up in nowhere

And rest at last

Away from those who hurt me?

Does nowhere have an edge,

A circumference where it ends,

And could I truly find its middle?

I would love to just enjoy myself

Living there with my thoughts.

Maybe I could finally untangle them

Weed out the bad ones and make them good?

“Stop touching the glass, it’ll get dirty.”

My thoughts interrupted as mom keeps driving

We got a green light…

And the heart strains against its bonds

Step by singular step

A gaited pace in brambles whack

The blood pressure meeting

The rhythm of the unknown

Destinations approach and recede behind

As an attempt is made goloberally

To hide the times when we stood still

And meet in honest filial harmony

A falter unhalted could end us

Turning from progress to a tumble

Of cubonic sorrow.

To stand still would end us.

definitions:

Goloberally: a word meaning within the entirety of the self as propelled by the brain in the subconscious.

Cubonic: of or pertaining to a tragic instance that raises more questions than it answers, ie: cubone’s pokedex entry is sad but makes you question the honesty of the writer as multiple cubones exist and you can see my living ditto has no skull that it’s cubone child could wear.

I never feel well when I should

I’m drowning above the ocean

And deaf in the silence of my home

The only time I feel ok

Is as arbitrary as my pain

An umbrella in the bath tub,

With my luck it might rain

Headphones without sound

To drown the screaming out

And too many empty decorative things

To distract the dust mites.

You may think it’s strange but this is how I sleep at night.

I finally got a shovel (unhaunted)

2 dig as deep as I wanted

And permits for the land

Which I’d researched 4 beforehand.

I finally broke the earth,

Dug 6 feet down (for what it’s worth)

Thought about stopping to grab a ladder

But nah, I kept digging and couldn’t be gladder.

8 feet down I struck solid

An iron tube with a dated lid

And inside 10 items sealed

Over 9 hundred years ago

It seemed suspect in a country founded

Less than 7 months prior

And iron only began

Being processed and manufactured

5 weeks ago.

I opened it eagerly

Not bothering to climb out.

Immediately apparent were 3 facts.

A few of the items had disintegrated upon contact with air

A few glowed a sickly green

Leaving me with 1 item to pick up safely.

A cube made of clear solid material

With a chip in the corner

And engraved but unreachable

The word Duck.

I heard the barrel click as I turned it over

And the fight for my life began.

I wanted to journey,

across the hills and mountains,

to lands untold,

to futures gold,

but the hills said no.

I wanted to travel,

across the craggy peaks and dipping valleys,

back to the wind,

at fortune’s whim,

but the peaks said no.

I wanted to venture,

into caves so dark I’d need a longer lamp,

where history spelled,

and untouched filled,

the land beneath earth’s dome,

but the lamp said no.

So I got a new lamp,

it said no as well,

and I felt my way down blind.

One day

Someone will read this story

And wonder

What the hell happened here?

One day

They’ll reach Chapter 8

And say

“It can’t possibly get worse than this.”

One day

They’ll put the story down in disgust.

They’ll say

“Didn’t they consider dropping this altogether?”

One day

They will give up on me

My story

And go on with theirs, forgetting it.

But one day

Someone will pick up my story

And they’ll say

“I am amazed they made it this far.”

And one day

They will reach the end of my story

They’ll say

“I’m glad I stuck it out to the end.”

And

If that’s you, I owe you a drink.

“If that’s you, I owe you a drink.” Is the last line in the book Half Sick of Shadows by Laura Seabastian.

Overgrown

A pond with no fish in it

A bridge

To things you may regret

Rust

The city in shambles

Overgrown

Choked by life

Ignored in part by spite

Waiting

Dull yet vibrant.

I’ll fall for you, full circle

Let your voice encircle me

A litany

If there’s a God they’ll be hearing me

Sing your praises with my heart

silently

Too shy to brag but I’m proud of you

It’s true.

Sometimes I don’t know what I’m gonna do

But

I’ll fall for you, full circle

An endless loop or just 3 seconds

Momentarily

Wondering what you like to do

I consider what I’d do if you’re ever through

Scarily

My diagnosis like a death sentence

Yet

Even if the world forgets

I’ll fall for you, full circle

Buy your merch, drop a link,

Parasocial

You don’t know me, yet I’ll still sink

Clip that

Million views, pick and choose

Increasing revenues

Concerned for your health as we blow it up,

full glow up

And I wonder if you’ll ever know

It’s

All for you, full circle

Reflections are never quite right,

Some make things better

Some are too bright.

Reflections are never quite right.

Some show too little

Some absorb too much light

But Reflections can never be right.

already they’re  backwards

Already they’re twisted.

Reflections are never quite right.

Some point out flaws

Some cause us fright

But they are never quite right.

Some hide the darkness we need to see

Some eat the stars at night.

But no, reflections are never quite right.

So why limit yourself to reflections

When you can shine oh so bright?

If you limit yourself to reflections

You can never be right.