The Poetry Marathon

Welcome home, kid
While you’ve been away I’ve been right here grinding,
Building effigies to long forgotten memories you left behind

Yeah welcome home kid,
The foundation you helped build supports my structure now
Supports the sweat and tears, regret and conquered fears, but I don’t mind

Look, welcome home kid,
This place I’ve built is not some crusty punk squat crash pad
It’s anything but temporary, so if you’re going to be here,
Welcome home,
Not nice to see you but I hope that you’re ok
If you’re down and out and have no other place to stay,
By all means know you’re welcome home.

There was this odd sense of being watched as I walked,
So I shot a glance behind me,

Nothing,

Looked to my left, to my right,

Nothing
Then finally looked above and there he sat,
Perched on gnarled koa branch, staring directly at me,
Unblinking,
Huge black eyes twinkling with arcane wisdom,

Twin pools of the infinite,
An almost mocking look on his white feathered countenance.
In that moment I understood why the tribes hold Owl in such regard,
Why the Hawaiians considered him Amakua,
Why forever he’s been associated with wisdom,
Guarding the portals between this world and the next,
Part bird, part spirit.

His eyes penetrated mine, seeming to gaze past the flesh directly into my consciousness.

We stood there for an eternity, locked in unspoken soul to soul communication
Locked in that hypnogogic state between wakefulness and dream

I lowered my eyes and gave a nod, a gesture of respect,
He stretched his coffee-blossom white wings and silently disappeared into low hanging clouds
Soaring up the slopes of Haleakela.

Mahalo, my Pueo friend,
Aloha…

Oh Miss Low,
I know it’s been a while, but I still recall your silly grin
Still smell the smokey herbal fragrance of your hair and taste of your freckled skin

Still remember that blizzard car ride
When we almost crashed and died
Still remember that same night when your eyes rolled back so far I thought you did

I was just a kid then,
I guess we both were, but you were more mature
You knew how to drive me utterly insane while you remained demure
You played me like a piccolo, Miss Low
And although I don’t regret it
I look back at my ignorance and still feel so pathetic

But what did I expect?
I was high school, you were college
I had brains but you had carnal knowledge
And I get you needed more NOW
But I just wished you’d have acknowledged everything I said to you,
All the times I read in bed to you
That time that I even shed blood for you,
When I got my ass kicked by that that meathead dude

So rude, the way you just pushed me aside
Told me you needed space,
Then I see you a week later with some bourgeois guy in his fancy ride
And I felt a little piece of myself die

But I’m done crying

Good bye

The iron fist’s grip is slipping and arthritic
Rusted and soon to be obsolete
Or at least less relevant
Say the idealists

Soon all forms of authority will be eclipsed
When consciousness is digitized and exists in space that’s infinite

This analog wetware meat vessel seems a bit limited
But without physical limitations, what is it that makes us human?

We’ve opened Pandora’s encrypted zip file
Unleashed a virus
Pixilated images onto the inside of our eyelids

We’re drowning in misinformation and synthesized ultra-violence
Wishing for simplicity
Wishing we could go back to good old days when we used to raise our fists and proclaim
The iron fist’s grip is slipping and arthritic

Beat

Stop, ok now pump it up again

Beat

Drain the ventricle

Beat

Fill another chamber, repeat

Beat

Stomp your feet, clap hands, a little bit faster now

Beat-Beat

Pause, sorry, arrhythmia, c’mon give it to me…

Beat-beat-beat

And they wonder why bodies move when a good groove plays

Beat

Pump that body fluid through it, move to the rhythm of the

Beat

Arterial pipelines fuel the veins tell me can you feel the

Beat

Street walking to the

Beat

Stop talking and just listen to the…

Beat

Toxic sunset radiates dull red rays into the neon twilight
Falling satellites leaving smoke trails across the starless sky
A lone cockroach crawls through scattered shattered glass from storefront windows
Perched on decaying styrofoam throne, it’s antennae quiver as it waits for the day to die

Moon rises, inspiring howls from packs of wild dogs roaming abandoned superhighways
Roaming skeletal remains of half-rusted freight trains derailed decades before,

Before the war, before nuclear winter sprinkled soft grey ash over amber fields of grain
Before the concrete streets eroded under torrential downpours of acid rain
Before the warplanes vomited their toxic payload on unsuspecting citizens and militants alike
Before the cockroach disappears with a crunch into the mangy dog’s maw as it snarls into the night

Snow-dusted evergreens stretch to the horizon
Silent sentinels, impassive,
Unapologetic, swaying in winter’s ice-gilded night

The Wild’s indifference terrifying
Not some anthropomorphized maternal nature goddess
But harsh brutality of a land rife with danger,
Rife with threat,
The spine-prickling howls of hungry wolves almost inaudible over his chattering teeth

He knows he cannot sleep
Cannot drift into the Dreamworld this icy night,
Knows that if he makes that journey he will not return
His inner fire burning, yearning to survive he trudges on

And on

And on

Until at last he stumbles through icy crust into the freezing white embrace
He waits, body quaking, frozen breath escaping until…
The shivers fade and Charlie enters the Dreamworld
A smile upon his face

Against the inky canopy, stars flicker as if winking at an unseen moon
Flicker in their death throes across the vast expanse of time
One final burst of light to greet the coming dark
One final farewell before black engulfs the sky

Their dying light echoes, relecting off ripples in black lake waters,
Ripples that slowly stretch from shore to shore,
Fragments of energy ever dissapating
Ever weakening till the surface becomes still as the sky above

All is quiet now, the glory of silence permeates the landscape,
The stillness settling panic in prey
Settling malevolent urges in nocturnal winged predators
Water and sky,
Mouse and owl,
Man and beast,
The symphony of nature itself revels in the serenity of night

They call it homeless, I guess

I say I’m home-free

The style of life I choose to live is purely up to me
So forgive me when I’m confused by your pity,
I pity you
Spending most your days doing things that you don’t want to do

In order to what, survive?
Or should I say maintain your excess?
Your flatscreen, your A/C, your mortgage, haircuts for your pets?

You think the need to sacrifice the prime years of your life for things
Is better than sacrificing creature comforts for freedom and all the joy it brings?

Please…

Keep your cars and fancy cheese, your prozac and sleeping pills
Your mattresses and waitresses and need to purchase all your thrills

I wake up with the sun and treat each day as the unknown
I relish my autonomy like you relish your home
And best of all, to have this freedom I don’t need to pay
While you live a life of servitude and work 8 or more hours every day
I’m doing what I will and going where I want and living as I please
The only thing to pity is your society.

Get free

I hear you pattering, plinking,
Trickling in rivulets down rock walls
Soaking the lush explosion of green,
Running down from volcanic hillsides, feeding the sea
Feeding the gardens, the trees,
Cooling the sticky, sweltering air,
A pleasant chill on bare skin as I gaze into the clouds from whence you came,

Source of all that grows around me
Mahalo, gentle rain