The Poetry Marathon

My world is little
choosing who to let in
depends on that role
I am playing at that time

As I grow
less importance is placed
on things I can visually see
To find truth
the eyes stiffen you
like a wax figure
that sparkle you were born with
dims
as you sift through
the messages received
throughout life
people are the problem
distance is required
Here
we seek to find a obtainable truth
only
to return to the darkness
that birthed you
the realm
of the earth
we started forgetting
as soon as we came here
it all ends
but my spirit wakes me
telling me to leave
something behind
something
to remind the earth
you were here

A little madness keeps you alive
Running is madness
Your reward
tiny breaks of bone
You have to remind yourself
to find balance
it feels like
learning to breathe again
its juggling
reminding you not to take more than you need
to get through the next steps
I am a baby again
aware
listening to what has been gifted temporarily for me
to use
this body
its
feeling
the energy flow to my fingertips
reaching for more
air
as I try to breathe normal
my body is fighting my mind
its my life story
They are hardly ever on the same page
I close that door of interference
this time
I am in my body
The mind isn’t being listened to
It had been calling me names
then asking me questions
like an abusive boyfriend
I can’t speak to it right now
I am too busy struggling to breathe

Art is the gift
born into souls
wrapped in watercolor soaked bows
it’s beauty captures my mind
quickly enchanting me
to create
We are here for it
to share with the world

Colors move
inside
ideas transpire
rocking my calm
to sleep

cooking
scrambled designs
encouraging life
to flow
beyond the black and white
beyond the mundane
beyond what we know

Creating is travel
on easels
acrylic paints
colored pencils
pastels
shift energies
souls move on paper here

I imagine monsters
in human form
coming from my head
but I yell them away, and they run
I chase but they keep looking back
they are ready for me to be afraid
like I was the first time
I won’t allow it
they are a part of me
I will keep chasing them away
because if I don’t they will
take over my thoughts

Wonder
the thing
our uniqueness
what makes a tick
click
boom
grow
the magic in our souls
we are the magicians
life is the magic
wonder is the explore

I’m longing for quiet
after a long day
there is no way to escape
and its too much noise here

Everyone needs something from me
Everyone wants something from me
Little People have the most demands

Demands that help me forget of the office party
Demands that helped me forget that appointment
that phone call
that paperwork

I’m often just running on empty
with a cup of crazy dripping along the side

I long for silence here

Talk or sleep?
Close in the dark, he asked
I reply, artificial light gives me headaches
you are welcome to stay
but only if you stay quiet
I dislike noise
my ears have become accustomed to my own snore
I dread conversating
more at night
when my eyes flicker
fighting the inevitable that tiredness brings

the moon gives too much light sometimes
in opposite moments darkness is a gift
the interior of my brain
paints vivid tales
I feel my hunger approach, like a long distance phone call
soliciting subconsciously
for a different story
as I lay in the night
wanting to lose the illusion
daylight brings

No talking, just sleep.

Everything living starts small
at some point
you encounter another
and this will repeat
until at some point
you’re wrapped up

Your shape changes
it more embellished
more welcoming
more inclusive
more grouped
more reviewed
more impulsive
more scathed
just more of everyone we
have ever encountered

The pressure
the color red has
deep dreams of what I thought I wanted
I re-imagine what the day means
for me
the quilted statements from society
to accessorize yourself
based on what its supposed to mean

Single parents celebrate it differently
with homemade photo shoots
and cupcakes with red icing

I gift flowers to my kids
and kiss them good morning
cause they are my loves
I make heart shaped pancakes
and slow down what the day means for me
unframing the nude woman
who once felt this day needed to be filled with an
outsider

complicating the function
this day should hold
passing the time
trying to force like
on a day, that fails to recognize
one such love isn’t concerning with anyone else.

Nowaday every thing is streamed
outdated
entering into the matrix
even technology transforms
like headboards to side tables
they are all the same
just new
just different
just allowing us to forget more
allowing us to count on them

One day we may lose it all
everything about us
not backed up
and no one will have numbers saved
and no one will know the name of that song
and no one will know how to press record
or what it means to have your tape ate up
no one will know how to wind it back up

because the goals
keep getting moved on the tech field
and everyone wants to have the new thing
what happens to us then
when the land runs out
when the earth runs out
where will all our data go