The Poetry Marathon

Sirens beckoned to Odysseus and his ship
Bound to the mast crew deafened
Lashing out trying to escape
Fixated on yonder allure
Seductive charm turns to screams
When unable to get their way
The dark realty hidden inside emerges
Facades fade
That desired intimacy which was never.

Dreaming each night
Imaginary accusers
Playing out the same scenes
Continually condemned
Never sure why.

I remembering being told that the size of bowl and the size of fish explained how you related to your surroundings,
Even in the biggest pond there must be a place to hide, and small pool can feel empt,
The last year was a body of water changing size every moment
Feeling suffocated then alone
Cycling miles down the beach utterly alone on Saturday,
Then locked away curfewed in my self chosen cell.

When a prisoner is release they take the bars with them,
Standing where I am the before is seen through what happened,
After such a trip there is so much to unpack.

Sauntering uncertain yet with direction
Repetitions familiar in distant dreams
Archetypal actions given from before
Strange when leaving is only stabbing still
Space rotating around arriving me there again
Yet still just me moving my way through.

Opening with metaphor an ivory cage,
Things never meant to be discovered,
Continually buried deeper by myself
Objects too dark yet too piercingly bright
Relegated to what shouldn’t matter
Yet feel it stronger the more I look away.

Attaching closeness so often in life
Some pull still faded
Others shine standing out but can’t be felt
Are these chords finite
Do I attach myself to myself with the illusion of another,
Overused words dull echos in a murky landscape,
Let those love now who’ve never loved; let those who’ve loved, love yet again.

Repeat

Waves curling through thick hair
Grasping releasing into despair
It’s dark in here, I don’t want to go out

Swelling raising choking
Momentary frenzy looming
It’s dark in here, I don’t want to go out

Crumbling edge gulf appears
Teetering swaying no landing gears
It’s dark in here, I don’t want to go out

Confining groves plowed and worn
All caught up, resistant to mourn
It’s light out there, I don’t think I can go out

Levitating painted gold a wonder to behold,
Street performer yet metaphors
Supports inside confuse
Beneath the blanket below
Inside the clothes
Supports tangible yet unseen,
How we do indeed hold up.

I was never sure when to get off,
First i was in Norway and was struck by how strong and caring it was,
But I felt bored, was uncomfortable ans surprised to not be moving,
Then I drifted through Canada – never actually stopping, felt too stunned by leaving Norway.
Moving on I passed to Israel, there I spoke like friends for months before I actually got off,
When I did it was difficult as I knew her all too well,
She pushed me on snd vanished behind me and the trip continued on ahead.
Some stops were so minor and short they don’t even count, others I yearned for but didn’t hold me back, always compelled to keep on going, if I didn’t stop for long I couldn’t get old.
Back in London after much getting around,
Yet Moscow came and stopped in my life,
Felt like Norway again,
Was so impressed, excited and yet insecure and harsh,
One day Moscow had enough, and it’s turned cold and was no longer a place to stay,
Poland came next in an overlapping stop, rhyming names which everyone forgot.
Something inside me made it hard to stay, anywhere at all, and clung inside my moving place,
Pushing at the place I was, always thinking of the next place to go, rarely appreciating where I was, so never really being anywhere at all,
Later constructing with photos memories which otherwise seem like someone else’s,
Cursing myself to trudge on,
Then taking myself far away, Armenia in America supposedly a permanent place to stay,
Yet how volatile that was and restricted-depressed I couldn’t really stay,
How it felt at those times how badly my stop fit me, yet nowhere worked so a vagabond I went,
I left Armenia afraid, like I almost escaped and then needed to move for some time,
Like a cruise ship with a day stop I went surveying traveling a few new bays,
Trying at last to reflect inside,
Like seeing the world and the outside.
I stayed again in America, first fleeting, uncommitted and yet finally trying to remain,
I don’t think that being in one place,
Is the ultimate goal in this transitory life,
Yet being forced to run and never slow down,
Is exhausting
And even the colors blur from motion,
I learned so much from the places I went,
Humbled in awe and learning to remain,
Knowing that even this longest journey must end.

Faint flickers,
Grandmother’s stories,
Lead into maternal line,
Knowing at once where,
The key departed John left,
Her friend called her the day,
After he died as he had promised he would.

Forwards and inert chest flicker,
Always felt not seen nor heard,
Deciphering all the lies and junk,
Just trust that gift inside resonate,
Utilising weirdness to find,
Just knowing innately,
What is happening about.

Passed down to one never unwrapped,
Slowly understood ripening along me,
Undoing the need for words,
Feeling out what is actually there,
Sensing the gaps fabricating and such,
In detection a chance to relieve that weight,
Open sun card – bloom pollinate in trust.