The Poetry Marathon

Grant me peace.
Allow me
sleep eternal
or another way
out of here
this dark, this first
forest I called home
adopted
not birthed.

my departure
will not burn concrete.

the embers
will burn
then fade
as always
red hot to burn
and linger coals
blindly releasing
energy
in the form
of heat.

Blackened marks, maybe,
but even they
will wash away
with water,
and time

take from me
whatever you want
from
whatever is left
in the ruins
I won’t be needing
any
fire sale
if you will.

EVERYTHING MUST GO.

whatever stays,
is lost.

I am Flood,
destruction
pulling under
currents
swallowing foreign
drowning breaths

I have found
this world
is a haven
for ignorance.

The mediocre
is inescapable
the skin
is already
bleeding

run, child,
maybe you can escape this.

Tell them what they need to hear
Lie to them
Tell them you’re not drunk
so you can drive away from them
and go where you’re wanted.
Heh. Want is a word I use sparingly.
Disappointment waited for you, boy,
you stood her up.
Bad plan,
but now it’s hers to deal with
for her days of quiet
reading in her apartment
made of years and old woods
already cut
for use
and we cannot fight function.
Shrill noises snap me back.
Items hold memories
and from memories
we gather magic
and usefulness
beyond use of word.
But understanding runs.
Hope is fleet,
I should know,
my feet hurt from running
and I hold you
close though I don’t know
why.

I sift through
the passing times
finding broken glass
in piles among the sand
musing character
and what can be done
with two hands
and hard work
build something
put it to use
make the new
from years of abuse
physical mental
emotional warfare
yearning for a chance
to prove I care
flying, failing, flailing through
doing whatever it is I must do
The drawings scattered
in old notebooks
foretell the future
of bubbling brooks
and trees not paper
nature’s progress
humanity advances
to regress
old problems never solved
just put to the back of the mind
hoping the answer will come with time
but not the attitude
however
dystopian calls
are always crude.

Take every piece and put it back to better
take every ash every molecule
stitch it back together
til its woven into the tapestry
You realists fade and fail
to comprehend me
magic doesn’t exist to the
frail in fealty
learn to accept the unexpected
and prepare for the Storm
you’ve disrespected
left neglected broken
beaten and subjected
left to the elements
to learn lessons of life and love
and the true beauty
of the chrysanthemum
or the butterfly or the pebble
feeling of the wind
or the rush in your hair
feeling all around you everywhere
the lost the hopeless and abandoned
upside and torn and twisted
this town and my existence
but this tempest bred the best
broke me down, put me through the test
of the decision between
life and eternal
rest and what it really means
to have consciousness

take every piece.
stitch it back together.
woven into the tapestry.
woven back to better.

The Sunlight shines,
Moonlight fades
shadows come and go
Time passes, beauty fades
sure as the wind will blow
when the world comes down
to what is made of my calvary
you’ll find out what laughter
means to Chivalry.

time passes with every stitch
moonlight fades when the beauty
stitches the tapestry of the world
to face the sunlight back to the better.

These things I know are true
what it means to be me and you
what it means to give
what it means to take
what it means to save the empire
full of empty ranks
of mindless drones
with no counsel they can stand upon
this is a prophet speaking words
of a cognitive anthem
old words resaid to draw a new flame
from fear and anger burned in pantheon
to the wilting figure
trapped in the mirror.
foretold in prophecy
alive in the deep of the
one who holds the key
the one of hope
who soldiers through the tragedy
the epic hero you hold
cradled in your
philosophic fantasy
the wind of change
have destined
that that the winner
of this wellworn
battlefield
may always be found in me.
Be my partner on the path
and let’s find the way.

take every piece.
stitch it back together.
woven into the tapestry.
woven back to better.

time passes with every stitch
moonlight fades when the beauty
stitches the tapestry of the world
to face the sunlight back to the better.

-William M Connors