The Poetry Marathon

Hour 8: Inspired by The Outsiders by S.E. Hinton

Paul Newman and a ride home

Orphaned boy looking at sunsets

Sharks circle, surround, hold him down

Choking, gasping, water runs red

One boy left with the blood, another left dead

Runaways- Outlaws- Gone with the Wind

Blonde disguise- Bologna sandwiches and cigarettes to pass the time

Church and innocence consumed by flame

Smoke filled lungs strangled

Burnt fleshed heroes

A light extinguished from gentle eyes- too soon

Denial, acceptance, a letter slips free

“Stay gold, Ponyboy. Do it for me….”

Hour 9: Tools

Lorde said: 

“The master’s tools 

will never dismantle 

the master’s house.”

 

You might make a dent

But that don’t mean the cat

Won’t catch the mouse,

Like Tom & Jerry.

 

Stop trying to get their tools

And set them to a different mission

Without the comprehension

…and, should I mention?

 

Don’t unpin them from walls

Don’t buy them from malls

You won’t learn it in their hallowed halls.

 

Did the master build those tools

Or get someone else to make them?

Cut the legs beneath the future

Before we have the chance to meet it

You can see what they got, 

But if you want fulfillment

You’ll find out that you don’t really need

To do what they do 

You can’t get where they are 

By putting on somebody else’s shoes.

 

She told us to think out of the box

To break out the locks 

That bind, blinding the mind

To other options 

Get outta their shed

Get right in your head

Recenter those with the 

least historical power

Build community foundations

While you knock over their tower

 

Remember you are not workhorses

There’s always more recourses

It’s more about the heart of the people 

Than it is the resources

Girl and Puppy – Hour Nine

Soft and cuddly, warm and sweet
The nicest puppy you’ll ever meet
With big black ears and a wet cherry nose
She follows my daughter wherever she goes
She cuddles and licks with the greatest of ease
She wags her long tail as big as you please
She is the best friend that a young child could know
And as years go forward, their dear love will grow
A girl and her puppy, growing up together
They’ll be the best of friends in all kinds of weather
As both become bigger, they’ll be more mature
But I have no doubt that their love will endure
One day, time will fade, as time so must do
Their days in the sun and the shade will be through
But kept in a girl’s memory, her first childhood pet
Whose love was so pure she could not forget

the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree

choose it’s up to you

to be or not to be same

fall how far from tree?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Not for sale

I am not for sale.

Not a toy for you to throw about

Or stand on display whenever you deem it necessary.

I am not for sale.

The color of my skin is not a holiday you take when you want to experience life on the other side.

I am not a trip you take when you want to culture appropriate.

I am not for sale.

The trauma I have endured as a direct result of my melanin is not your story to be told.

I am not a book placed precariously upon a library shelf for you to browse about and peruse at your convenience.

I am not for sale.

I am not the angry black woman you’ve been warned about.

I am not the teacher, paid to answer your every question about what is appropriate and what is not.

I am not for sale.

And my voice is not yours to control.

Just in case you don’t already know… the North won and slavery abolished.

I am not for sale.

What Passes For Wisdom–Hour 9

It is what it is

not what we wished it dear Ms.

I say we when I mean me

for I must not assume thee

and me have the same desires

or similar fires

to be stoked

or toked

it is what it is?

non-attachment ’tis

just live in the moment

no wanting to foment

all this in roundabout you see

I simply name it tautology

Hour Nine, Text and Image Prompts Together

Still Waters

He warned me to test the waters
before entering,
one toe would do
to let me know
if I’d be in hot water,
but it certainly wouldn’t tell me
if I’d be in deep water
over my head.

But, come hell or high water,
by god, I would try.

He warned me I’d be dead in the water
if I didn’t watch out,
predators lurk beneath
even a local watering hole;
it would not be enough
to simply
keep my head above water.

His arguments didn’t hold water with me,
I knew I would survive.

He warned me I’d be a fish out of water
without him to protect me.
He begged me to stay,
begged me to forgive,
in a year it would all be
water under the bridge.

But soon I was gone, for after all,
within my soul still waters run deep.

Mess

I want your mess

While your heart

Flutters.

I want your trash

Garbage

Street signs.

I want

Your dumpster

Fire.

I want your guns

Arms

Smoothed

Like those rocks

You throw at boys

When your only choice is

To throw back.

I want the

Parts of you

That don’t know

Where to go

And I want

That look

You give

When you

Don’t know

Where to put

Those parts.

And I Bid Ye Farewell- Hour 9

Dear Lost City,

For the sand meals I cooked

On childhood playgrounds

For my first day at school

When I took my first steps

For the lifelong friends I made

And the lessons I learnt

The trees I climbed

The pools I swam

Drives to school

Parties with friends

Laughter- as much of it as you let me

Thank you

But I must take my leave of yoou

Because brighter futures await me

Over your mountains and across your seas

I must find the secrets that Life holds for me

#9 Mole Hills to Mountains

Making a Mountain out of a Mole Hill

majestic mountain peaks perforating azure blue sky
requiring sherpas and oxygen tanks to mount its summit
while the hill of the mole is merely a marker
for what lies beneath the earth’s skin.

take glory in your peaks of success and accomplishment
not forsaking life’s winding maze to find home
digging in the dirt to find the places we got hurt*
Feasting on the succulent worms that filter and cleanse
all that we have been through and what really matters.

*homage to Peter Gabriel