The Poetry Marathon

Borrowed Line from Beginning/End of Random Book Prompt (Hour 12)

Borrowed Line: “There is but one truly serious philosophical problem, and that is suicide.” Albert Camus The Myth of Sisyphus

Is life worth living?
One serious question that demands attention
before any others can follow.
The boulder, the weight you bear,
penance in the mundane.
A punishing pursuit that grants order
in an absurd reality.

The procession of hours, days, seasons, meaningless
Every moment, suffering that bears no proof of purpose.
Suicide, a thought bordering within reason,
though defiance is a fresh wound still losing blood.

The mind and the body unite in their labor,
perhaps there is a resolution to this problem,
to embrace the conditional strife of existence,
with the philosophical fullness of being,
create meaning where meaning is missing.
Dethrone punitive gods by truly knowing reality,
with all of its misery, manifest contentment,
In the discord of broken pieces, fragmented, unconnected,
there is a harmony that leads to happiness.

#9 Uncut Umbilical (prompt9)

Isn’t it strange what life can bring?
Here today, tomorrow has gone away.
What would be a purpose?
Of those young breaths,
thrive in a moment, and suddenly cut short
What a shame could be,
As a mask of life unveiled
Zoom.. larger and more explicit
Bottled cries and sad wishes
Questions after questions left unsettled
The stale porridge and untouched
Cannot stop the heat of anger that builds up
The lethargy of a mother for her unborn child
In the cottage of dreams and hope,
Given and taken in a moment.

With you, My Friend, by my side
She thought
and kept everything aside

With you, My Friend, the bond so tight
She thought
and she could fight

With you, My Friend, and all the mess
She thought
and she felt blessed

but,
The one she had thought was her friend
Betrayed her in the end

Locked out

I climb the wall

Not of my own house

But one I used to know

You left your keys

And I can fit through

Your bedroom window

It’s a tight fit

And naturally I’m

Nervous

So I keep my eyes on the carpet

Of the floor

As I reach the floor

The time we were locked out

Justice Over Equality

For too long, they’ve accepted the bitter fruit.
You’ve subjugated them to an unequal seat,
And for years, they’ve been waiting patiently,
Hidden in the back room.

They’ve taken the scraps you’ve thrown out,
Yet they’ve created something of their own.
They’re a proud, vigilant, and righteous people,
Who will rest no longer.

Poverty is their sea, but the tide has turned.
Their humanity has risen against the man’s boot,
For deep within their struggle, there is persistence,
And they will prevail.

Do it right

a book engages more than the mind

if you do it right

3,000 scholars and experts will comb it to find

all the meaning from the binding to the margins

till it bleeds heartache and wisdom and laughs

as authors argue over articles and facts

authenticators calculate the times and places

reviewers justify, clarify the pace

consultants advise and diagnose the dose of prose to give you

If you write, do it right

 

H,12 – CEO

I climbed the heart of the world

Every rocky step, clinging to

its worn surface, Above the red

desert, the mountains and into

the tower, where the soul is,

I become real here, a god,

watching over the action

below. My thoughts raining

down, calling for revolution

 

Last line from – Contemporary debates in urban planning.

• Towers and into the real world where the action is

7. Season of the Phoenix

The Phoenix has a multitude of phases and paths

Throughout it’s journey it was will rise and fall like humans

The most beautifully chaotic phase is during the death and rebirth cycle.

You see after it’s burnt itself into ashes

It’s renewed into a much stronger and more resilient bird.

 

Humans also resemble similar phases throughout thier life cycles.

There are moments of deep grief, loss, and extreme sadness that we sense

Some of us understand more than others the type of pains that can lead us to the darkest depths of our cognitive functions.

Others will recognize how easily we can get lost in those dark thoughts, which turn into cages of imprisonments of our minds.

 

I want to remind you that the resiliency we have can and will conquer any darkness we face.

Our minds will also go through the season of the Pheonix and burn themselves to ashes,

As we will rise to become even more tenacious, more experienced, and much stronger than we began.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

After that call in which I Chorused “mother live”

After that call in which I chorused ‘Mother, live’

The neighbour I despised loves to go with the wind:
what comes from your mouth must drop in her ears
before anyone knows what it was. I say I despise her.

But on that night, she asked who I wanted to stay
a while with, and hold sword to wrestle grief.
I said I was talking to my mother. And she gifted

my wishes a mouthful of amen. A pinch of the hatred
I had for her melted into dew on my tongue.
There was this curiosity dozing in her iris. So, I opened

myself into a pool, a place to bury the fire in her.
A step closer to me broke her voice into questions.
Say her name. Kudiratu? Helen? Idowu?

I shrieked: Brigitte is her name. She began a language
I do not understand. But it was her god she seeks.
Perhaps, she was expecting a slice of the miracle

she thought had awoken my mother on her tongue.
She’d thought paradise is here.
Perhaps I lied; my mother never died.

The young woman began humming a song
the kind sang during last rites to reflect hope
in the heart of mourners – friends and foes.

I planted half of my hatred for her
and asked if she could amplify her voice,
so I could join in the solemnity of survival.

Hour 11 — The Peoples’ House

Beth A. Fleisher

Hour 11

 

Prompt 11:  Write a poem about or set in a place you have never been to. It could be a real concrete location, or something more metaphorical, imaginary or fictional – somewhere over the rainbow comes to mind.

 

The Peoples’ House

 

We walked down Black Lives Matter Plaza

to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, the Peoples’ House.

It used to be called the White House, but after

the murder of George Floyd by a White

Minneapolis police officer,

and the months of Protests across the country that followed,

the White House became a bunker

for the Never Named One,

and the peoples were kept out by nine-feet-high,

black riot fences and concrete barricades.

 

When the White House was liberated

on January 20, 2021, on his first day in office,

our new President

issued an Executive Order renaming

the historic building the Peoples’ House,

and we stopped at the large, new sign

to get our pictures taken.

 

It was a new day in America, and at the Peoples’ House.

We could see and feel the difference.

On the South Lawn, the flag of the National Congress

of American Indians now proudly flies

beside the U.S. flag

and the Black Lives Matter flag.

Secret Service agents hand us bottles of water

when we enter the East Wing, and the President

and his wife greet us and welcome us.

 

Our tour guide lead us to the Oval Office, and

we were happy to see that the portrait

of slave-owning Andrew Jackson — best known as

“an Indian fighter” for his brutality and genocide

against Native Americans — was gone, removed to storage.

In its place hangs a painting of Chief Crazy Horse,

a great leader of his people.

On another wall, a portrait of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

honors his life and legacy.

Throughout the Peoples’ House, paintings and statues

glorifying racism and oppression had been removed,

and artwork showing inclusivity and justice for all

is now lifted up and admired.

 

When we finished the tour and left, we felt that

the Peoples’ House truly represented all of the people.

It was a good day to be at the Peoples’ House.