The Poetry Marathon

19 – A Letter to Dad About Mom

The part of her that was your lover has nearly dissipated. The part of her that you could calm with a smile  or a wink, her sweetheart part, she buried along with you three years ago. She is raw and untamed, unflinchingly callous. She is bitter that she isn’t with you yet, and fearful that her god will let her down, and you won’t be hers when she gets there. This is where she should be though, angry, deeply,  roughly angry. Her pain is palpable, and her grief is sharp, and takes prisoners.

I hope it is just a phase in her grief, not simply a part of who she was before your love softened her heart, and made her the woman I knew before you left us. I hope it is. But, if is isn’t, maybe you could come over sometime, and out your arms around her while she sleeps in her chair next to yours, and remind her the she will always be your love, and that you will wait for her forever?

19 – emergance (compainian piece for hour 16)

 

We curve ourselves around you

making a nest of our bodies, of our love,

our heart beats the lullaby that rocks you to sleep

your tiny soft shell covered in pink skin

a layer of fat to warm you, to grow you,

 

 

Giving A Fuck (Revisited), Hour 19

-In response to “Giving A Fuck”-

Dwelling upon these systems of control

Is hypocritical

Because an obsession with oppressive systems of control is in itself a form of control

An activist becomes reactionary

Anti-fascist, anti-racist, anti-war…
But what are you FOR?

The only way to escape these systems of control is to create a new system of your own

While decrying oppression is empowering,
Defining yourself by what you stand against is dangerous

Any progress made just a contradiction of external control mechanisms,
A treatment of symptoms,
Ignoring systemic causes

Thumb nose at pop cultures,
Dismiss statism in all it’s forms,
But all that anger,
Frustration,
Defiant rage

Imprisons the individual
Far more than any piece of totalitarian legislation passed by governments

Illumination of the problems doesn’t solve them

If all focus is on the external,
The internal atrophies,
What makes us original and unique
Lost
All energy expended on everything but ourselves

Freedom isn’t too far out of reach
But to hold something,
Grasp lightly,
Think mindfully,
Act righteously,
Walk with Purpose

Because talk

Is cheap

Hour 17. (2019)

Tired rocks push

Against the tireless ocean

When will they crumble?

Neurosis

Neurosis (Companion to The Age of Innocence – Hour 9)

The age of innocence

The doll’s play gives way to bigger games

As blasphemy loses its might

When a young girl and her lover

Declare their vows

To be together forever

Conflicting emotions surround them

As they hold each other’s hands

And watch their age of innocence fly away

Neurosis

Innocence is contagious

And I too lie scattered

In the sophistry of the future

As I am

The neurotic edge

Of society

Fallen from the height of

That age of innocence

 

Hour 19

@varenyas

19~18

Opening up to me

and loving me

“What would I do without you?”

you say.

 

Caressing me

and holding me

“I love you.”

you say.

 

Laughing with me

and teasing me

“Where’s your brain?”

you say.

 

Staring at me

and hating me

“How can you do this?”

you say.

 

Ignoring me

and hurting me

“I forgive you.”

you don’t say.

The canyon

She opened the letter wondering  the occasion.

Her dear friend never wrote, much less made it to post—must be some occasion.

Before reading any words, the picture fell from the envelope. The Grand Canyon, Cynthia in the bottom left corner, gazing at that coveted view.

How dare she?

How dare she send such a photo having made the final decision not to go on their trip across the country?

Who took the picture and why did I get a copy?

Slowly slipping the photo back in the envelope, she tucked it away.

That was for another time.

And so was a visit to the canyon.

 

Dear Me

oh dear

oh dear

oh dear

dear me

what a time we’ve had

on this long journey

to neverland

 

I am lost to you

and sometimes me to you

traveling through time

I come upon you then

and now

sometimes I don’t know when

or who

or how.

 

when memory fails

and I see my mirrored self

unrecognizeable

forsaken by my own mind

I wonder why

and sometimes I wonder

who she is

that woman reflected there

so old but with a glimmer

of me

when I am young

 

dear me

dear me

dear me

O dear please don’t mind

for she will disappear

and you will once again

dwell upon the mystery

in the picture on that shining wall

Prompt 24: Matsuo Bashō’s Crow

kare-eda-ni
karasu-no tomari-keri
aki-no kure

on a withered branch
a crow is perched
autumn evening

snow rests on the branch
waiting for a forlorn crow
after summer’s heat

Yuki ga eda ni kakatte imasu.
Karasu o matteimasu.
Natsu no atsusa no nochi ni

I was listening to ‘Murder in the Red Barn’ by Tom Waits

When the air gets stale and musty
in the swamp of late July
The cicadas scream all day
at night the possums start to cry

The old man’s drunk and mad again
killing in self-defense is not a crime
It’s too damn hot to tolerate this shit
he smacked her one too many times

She might be getting on in years
but she’s a woman of many faces
He owes a lot of money
And she’s known men in strong places

She knows she’s in the old man’s will
She knows the first name of the county clerk
She knows where old man keeps the axes
She knows what time he gets off work

The rats grew bored of stealing cheese
and ganged up on a mouse
And the lady of the home
is stuck inside this house

eh you get the idea