The Poetry Marathon

(Hour 19) 16.30pm-17.30pm. PROMPT, Companion poem

the other side

The man was okay. Wasn’t he?
He might have been able to help.
Instead he’s stormed off somewhere.

We both seem dazed.
Standing around listlessly.
We should decide. Risk petrol.
Or just go.

Out of nowhere, the man reappears
Now pointing a gun. I scream.
Wish I could say I don’t
But I do. Ryan acting tough.
I’m not hearing anything

Trying to talk him down.
Put the gun away.
Asking if he’ll let us go.
One of you maybe.

He looks at me. Suddenly creepy.
How could I have ever/

Ryan saying okay
getting out the keys
I can’t believe/

Throws them past the guy.
First thought, he was aiming at him
He grabs me.
I’m dragged behind, hand clutching his
Don’t want to let go.
Don’t want to fall over.
But the keys, I splutter
My house keys, hurry hurry.

We both fall in. Almost easily.
He starts the ute, pulls away.
Feel terrible I doubted him.
Can’t believe. I actually thought he’d/

Gunshots. Louder than they ought.
But I think they missed. By a long way.
Shotgun pellets would scatter widely
At this range.

Drive in silence for a long time.
Want to say sorry.
But he won’t know what for.

Writing by Moonlight II

The moon has risen high tonight. 
Although it wanes, 
it still shines bright.

Energized by its lunar light,
I bask in moon glow 
as I write.

Just As You Are

Dear Sandi, as a teenage dreamer

the first man you love is not a keeper

 

the art school path was just passé

instead a four year college may

win a better job today

 

You need not look like models fair

a thousand calorie diets beware

you’re imperfect, but never fear

weight is not the problem, dear

 

How you look it matters not

back then you’ll see what you now ought

that diets don’t work, no matter what

just three meals a day

and overeat, do NOT.

 

Learn from errors, love carefully

be the kindest you can be

linger not in past or future

wasted time is all a blur.

 

Just live for today, and may

you always pray and stay

reminded always of this tome

so when someday wrongs go then

just start anew, begin again. 

 

-Sandra Johnson, 6/22/19

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.