The Poetry Marathon

The Shadow

The shadow, from within

it rose from inside him,

can evil be explained?

perhaps it says so much.

 

The shadow had reached high

but no one could say why,

it’s hard to say it’s true

for how could one believe?

 

He caused so much harm

the consequence still felt,

the pain has lingered on

a devil’s aide he was.

 

That explains the black,

the shadow she once saw

the candles overlooked

the black that engulfed her life.

 

The evil he had cast

the shadows from within

should we blame it on that?

the demons had claimed him.

 

 

 

 

 

BANANAS

Bright blue birds broke out

Bliss brewed up back then

Bragged boasts , burnt buns ,

Blaze burning brilliant blue.

Brushes blushed , black beamed

Blind bars , brave boys ,

Brief breaks blew bowling

Bliss brimmed by broth bowl.

Opacity and Distance

August again, brightening albicant haze

Delphic mirrors bending light towards the horizon

And sky

My eyes burn

I blink and the vision is gone.

Life Embarks

Be our best
so why bother to compare
no two alike, this is the point, my dear

so be
naturally, no game involved

be at 5 PM
eyes red, hair tossed
whatever the day presents

be at 2 PM
going all day
body somewhat a mess

be at 8 PM
lazier and sedentary
love still in the veins

Be 12
when all the dreams were in the making

everything you are began long ago
Time is, this is not essence, you are
life embarks

Teachers Who Require Family History Assignments Should go Fuck Themselves

Teachers Who Require Family History Assignments Should go Fuck Themselves

after Ollie Schminkey

 

Still no one told me how my grandpa died. He and all his boys had names with the letter “T.” Like they’re all semblance of variation to him and I’m wondering how I can get even smaller. How tiny can I make my eyes without shutting them? My mother doesn’t even acknowledge my father’s family until they seem to intrude with kindness. She ask me whyI’d want to vacation up north where they live. There’s nothing there. Sure, trees. Their economy so bad. No jobs. She tell me without telling me I’m wrong. Next answer.

 

Everything is bipolar when you scrounge deep enough. My mother sells my father’s and my sister’s artwork under her own name. My father used to throw his own shit at cars with his brothers. Beatings were a routine like brushing teeth before bed. He never touched me. Maybe that’s fear. He tells me stories of Cold War Germany and how the Czechs would moon them across the border on their walls. He tells me how he smashed a man’s face in with the bronze sheen of a beer bottle because he was harassing every woman and military man in the bar.

He tells me never to salt a man’s coffee. He lives on it the way I shoulder social anxiety and depression with cheap college backpack and a one eyed glance at doorways. I don’t speak to my aunt who has onset dementia and a failing nervous system anymore. She used to give me CDs and books and movies. My uncle hasn’t changed a day.

My mom speaks groundhog day 20 questions to me. My sternum knots itself with her inborn smoking habits 25 years in the making. She still thinks it’s a secret. We hold onto addictions like the want of eye contact and smiles when in love. I hold onto my already dead sister after her stroke and brush her hair like we’re ten and seven again. Grandma’s dead at 88 and the house sold too cheap and no one has Thanksgiving together anymore. We are not together. I fail at suicide ten days later. Everyone still asks me the same questions or not at all. Nothing has changed. Funny how temporary death really is.

Internal heart, meet wind. Be gone. Love like wave always returning to smother kiss on beach.

Nothing ever changes.

Purge

An unfinished painting

Empty bottles

Scattered remnants of childhood passed

One by one erased

Moved on to another home

Another life

Am I giving up who I was?

Or is starting anew a blessing?

the old girl #2

the old girl

 

the green ford pick-up owed him nothing

in truck years it was far older than he

tires worn, bed rusted, tailgate knocking

he muttered complaints settling on the

worn bench seat tuning in only a.m. radio

hundreds of miles delivering his services to

those who’d pay for freshly painted homes

several new mufflers and brakes over the years

always costing him more but the engine was sound

she never let him down come inspection

still with metal bumpers and adjustable mirrors

some city fella offered cash for this collectable

felt to him like selling a family member

give her up the kids badgered his wife keeping silent

folks knew the old girl waving tooting as he passed

the bond stronger with time both needing new parts

she outlasted him but just barely the boys leaving

the chrome ford emblem on his headstone

Phrase Florist 2016 Marathon Poem #2: Dropping Critique

Dropping Critique

When hearing your feedback, my body tenses up.

Agree, disagree to whatever you say.

Such heavy words to apply to my baby.

Be gentle and love her, this piece of my heart.

 

An Acrostic Poem of a Travelsmith

Because of you I explored

Under the misty star-filled sky. You

Gave me all that I could ever need.

Our relationship perfect, uncomplicated.

Unusual yes, but not complicated. I

Thought you’d always be there to support me in my adventures, until you were not.

Because of you I continue to explore,

Asking unanswerable, larger-than-life questions and

Grappling with my loss.

Warnings

See I’m the crazy one

because them I see through.

Many mask they’ll wear

only to fool you.

Emotional despair the devils snare

to eternally trap you.