The Poetry Marathon

BLAT – Hour 5

Fingerprints on the fridge
footprints in the fabric
a foreign perfume in the air
a trial of breadcrumbs left behind

Who stole my sandwich?

It had my name on it
and everything
bacon, lettuce, tomato, and cheese
but it’s so much more than a BLAT

The fridge is cold
like my sandwich-less heart
it’s making a strange noise
it feels my pain

I see him
Jim
the office manager
picking bacon from his teeth

My new enemy
no one takes my sandwich
and gets away with
no one!

Revenge is best served cold
like a sandwich
Oh
I miss it.

Adventure (Poem 5)

Oh! Adventurer
Did a new place call out to you?
That you’re setting out on a new journey

Oh! Explorer
Are your feet not able to settle at one place?
That you’re always on-the-go

Oh! Traveler
What are you seeking?
That you’re always in search of the next big thing

Oh! Dreamer
When will you pause and take a breath?
That you’re able to enjoy the moment you’re in

Oh! Motivator
Don’t ever stop
Your stories are what lets people know how big the world is

Oh! Inspirer
Never settle
You are the reason we know the world doesn’t revolve around us

Oh! Catalyst
What’s new and exciting this time?
Tell us so that we may rid of our drab routines for a while

 

 

 

Hour 6–Just Ask Mother Nature

Female octopuses throw shells at males that irk them.

So reads the lead-in to the story online.

And herein lies a message to poets:

Why waste ink on the bastards

when a well-aimed projectile will serve the same purpose?

Concrete #5

Concrete stares
From hard eyes
Concrete shoes
For betrayals
Concrete set
To thin lips
Concrete resolve
Driving the act
Concrete defiance
Daring it
A single splash
Concrete certainty
Of no more tomorrows
One less animal
In a concrete jungle
Where only
Reinforced concrete
Can take the weight.

Flat Earthers Around the Globe-Hour Six

Once upon a smooth night sailing,

the edge was found of the world.

Where moon had the sun suspended

and light fell deep and fathomless dark.

Spinning on a disk with no ending,

all planetoids much the same.

Like plates, twirling, whirling,

the oceans sloshed and continents jiggled,

on their sleepy molten beds

and hanging, suspended off the edge

was what every cat had ever knocked.

A hairtie, a wrench, some string,

a figurine, a d20(an 18, good luck perhaps?)

and my magazines. Such a strange and silly thing,

a flat world without curves.

So that is why the cats enjoy

knocking things off the edge.

Saṃsāra (6)

She was an adderall addled techno gnostic

having graduated from wicca and the baby witches

who still hung around the apartment talking about incense

and the men they were screwing and how awful they were.

 

The occult is not fun or cool

and mostly bores people or perplexes them

her new late night rituals and readings

had me putting crucifixes on my bedroom door.

 

It took one bad salvia trip

and she was screaming at me over the phone

about how we were on a prison planet

that not even death could free us from the Demiurge.

 

It was a unique despair

the idea of the eternal matrix

of endless repetition

and knowing it.

 

Made worse by the pills

providing intensity and laser focus

staring at spots in the air

like she could very well see the grid.

 

I drug her outside one Saturday morning

after dumping the pills and tomes in the trash

I pulled up some dewy grass and closed it into her hand

‘This is real,’ I said  ‘And so are you.’

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Photography”

 

Photography is a silent poetry,

Words transceded to images,

Where your eyes can see,

And your heart can feel.

Its an art mystery,

Clutch strong in our memory,

Proclaim its territory

And knock us down to feel.

It ain’t just a random imagery,

Its poetic,

Its raw,

Its real.

 

#POETRYMARATHON2023 #HOUR06 #24HRSCATEGORY

Office Change(Hour Six)

The names fill the white board,

A tombstone drawn in jest.

Those who moved to other places,

This office no longer the best.

Picking up the pieces.

New hires are moving in.

There’s training and much

work left to begin.

Work from home, work from the office,

What helps people want to stay?

Retirements starting,

Who is next?

Anyone the lottery want to play?

Hey Everyone

Just wanted to say goodluck and hope everyone finishes on a good note. I’ll be starting at 9pm tonight and go till 9am. Gotta finishe gathering my stuff so I am ready. See you all on the otherside, can’t wait to read everyone’s poetry.

Our Hands

They want us docile and simple

Weak and attentive

Leaving our desires behind

Shunning our passionate nature

The want us voiceless

And suffering in silence

They want us calm and unaware

But as the fire burns through the sky

As it rips through the stars

Like a dragon through the sky

We become one with the fire

We let our rage become us

We let our passion roam free

We let our desire lead us

Life is in our hands

Not yours

Our hands

Not your