The Poetry Marathon

The only way out
is through
through the depths
of a lifetime
of emotions denied

across the threshold
between then and now
carrying memories,
hopes
and presence

into
the light.

The greatest journey
is not where you find yourself
but your life’s purpose

The time is once again
upon us- The anticipation
is high like always
I’ve made my preparations

I’ve prayed to God for strength
and stamina- I write to please him
no one else- And it takes alot out
of me

I’ve gone to the store
and bought groceries both
good and bad-
I have a sweet tooth
and sometimes it helps

It’s cloudy and rainy outside
Threatening a storm or two
Perfect weather for a night such
as this

I have told everyone not
to bother me- They know my writing
is important to me-whether they
appreciate it or not

I can see that like always
the time is growing short
the rest of my preparations
are necessary-

Extra paper
Pens and pencils
lots of cocoa
tea
headphones
and music
A change or two of scenery
and above all-

Patience.
Throw in some sleep deprivation
for good measure

The words won’t come
too quickly
and that’s ok,
but if they do-
I must be ready to catch them.

Sometimes the words
don’t want to listen and come
far too quickly for me to catch them
all

The only demands on my time
today, is that I pay attention to
the clock at times

My recipe for the poetry marathon

a rampage of rhythms caresses my audient streams with droplets of heaven; music of ease

Ecstacy engulfs me from within

as i powerfully release

entering home that never leaves

home always with me.

content warning: talks about disability inspiration porn. and it’s derisive, as it should be 😛

I didn’t understand then
but time and space makes me realize
how much we put people like you (like me)
‘on display’.
You wanted, and so you did,
and it never mattered that you were blind.
How did you keep your patience?
Getting random ‘rewards’
simply for trying new things?
Being held up as an example?

How did you keep your patience?
Your hands were so soft,
and I told you I was afraid,
and you told me it was fine,
you had me.
And you did –
you knew what it was like to not see
and you lead me where we needed to go.

I don’t know how any of you didn’t scream.
People talked down to you, talked around you,
like being blind meant you couldn’t
and being deaf meant you couldn’t
and being in a wheelchair meant you couldn’t
but the whole time you – all of you – understood.

You helped me with a lot.
Sometimes, when I am scared,
and am blind to the future,
I remember your soft hands,
and the joking about how scared I was,
and the way you loved me
enough to guide me
through a silly, pointless activity.

Wherever you are now,
I miss you, but I like to think
that you’re happy.
Not successful in the way of
societal expectations,
But successful in the way of
a life on your terms.

wolf house was haunted by the profits made by a white man
selling stories not his own even though the studio of this sprawling home
teemed with gifted artifacts and artworks

I couldn’t touch a thing in there

sage and deerskin and feathers and arrowheads
handmade dolls and hand-strung jewelry
piled in disarray collecting dust

he didn’t touch a thing there

the day that I left the pool was dry and filled with sand
some noodles and toys abandoned in the deep end
this was the place where time stood still

no one touched a thing here

years had passed since family had gone but their shadows lingered
nothing moved an inch nothing moved at all
no moving on – I watched a brilliant mind turn cold and slow and frozen

nothing can be touched here

and nothing can be reached or changed
solidified against the desert’s edge
the only living soul was me

something about here – touched me

The rapid motion
lends a blur
a buzz

to the colors of a world
turning to cotton candy

this air of excitement
captures the warmth of a day well-lived

We cruise to our final destination
as the adrenaline rush starts to fade
with the heat of the hot summer day

We are ready to go home
to let the vibrations of joy subsist

but first,
we watch the gorgeous evening pass
in the mirrors surrounding us
we let the car capture the world around us
and reflect this memory back,

anchoring it in our hearts

She did not hear the story as many women have heard the same, with a paralyzed inability to accept its significanceShe wept at once, with sudden, wild abandonment, in her sister’s arms. When the storm of grief had spent itself she went away to her room alone. She would have no one follow her.

There would be no one to live for during those coming years; she would live for herself. There would be not be powerful will bending hers in that blind persistence with which men and women believe they have a right to impose a private will upon a fellow-creature. A kind intention or a cruel intention made the act seem no less a crime as she looked upon it in that brief moment of illumination.

to count to three and

after eat the M&M’s

all week he struggles

flicker of light in his eyes

his victory is short-lived