a  constitution
inquiring for
debate that
resides there
a book
in prophesy
those coming
years with
barter awhile
that journals
any turn
around that
apocalypse has
with balderdash
then spoken
tracts in
between crosshairs

I live my life staring at the clock.
I always think that I don’t have much
time to be the person whom I want to be.

I’ve become a man of time and anxiety.
I can’t relax when I know that each second
is the youngest that I’ll ever be as it fades into nothing.

A thousand reasons to remain in bed
And avoid the coming day
A thousand reasons to bury my head
And keep out of harms way
A thousand voices shout aloud
All to sway my thinking
A thousand wisdoms calling out
Just as I am sinking
A thousand ideologies
Beliefs enforced through system
A thousand refugees to roam
From those who would forsake them
A thousand dreams or nightmares seen
To counter or to chase
A thousand strains of new disease
To cull the human race
A thousand prophets chanting out
Their lore’s sent from above
A thousand children left to die
Outside the realms of love
A thousand homes of worship and prayer
To celebrate our saviours
A thousand faded works of art
To document our failures
A thousand ****** up truths be told
Not met with protestation
A thousand TV gods are borne
And bathed in admiration
A thousand tears these eyes have cried
To wash away the stinging
A thousand choral soft refrains
Peace be found through singing
A thousand floods and droughts to come
Before the world stops turning
A thousand thunderbolts crash down
To keep the whole world burning
A thousand screams my ears have heard
Of tormented siren’s wail
A thousand raging seas to crash
Before it’s safe to sail
A thousand cities sprawling out
Of cold and grey construction
A thousand cities blown apart
Collateral mass destruction
A thousand throngs of humankind
Scattered during war
A thousand hardships to endure
Until they roam no more
A thousand lies to be told
By those in high positions
Thousands living food bank lives
In poverty conditions
A thousand pounds for the 98
To feed their family nest
A million dollars meted out
Just to feed the rest

Copyright Marc Hawkins 2017

as she's
taken a
death toll
in Trenton
and 'bout
a banshee
that cries
how Lycia's
federation unique
as Greek
cities crumbled
so far
that a
trip to
Gibraltar once
frugal now
ideologcal fashion

"never let it die"
never let what die, exactly?
the passion?
i love arranging words
but even i have to admit
that eventually the day will come
when i can't find a new way for the words to sit
and i can't know if that day will come
before the day my curséd hands-
the ones that feel like pianist's when floating across a keyboard
while the owner watches words dance on the page
-become gnarled with age
perpetually pained and praying for the end
my life's greatest joy in the beginning
once my best friend
soon becomes my wayward true love
gone on the wings of a dove
leaving me with nothing to do
but stare hard with tired eyes at a bingo card

or is it the wonder?
wonder is life's greatest blunder
because as long as knowledge knows what's best
wonder will wind up dying like the rest
surely it is no contest
when a child's tooth transfigures into a 50 cent piece
just like magic
except for the part where little timmy
one eye peeled open
sees dad sneaking away in the night
trying so hard not to make a sound
or the year sally slaved over cookies for santa
taking care to leave a carrot for rudolph
only to realize that for some strange reason
santa's signature bore striking resemblance
to mom's when the pen in her hand does a dance

is it the motivation?
motivation is sometimes hard
when people are telling me that this isn't my calling card
all their tight-lipped smiles of pity
whenever i'm asked, "what else do you want to do?"
to be perfectly honest, it feels kind of ******
it's a knife in my heart, a stab in my back
in my darkest hour i feel my resolve crack
and there goes the backbone we all know i lack

or maybe it means me
or bigger than me, the fragility of life
the very thing that causes so many strife
but i know it is merely a pipedream
eventually my poor eyes will lose their gleam
you might say,
"hey now holly
it's not so bad
you could live on through your words
come on, they're more than just a fad
wouldn't that be rad?
now, there's no need to be sad!"
i mean, sure, but it isn't me who's got longevity
it's those words i wrote just to get some levity
what's so special about me
compared to all those other dead white dudes?
tell me one thing about shakespeare the man
and then tell me about your favorite play he penned
then we'll measure which conversation's longer
and that's the answer
regarding whether me or my words are stronger

"never let it die"
now that one's a crapshoot
but trust me, i'll be ****** if i don't go down trying
"ms. mcfarlane, you're dying-"
-**** straight, kid, we're all dying
but listen here, sonny
i'll be a monkey's uncle if you think
i'm going before you do, just another fink
nah, i'm going down screaming and fighting
i don't really care if they drag me down or up
just pour a little more champagne in my cup
this whole life thing? it's mostly dumb luck

"never let it die"-
now that's impossible, but
water it, nurture it, let it grow
not having the ambition, though
that's your real foe
its temporary nature is the artistry
that fosters the artist in me
so sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride
because everything in life happens in due time

1.)

I came home from a marching band event, (I'd call it a football game, but in that little tent on the sidelines, the whole football team gathered and watched their 69-0  loss.) I barely ate and went to sleep.

2.)

I scrolled through Pinterest and saved dank depression memes.

3.)

My unofficial girlfriend called me a GIRL and I've died inside.

4.)

I didn't complete that assignment, I just sat there filthy, unshowered, and called it depression, instead of calling my therapist.

Somewhere I lost a piece in me.
It’s all covered in the past.
Fog and smoke surround my mind,
The voices they echo inside.

What have I become?

Feelings of none I’m only numb,
A shiver lingers down my spine.
That piece once me now empty,
Not free

What has happened to me?

Days I cry a river like Nile,
But nothing soothes my pain.
The echoes inside are now in screams,
Between people bound to rings.
Pressured chest and clutched breath

This never use to be me.

I’m so lost in pain, like stitches pulled
I can kick and claw for a better tomorrow,
But I just don’t feel like it today.

Maybe this is how it’s supposed to be.