Category Archives: LexPoMo 2015

Poems submitted during the Lexington Poetry Month 2015 Writing Challenge

The Sky is Falling, and I Will Never Overcome Oedipus

229 Replies
The Sky is Falling,
and I Will Never Overcome Oedipus

I always thought Colonel Saunders a bit creepy. Now that he’s shown up in Haruki Murikami’s Kafka on the Shore I’m sure of it. He’s a pimp who claims to be neither Buddha, nor God, nor man. He’s a concept, he keeps insisting. I’m not sure why he is appearing in this Japanese novel. (Though, with Murikami, I’m often unsure about a lot of things.) The protagonist here is a 15 year old boy who has renamed himself Kafka, which in Czech means crow. He is running away from his fate. His father, a famous artist, has predicted he will kill his father and fall in love with his mother. (It’s been done before, I know.) Mackerel and leeches fall from the sky. Men are mysteriously murdered. At the same time, I am studying Kafka. (I am teaching the Metamorphosis in the fall.) On Sunday I read Kafka’s letter to his father. It was very sad, but not unfamiliar. Some people take up too much space. They overwhelm us. Anyway, in the book, Kafka on the Shore appears in a painting, in a song, in a 15 year old boy visiting the ocean. Connections, says Murikami, make meaning. But I no longer feel any connection to you. And I am wondering. What does that mean?

Come the Zombie Apocalypse

672 Replies

You’ve got it all worked out.
First, you’ll stash the cat

down into your backpack
in-between the bottles of water,

your pink-leather flask full of bourbon—
for medicinal reasons—your flashlight,

your handheld CB radio—to listen for
Cowboy Dave’s frequency like he told you to—

and your good copy of The Prophet.
Then, SWAT knife in hiking boot,

you’re gonna break into the Wal-Mart
with the other looters to grab guns,

peanut-butter, toilet paper, smokes,
gummy bears, and underwear.

You’ve already told your closest friends,
your mom and sister four states away,

and even your ex-husband
to meet you at Martin Castle

on Versailles Road—the one that that eccentric
couple started building back in ‘69

that serves as a bed and breakfast now—
because it is on high ground

and already has sixteen bedrooms,
a swimming pool, turrets, and a stone wall.

You figure you all could dig a moat
and fill it with the bodies of zombies

you’ve already beheaded and later
build emergency huts in any trees

around the castle because everyone
knows zombies can’t climb trees—as long

as they’re not the zombies from World War Z—
and there’d be plenty of room for your whole squad

and maybe even some of their friends
and you’ll all work the land together

and take turns standing guard
in the tree-huts and from the turrets

to protect what’s yours from marauders.
You’ll see to it that the men who live

at Martin Castle won’t revert
and go all Mad Max, snatching up women

by their scalps and getting into brawls
over your precious few resources.

But you’ll feel mostly safe
behind those walls

because you know way too many
dopeboys and good ol’ boys with firearms

and itchy trigger fingers
just looking for an excuse

to go all post-apocalyptic on somebody
when the time comes to defend

what you’re certain you will one day have to
fashion into a kind of afterlife on Earth

because it’s never really a question of if, is it?
But, when?

 

 

 

 

 

 

The longest night

441 Replies
The longest day of the year came and went
and while the sun hung in the sky
then stretched lazily down over the horizon
taking its sweet time,
I stayed indoors and kept cool
counting the days until your arrival.
 
The longest night of this year
started around ten
then hung around at three am
as the red numbers on my bedside clock
leaned as far as they could into the next.
I stayed in bed
counting your toes in my ribcage
and waiting for your arrival.

My Body // My Warzone: DMZ

384 Replies

if this is a warzone,

I have been conscripted against my will, because

there is no room for beauty

or shared bodies given out of love

in a hellscape of porn

                                        raising boys into men

                                        & men into patriarchy—

 

propaganda gaslighting sisters & mothers

to show daughters

                                   how to wear handcuffs & call them bracelets,

                                   how to kneel & call it standing,

                               & how to make any answer sound like yes.

 

every limb a concession & a de facto border,

every touch negotiated like a treaty,

but only if it’s me asking permission

to define my own borders

without a military installation.

neutral territory is frightening after a war,

                                                        after so many scorched earth campaigns

                                                       & salted fields.

sometimes these lands

are too unstable for building back the constructs of civilization.

sometimes, it’s better to just surrender

                                                                & let nature take back what’s hers.  

Celebration

415 Replies

Celebrate with ribbons!

Red for real religious freedom.
Orange for our shared happiness.
Yellow for your health and mine.
Green for growing harmony.
Blue for brotherhood/sisterhood for all.
Indigo for international peace.
Violet for victory over bigotry.

Celebrate the metaphors for world ideals.

Sofiah Sexton
June 27, 2015