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kenny-brown
Great with a couple pieces missing, I think their tied to my toes trailing behind in the deep snow. Dooon't weep don't weep. God isn't mute she's just not speaking right now & that's okay Everything is frozen Nothing is over We wake up to the smell of burnt coffee and stale beer It's a new year And i'm hearing static in the grape vines of paranoid minds that jumble lines and fumble over mines like "it's cool, i like my feet ****** Muddy muddy muddy afternoons Lets clear this debt to our projections of the future and settle down They sleep now I drink an endless tea cup researching the prescribed method for sewing two moments to one palm and tattooing remain calm on the other We danced in the garden, danced with beetles & birds & one soul and i'm glad you didn't see it cause your hole would be twice the size of mine right now Was that me? Were those my hands sitting in a tree cutting vines to tie together clever lines and mixed wether into a raft to sail until these mountains of burning plastic are all behind? Out of sight...i must have been but i can't sap anymore, or feel the chlorophyl running down my fingers. Out of sight and the smokes still here Out of sight Now where did my pillow run off to tonight? Rest your head on this rock when you need to. I know you haven't been tired this february, but you will be & when that time comes i want you to rest your head on this rock This chest I'll be laying in the sand ready for you to open me up Code me, i'm a program waiting for the enter key But who are you? That face has changed Weight lost and knowledge gained More and less alone than we feel A pale mist settles on my chest hair while I lay in a morning field there's nothing to worry about From holes, mice scurry in and out It's scary when i shout without intending but now the airs hair is warm and alive and the ending of that rain is over That reign that impregnated the headlines and airwaves That reign that tied us to benches facing away from each other and the truth That reign that kept us creeping through suburb streets, passed midnight, passed freezing, passing one last American Spirit that slowly kills us and drowns our voices in sticky tar That reign is over for today I know it's your play, but i refuse to play the priest whipping his own back under a lone candle I can handle this if you'd stop making me doubt myself The most kindhearted criticism is a catacomb cataclysm that becomes the only thing to demand you listen I was just just fishin Didn't mean for you to bite Who is right? Who sat up to write all the ways he was wrong one night until the morning?
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Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 7:05 PM UTC
Great With A COuple Pieces Missing
Great with a couple pieces missing, I think their tied to my toes trailing behind in the deep snow. Dooon't weep don't weep. God isn't mute she's just not speaking right now & that's okay Everything is frozen Nothing is over We wake up to the smell of burnt coffee and stale beer It's a new year And i'm hearing static in the grape vines of paranoid minds that jumble lines and fumble over mines like "it's cool, i like my feet ****** Muddy muddy muddy afternoons Lets clear this debt to our projections of the future and settle down They sleep now I drink an endless tea cup researching the prescribed method for sewing two moments to one palm and tattooing remain calm on the other We danced in the garden, danced with beetles & birds & one soul and i'm glad you didn't see it cause your hole would be twice the size of mine right now Was that me? Were those my hands sitting in a tree cutting vines to tie together clever lines and mixed wether into a raft to sail until these mountains of burning plastic are all behind? Out of sight...i must have been but i can't sap anymore, or feel the chlorophyl running down my fingers. Out of sight and the smokes still here Out of sight Now where did my pillow run off to tonight? Rest your head on this rock when you need to. I know you haven't been tired this february, but you will be & when that time comes i want you to rest your head on this rock This chest I'll be laying in the sand ready for you to open me up Code me, i'm a program waiting for the enter key But who are you? That face has changed Weight lost and knowledge gained More and less alone than we feel A pale mist settles on my chest hair while I lay in a morning field there's nothing to worry about From holes, mice scurry in and out It's scary when i shout without intending but now the airs hair is warm and alive and the ending of that rain is over That reign that impregnated the headlines and airwaves That reign that tied us to benches facing away from each other and the truth That reign that kept us creeping through suburb streets, passed midnight, passed freezing, passing one last American Spirit that slowly kills us and drowns our voices in sticky tar That reign is over for today I know it's your play, but i refuse to play the priest whipping his own back under a lone candle I can handle this if you'd stop making me doubt myself The most kindhearted criticism is a catacomb cataclysm that becomes the only thing to demand you listen I was just just fishin Didn't mean for you to bite Who is right? Who sat up to write all the ways he was wrong one night until the morning?
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I’ve been scratching my eyes out, trying to give them to the sandman I’ve got a master plan but I need a hand for support This is no retort, nor the beginning of something great But I ate the fruit and let it’s juices poison me when I caved in to flee instead of leaning on the stronger side of me, traced by a journal entry Centuries before one third had wounds infected by war I’m trying to keep the door open that has a hold on all of my motion No faith in magic potions, might as well drink up Or give up the cup and lay parched and alone These are home grown problems, seeds in my pocket Heart in a locket and I’m fumbling for the key before all chances pass by and hope ceases to be It’s the clear water I’m after, this tap releases murky Work the bad knee, no wheel chair present I’m the pheasant getting shot down by a starving peasant Hit the resin for a light head full of dread I’ve rode spirits down roads that Rome built, don’t come crying to me when the rest of the flowers wilt, or your foot slips cause the stilts are giving out from underneath The air’s lethal better keep an eye on your breath And cherish what you’ve kept cause it will all pass away The mental inspection said not safe to drive Still I strive to pick up the passenger in my dreams The one who leans on another but used to call me lover I’ll hover like a hand for a thousand years And collect my tears so you can shower in them
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Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 6:01 PM UTC
Sandman
Well girl if you’re stable at overflowing Just please let me coast inches I need to sentry how this is growing There’s a tugging at my sleeve, trying to lead me in a cave With a slight incline so not even a torrential wave Could splash safety Yours or mine While our synergy matures like wine It’s in the print of the design that I come across a constant need for repair Bring tools along the way I swear ruts bend your axles Bending backwards can’t twist your posture like her Fur is soft on the skin In a race the fox always wins Reach in to the frothy mixture and pull out a piece of the picture Even though your centered in a fixture a foundation is hard to find It especially distorts the spine at night When the light can’t distract you From the visible glow she radiates Strong enough to contract you
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Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 6:00 PM UTC
If You're Stable at Overflowing
A quick right turn is accompanied by a shiver Which just might balance the quivering intestines. It is best friends, it is best friends…if we Keep our eyes focused on the same horizon, The locus is only half forward, half circled, And it’s almost as if this river is natural.. It’s almost as if it’s course was cut before it’s spring was opened. The salmon drive stealthy…relentless to the pressure, Thinking that in conflict there might emerge something fresher, Fresher than telephone calls with Alice As she faced the looking glass Or the crass manner of reaching for An always-empty chalice. But the shiver in itself was enough to explain his expectations And the gaze of something greater gave him visions of creation Shelter from the storm Her silhouette has him splintered Splintered in hope and doubt that the fates beat the furies
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Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 5:58 PM UTC
A Quick Right Turn
It’s funny how the warmest months cause the most shivers And when light waxes the grain withers. I’ve seen Demeter with arms so white They would cure the night colds, But the morning flew by with leopards leading me Down a trail that’s only wide enough for two. Is this the hallowed path I should walk? Or just some child’s guidelines drawn in chalk. Leopards stalk Which is all that’s left when the fruit is eaten Hobbits feet feel weak on black sand Ravens beaks look strong with an empty hand It’s an annual sense of being suffocated by pressure Earth is above me going forward I’m frigid Children dance for the solstice Three summers past I first wrapped the cast Now it seems as if this will last till day’s stop But the last leaf is inevitably bound to drop
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Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 5:58 PM UTC
Summer Fever
I walk the swamp land with saliva dripping from my jowls, My brother howls at the crocodile ripping its prey. It’s been a long day on the hunt for dry land Where moss is elevated three feet to escape the gripping hand That keeps us grounded in the moisture While our tongues crack like a surrendering oyster. It’s murky; Opaque with sediment. Caws and cackles, rattling drums The search for firewood, four broken thumbs. But um, we’ve just completed a circle And still the sun is setting. Time is permissive
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Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 5:57 PM UTC
I Walk Through the Swamp Land
I’m sorry but I’m out here hunting hearts and I don’t consort with the enemy There’s a vein you see and it needs a constant supply of oxygen I’ve been boxed in with candles All I know how to do is ramble But when I find a place to call Home and a hand to call world That I’ll delicately handle my Course of thought falls right to Shambles (Eh-hem) Sorry, I’m below the surface You can join me, and I mean you not them. If you’re here just keep steady your pen.
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Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 5:56 PM UTC
The Physics of a Tree Branch
You fell asleep on my chest today With my boring words leading you by the ears. I carry a sponge in my pocket for your tears But lately I’ve been using it on myself more. Words shatter when they hit the ground And I realize that I didn’t mean them But it’s too late because you’ve already stepped on the splinters. First blood can’t be drawn without a close second In quarters such as this. A kiss is like anti-venom But I don’t want to be the snake For the sake of preserving our garden. Some diseases aren’t caused by microbes; My lobes have been whittled to an edge Or maybe I was born with an obsidian brain Walking this extensive prison searching for my shard. I will use this curse to guard the hearts of Aztec infidels. Fate is like spilling alphabet soup to see what it spells. I cast spells with unkind words but there’s no divine intervention, It’s me who carries out the prevention of progress. Distracting the problem by removing her dress Makes me feel better and worse at the same time. A tight grip leaves little room in the palm.
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Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 5:55 PM UTC
You Fell Asleep on my Chest Today
Walking through the desert like I’m led by Moses No exit is seen Accompanied by an entrance too distant over my shoulder for the number of steps ((taken)like my dignity when I nod along) It’s clearly been foggy for a while around here The status of not too worried is half successful in covering up the truth We are used to purgatory It’s practically a birthright Wandering is an inescapable theme because it’s an inescapable reality Crab walking on the floors of silent seas
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Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 1:47 AM UTC
Walking through the desert like I’m led by Moses
These days are desperate times. Persephone wandered too deep into the woods And the earth has produced only miscarriages in the second trimester. I’m full-grown curled up in the womb and it’s lost it’s warm. I’m a child curled up in the womb and the walls are worn. I swim at the junction of Acheron and Cocytus Desperately trying to reach the shore, But the currents far too strong. Growing furious, I spot my family paying the fare To board the ferry from Long Island to Connecticut. I am torn asunder and the pieces dissolved Into the cold morning air like evaporating dew. My eyes fall upon a bright red bird, flying in a gyre, Singing praises to it’s open wings, above a pyre. The wood burns, carbonizing the soil to start the cycle
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Mar 8, 2012
Mar 8, 2012 at 11:17 PM UTC
Something Like The Seasons