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  Aug 2017 Ryan Hoysan
Charles Bukowski
the house next door makes me
sad.
both man and wife rise early and
go to work.
they arrive home in early evening.
they have a young boy and a girl.
by 9 p.m. all the lights in the house
are out.
the next morning both man and
wife rise early again and go to
work.
they return in early evening.
By 9 p.m. all the lights are
out.

the house next door makes me
sad.
the people are nice people, I
like them.

but I feel them drowning.
and I can't save them.

they are surviving.
they are not
homeless.

but the price is
terrible.

sometimes during the day
I will look at the house
and the house will look at
me
and the house will
weep, yes, it does, I
feel it.
  Aug 2017 Ryan Hoysan
Kaley
You were the realist
Human being

You could say just about anything

Your mind knew no limits

Your tounge spoke the truth

You were a free bird

And now you
Have
Flew.
The passing of a loved one.
Ryan Hoysan Jul 2017
It was only just about four months ago
That a girl from Canada I'd never met
Would steal my heart, a love so whole
My emotions skyrocketing, love so sure
Was followed soon thereafter
With silence and the void
Hearing nothing, not even a whisper
She has seemingly disappeared
Back to the nothingness she came from.
It was about four months ago that I met the person writing as the profile blackrainboots here on HP. We became very close very quickly. She was from a small town in Canada. Any activity and communications from her ceased about maybe a month into the two of us talking and it seemed to be extraordinarily unpronounced. It just seemed weird. If anyone knows her personally or knows what's happened, if anything has indeed happened, please let me know.
  Jul 2017 Ryan Hoysan
Cait Harbs
Don't worry, love,
I know those gates of stone
stand firmly
to guard the most precious parts
of your soul.

I am not here like the others;
not as a warrior
planning a siege
or a strategist
plotting to knock them down.

I respect your walls too much.

You have fought in more wars
than most;
you have been betrayed by more loves
than most could survive -
your walls are the result
of your scars.

So here I stand before you,
my weapons laid down,
my intentions spread out before the Sun,
with nothing in my hands
but open palms,
asking you
to let me in.

Show me, love,
all those terrible,
beautiful
wild flowers
growing in your garden -
I want to do nothing
but paint them to remember,
and carry their fallen petals
safely in my heart.

Open up to me, please,
my love -
I am already yours.
Ryan Hoysan Jul 2017
We as writers have the ability to do many things.
We know how to change the tenses of many different words,
Such as love becoming had loved
And together becomes we were together.
We have the knowledge to change things
From the affirmative to the negative,
Such as we’re in love
To she isn’t in love
Or she is always by my side
To I rarely see her anymore.
We can combine the two
To change something that is happening
To something that might have never even happened,
Such as how will always be in love
Changes to were we ever in love?
And how I love you
Could be flipped to ask
Didn’t you ever love me?
Inspired by many memories from many people. This idea has been occupying space in my head for a few days now... This is the release I have found for it.
  Jun 2017 Ryan Hoysan
Haruharu
The years of being constantly knocked down are forever gone.

No more heart on her sleeve and clenched fists.

The suffocated voice inside her has grown strong.

She speaks louder than ever, and no one dares to go against her.

The fear in her eyes is replaced by vengance.

A fierce, unpredictable rebel is born.

Heading for war.

She's now ready for anything and anyone.

The most beautiful, savage beast anyone has ever laid eyes on.

With fire in her eyes, purple lipstick and Dr. Martens she is now waiting.

To watch her enemies crumble beneath her feet.

And she breaks into that lethal smile of hers that only she possesses.
Another piece of my life story. Time to move on, get stone cold and stand up tall
  Jun 2017 Ryan Hoysan
Zachary William
After a day
of pondering
I flew into
a frenzy,
burning books that
couldn’t help me
and so through centuries
of love poems and stories
I blazed
wondering if this was how the
ghosts who wrote them felt
when they poured out their
souls
and I burned and
I burned and I
burned
until I came to my final
book.
A Dictionary…
And I burned that too
because in it
I could not find words to
adequately describe how you
make me feel.
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