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 Aug 2018 D Lowell Wilder
Khoi
We're not rawhide like cowboys
But we like denim too you know
Braun vs brains nothing personal I guess we all like denim too
 Aug 2018 D Lowell Wilder
Khoi
Hippin and hop insync
Dub'n on a slip disc......
inc
Boyz on a spliffdrift blink

Neighbours heard a sound
Da beat of  a town
Running on gold and bling

Players on a pound
of bullets

One man down  
Millimetre round

DEAF in a sound of
bullets

Sherrif''s no clown
Laying it down
The law''s gonna beat you
Pound  for  pound

Players on a round of
Bullets

One man down
Millimetre sound

DEAD in a pound of
Bullets
Guns and bullets ****
01/08/2018
A green pond
In a leafless park
Held with an iron bond
His stagnant equilibrium.

©LazharBouazzi, 5 August, 2018
 Aug 2018 D Lowell Wilder
Boi
Today I dreamt of rain
And I couldn't help but feel nostalgic
The kind where you don't know
what you're nostalgic about
I guess.. I really miss that weather
kiss me in your backseat
like nothing has ever been like this before
'cause you kiss like a promise
like you have never wanted anything more
than me

and just maybe, i'm crazy about you baby
and i guess it's a mess but i've always loved messy
things

and with your lips on my neck, i feel like the best is yet to come
and with my heart on my sleeve, i hope you can see it beats like a drum

and i'm wrapped around your finger and my gaze might just linger on your face
and i can't help but notice what we've made of this moment in this place

is beautiful
you're beautiful.

in the streetlights, with your brown eyes looking into my heart
hold me tighter, with your bright lights lighting up the dark
you're lighting up
i wanna give you wild love, the kind that never slows down
the smell before it rains and the taste of that first sip of tea in -20 degrees

the slow untangling of your thoughts with every beat of the drum, the way the wind blows right through you just enough to move you forward and never enough to blow you down

the sound of typing fingers when you know you're onto something good, the feeling of your own, and finally not his, skin

the seasons are changing and baby so are you / six senses are helping you develop into someone new
enjoy the little things, because those tend to leave the quickest
Fog
I.

No, don't go now. Please
don't go now; the fog is creating ghosts
out of people and we're breathing clouds out of our mouths.
Tell me about that time when you held your breath
under the lake for six years and still survived;
tell me how if I do that, it'll never work.
I'm not a sea God
any more.


II.

My knees tell better stories than my tongue
ever did, please don't; wretched hive harangues
the mind in a plague, can't you see I'm holding you down
and telling you you're all I ever wanted,
you're all I ever wanted; your head is the stuff of dreams
you're all I ever wanted; you can put your arm
right through me and only feel mist;
I am fog. I'm creating ghosts out of you.

III.

Make it up to me in a rainbow of hues of grey;
at the end of it I'm holding my ribs open. I've never
been more colourful and sad at the same time.
You're the mirrors to my house; stay
has always sounded better than don't go

yet neither seems to work anymore.
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