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Corey Boiko Apr 12
There I stood,
early in The fall,
Cornered on this:

The white Man walking
signals cross,
Whilst the red hand
Stops my steps.

This crosswalk
Calls up my thoughts,
In essence, a certain
Reminiscence,
A concerning
Re-occurring instance.

Was this not
How an empire rose?
Flourishing until,
Red, white, and bruised,
It must inevitably
collapse and corrode?

This is an ordinary corner,
But it talks
from the other side of the sidewalk,
I come across thoughts.
Corey Boiko Feb 25
Do not set one up to fail,
   then let them go (if they do).

Giving love is
    letting one go.
Receiving love is
    one coming home.

Fantasy is having both or
    mistaking half for whole.
Corey Boiko Jul 2020
I finally found a way
To tear my gaze away.
I read all day
In preparation.

Then my eyes blurred all kinds,
I was
so
used
to type.

And I smiled,
Without regard to if
It
was
returned.

I saw my
Conditional
Friendliness
Obscured.
Corey Boiko Dec 2019
In my eyes i see evil,
A window depicting
A devil beside me.

I couldn't see though him,
As i hurried through the rain.
His reflection stained dry
Just inside the glass.

A man slowly writhing,
tossing, and turning,
Tattered soaked clothing,
On a dampened cardboard bed,
On the wrong side of the glass.

There he suffers,
Feet from salvation,
My train station.

A shiver passes through me
As i enter this cathedral of a station,
Population: one bulletproof guard,
Ensuring that i am not bothered
By the sickening feeble,
****** and outside.
But that does bother me.

Is there no church
In this place of momentum,
On the greener side of the glass,
Where we do not stop moving?
Thanks To Eunoia for reading this before it was ready, and helping me choose a title!
Corey Boiko Sep 2019
I've been wondering
How to want what i need,
Pondering how to
Say what I mean,
How to not plant trees,
Instead, to sow a seed.

How I could listen
Instead of talk.
How i could show
A bean, a beanstock.
How we might one day grow
From raindrops to mighty oaks.

So why is it
That I've taken us here?

And how is it
that 'us' has little to do
with you and me?
And What marks the cycles
Of an Acorn to a tree?

So why is it
That I've taken us here?

And how is it
That 'where i've taken us'
Has little to do with 
You and i
Going somewhere,
Side by side. 

No strings attach
My moon to your tide,
And the ground is softer
On the other side,
So let the wind,
A breath, a sigh
Sweep you up,
Be brave more than shy.
The world is much brighter
If you fall far from my side.
Corey Boiko Aug 2017
I forget what I forgot,
But at least remember that.
Hold on, I think I got it!
I'm looking for my hat.
I must've left it someplace,
but can't recall quite where.
I scratch my head, Eureka!
The hat was on my hair.

I've got to get this down,
or forget again, I fear.
So I check for a pencil,
write behind my ear.
There I find my glasses,
out of sight for years!
Now I see it clearly,
No wait, it disappeared.

I forget if I forgot.
Was I already here?
Inspired by true events, written in the style of Shel Siverstein
Corey Boiko Jun 2017
I met a girl in France,
Reading the same book!



Except it wasn't quite like that...

So my book turned into a cover.

It seemed I had picked up some thing mesmerizing,
While browsing a train station bookstore.

This tale of desire and loss enticed me,
But wasn't it just cheap fiction?

--------------------------------------------------

A girl met me in France,
And we got an empty beach at sunset!



Except it wasn't quite like that...

Trash littered the closing beach
closest to downtown Marseilles.

Loud speakers played
Something upbeat,
Missing its bass,
confusing it.

Even the sky was obscured.
But wasn't it still like that?
true story
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