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ashby-brownPoems
Red parking sign Car in a lie Man in step Here, we once wept Rolling down the road Got nowhere else to go Silver wheel fantasy Baby, make me believe Whispering nineteen Beneath the silver screen Her button nose wiggled As the stars outside wrinkled Fresh air reflects the sunsets arm's I swear I don't mean any harm Lost in the street where no one goes Screeching North - the home of the black crows Golden lace and lavender perfume Plaintive stares from battling cartoons I picture of a man sits in front of me He stares behind me where it is free Blackball corner pocket with hints of Pinot Everyone has the chance to become their own wino Heaven hangs above our heads like a child's toy When did God become so ********* coy? I play dead in the current of the river Waiting for no one to claim me the winner A fresh start is a promise no one can fulfill On the window rests a blue bottles of pills Libraries are burning The volcanoes are yearning For a sacrificial lamb Who can't write their name in the sand That tiny room of yours Painted yellow and mold Seagulls outside the window Chewing on starfish sinew Shout at that pearly fingernail moon And whistle your favorite ***** tune Hold that knife close tonight I got a feeling nothing ain't right Over the bridge onto a barren highway All I can see are flashing red lights parting Tops down in fifth gear with a suicide case Rolling her fingers over a thing of a mace Liquified fear vanishes from the shirt shot I tell you, some happiness can be bought The streets are clashing in a cultural battle of bass The ****** can only keep up with this pace We are the wounded creations of a battleground Caught between bullets and mortar rounds Interest stirs underneath our feet like an earthquake Shrugging, not giving a **** if we make a mistake
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Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 8:07 PM UTC
Four Legged' Nights
Red parking sign Car in a lie Man in step Here, we once wept Rolling down the road Got nowhere else to go Silver wheel fantasy Baby, make me believe Whispering nineteen Beneath the silver screen Her button nose wiggled As the stars outside wrinkled Fresh air reflects the sunsets arm's I swear I don't mean any harm Lost in the street where no one goes Screeching North - the home of the black crows Golden lace and lavender perfume Plaintive stares from battling cartoons I picture of a man sits in front of me He stares behind me where it is free Blackball corner pocket with hints of Pinot Everyone has the chance to become their own wino Heaven hangs above our heads like a child's toy When did God become so ********* coy? I play dead in the current of the river Waiting for no one to claim me the winner A fresh start is a promise no one can fulfill On the window rests a blue bottles of pills Libraries are burning The volcanoes are yearning For a sacrificial lamb Who can't write their name in the sand That tiny room of yours Painted yellow and mold Seagulls outside the window Chewing on starfish sinew Shout at that pearly fingernail moon And whistle your favorite ***** tune Hold that knife close tonight I got a feeling nothing ain't right Over the bridge onto a barren highway All I can see are flashing red lights parting Tops down in fifth gear with a suicide case Rolling her fingers over a thing of a mace Liquified fear vanishes from the shirt shot I tell you, some happiness can be bought The streets are clashing in a cultural battle of bass The ****** can only keep up with this pace We are the wounded creations of a battleground Caught between bullets and mortar rounds Interest stirs underneath our feet like an earthquake Shrugging, not giving a **** if we make a mistake
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ashby-brown
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 8:07 PM UTC
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