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Ryan Bowdish Nov 2012
The lives we've chosen are leaving us broken
(Do you need your)
Crammed in a corner, don't speak unless spoken to
(Blue screen covers?)
December's coming close to reignite the ghosts
Of elder superstition, mythology becomes religion again!

Marry me, my darling
We've only seconds left to go
I know I'm not the life of the party
But no one here wants to die alone!

Let sleeping dogs lie! You're kicking a
Dead horse!
To arms! To arms! To arms!
Left wing and sou-souwest.

Cheers to the masses for forgetting the past
(Sticks and stones)
Beautifully passive, raising our glasses
(This is our home)
I want to ignite you, that's why I'm spiteful
And loathing your masters, hiding in laughter!

So walk away, you harlot.
Far too tired to give you time
You're not worth the effort I made to hide in
My hope for the world to split

Let sleeping dogs lie! You're kicking a
Dead horse!
To arms! To arms! To arms!
Bury our fears in our outlets.

Last call before we close the door
Just wait until the power's down
Let it be known coast to coast
What we've hidden underground.
Drive a hatchet into your front door,
Inside us all is warrior bone
Burn up all your televisions
Destroy all your telephones!
The future shall not be distorted
No crime shall go unreported
Give it to them as you found it
Without homes, without a sound!
I'll give my words, shut up and listen:
The old ways died and no one missed them,
Don't you see your hallucinogens
Are no excuse for ignorance?

Let sleeping dogs die. You're kicking a
Burnt bridge.
To arms! To arms! To arms!
Behold the 22nd.
Ryan Bowdish Nov 2012
Forgiveness is divine.
We certainly are not.

They find it so hard to do right.
Prove it, you.

You.

No, you.

I have nothing but remorse for this
Rather be dead.
Leave me alone.
But tell me first.
Ryan Bowdish Oct 2012
This anguish is so unreal. I forgot it was there.
I never needed anything as badly as I need to stop this.
I'm so scared of myself now.
I need to relax but my thoughts keep reeling back
To the end of the night.
Screaming at you? I wasn't even angry.

I'm sorry I scared you, too.
Ryan Bowdish Oct 2012
So I've been a little hermit lately. Kind of a homebody. Sociophobic.
I have been missing you so much.
I remember we used to be attached at the hip, the soul. Our faces on underpasses.
We had all we could do. It was only you.

Now you act almost like we're different. You act like we just passed each other by.

My acquaintance.
I remember how you smell. Exactly how you smell.
I can never look at a person who shares your name and think of them
"The Usual Way,"
How I Am Supposed To Look At Them.
How I Am Supposed To Look At You.

You don't understand my anguish anymore, do you?
I guess not, but I forgive you. Your life is big, too.
But avoiding the truth won't make it untrue.
We may be young but we've both lost our youth.
This trend is not old, this love is not new.

I miss you. I hate to repeat myself, but...
I really do.

Do you still think of me, too?
I hope so.

Because these signals will never go out.
Those Everlasting moments
Memorized always.
Ryan Bowdish Jun 2011
Johnson, go ahead and holster your weapon:
The threat here is long gone.
My body used to be a temple,
Now it's more like a time bomb.
My words are honest outbreaks,
...My list of fears is long.
And after-hours of outtakes
Lead me to this song...

There are days when I want to be you
Days when I don't want to be, there are
Long nights of lonely reminders
Of what you mean to me.
There are times when I freeze myself to the bed-frame
And convince myself I'm free
And sometimes it seems convincing:
The idea of you leaving.

No. This is not the end, I fear, my love.
No. This is just the tip of the iceberg.
Yes. And when the tears begin to pile up.
I will give you this friendly reminder:

I've dropped all sorts of crutches, I've had all sorts of dreams
I've felt the tension in you when you resented me.
Threw my brain at all my problems and now I'm truly free.
Free to be alone when I don't want to be:

I painted this for you. I painted this for me.
This glass is like a mirror defining unity.
No more shaking heads, just laughing silently...
I won't put out these searchlights.
I love you, still, Dear, E.
For Emma.
Ryan Bowdish Jun 2011
Staring into stars, the lonely people drink their tears
And genuflect to empty car parks and swallow their fears
Like Ernest Hemingway, they grit their teeth and laugh
******* a pocket bullet, contemplating aftermath
And the shadows bend and grow…
And the embers shine below.

Geared for success, the lonely boy begins to starve
His chest heaving from stress, his wish for waterfall in cars
Freeways self-entitled, forcing ants into the gutter
While a lonely father cries and the boy freezes and sputters
And the doorway opens up
As the mouth is finally shut.

“I’m not mad, son, you’ve only disappointed me”
Father, point the way for me, where is my life leading?!
Should I sacrifice my happiness for a chance at succeeding?
Should these calloused hands be empty, do I need a beating?

You need to straighten up your tie and keep your noses clean.
My mother’s eyes in moonlight silently judging me
Inhumanity, why don’t you rule these streets?
I bite my bottom lip and gaze down at my feet
Lumped chunk of nicotine
Pushing itself out of me.

I want to stop blending rainwater with my leaking eye-sockets,
Crying for another with which to share my gold locket,
Tossing and turning, wondering where I will be next
And for God’s sake, can I do it, am I trying my very best!?

Why can’t I get up on time like every normal human being?
Why do I always get sick, why do my guts hate me?
Why are all my joints always crackling and aching?
I never want to live, don’t ever try to save me!

“I’m not mad, son, you’ve only disappointed me”
Father, point the way for me, where is my life leading?!
Should I sacrifice my happiness for a chance at succeeding?
Should these calloused hands be empty, do I need a beating?

Staring into stars, the lonely people sit and smile
Counting all the faces staring back, retracing miles
Celestial serenity, striving for an energy
Never needing inquiry, embracing the no thing!

Should these calloused hands be empty?
Do I need a beating?
Will these pruning hands deceive me?
This Universe is in me.
Title thanks to Yoni Wolf, inspiration from Why's "This Blackest Purse"

ALSO, LET IT BE KNOWN THAT THIS POEM IS ALSO APART OF MY "MELLOW D'S" COLLECTION. THERE IS NO PLAGIARIZING HAPPENING, JUST TWO SEPARATE ACCOUNTS FOR THE SAME ARTIST. -Ryan Bowdish
Ryan Bowdish Mar 2011
Your nose scrunches up in normal conversation. It makes you look a little bit like a piglet.
Trust me, that may sound like a backhanded compliment, but it's adorable.

When you yawn, you sound like you want to cry.
Nothing freer than you transposing your tears for the sake of singing sad songs,
To Children you've never met, as if you've never slept.
We're both a little too sure about what we eat, and
The times you sit on your hands are the days when your guts moan...

[Others would call these imperfections, but the little things are always the best parts...
Birds flapping their wings (hollow arm-bones)
Tree-roots burrow and anchor (lungs)
Grass pets your eyes]

Always busy, the words form on the tip of our toes, everything I say
Is written with our silhouettes.
Outlines pigment the natural world...
Like a horror-show,
Hallways stretch for hours
(I can not currently see out this window).

Your open sockets spill waterfalls of true understanding from a crimson sunset of genius scars,
Like open wounds of the best silence, only the sound of teeth clashing
Between stretching lips
You hook your palms into my cheeks, bones creak
Gazes reflecting thoughts, unity in unmerited shame,
Our legs conversing softly, hair intertwined (snakes on our necks), and all night...
I keep playing a triplet between your ribs
A simple arpeggio archway under moans from dead skin in light,
I hold you by the red skin, carve you, for just one moment
Until we're living art. Skin static, roots spreading wings.

No expiration date for us, just a point when our bodies no longer parallel
But after that, we speak in clouds
We paint murals for each other in abandoned city parking lots
Or empty train halls.
The moon is our vanishing point,
All eyes on craters.

My language is something undiscovered to me,
I don't know if I want to let all these words go.
You mean Reincarnation to me,
Some jaw of life, some whale's mouth.
I am snow.

Everything loses focus but the stars...

Like teenagers.
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