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Cigarette butts lay wasted on the ground,
Burnt up,
Like an old man coming home at the end of the day with a frown,

His retirement funds aren't really up to scratch,
So he has to keep working,
Working to feed the alcoholic addiction that eases the pain in his back,

The yard work is well overdue,
For his brittle home,
Through a white paint chipped windowsill view,
Like a graveyard tombstone,  

He vaguely remembers the days under the summer time sun,
But enjoyed the colder winters,
Watching snow fall,
Exhaling smoke from his lungs,
Climbing the fence getting wood chipped splinters,

He's in the shopping centre looking for the simple milk, baked beans and bread,
Everyone's moving past him at such fast pace, with shoulders bumping into him
And no one turns a head,
To say sorry or to explain why the fast race,

He walks along a path in his home town,
Picking up things from his past,
His memory is in pieces like broken bottles that lay wasted on the ground,
Treading over broken glass,

I don't know where to end this poem,
I guess you can say he spent the rest of his days on his porch watching the cars go past,
Smoking cheap cigars,
And taking sips of scotch from his father’s silver embroidered flask.
cigarette smoke was everywhere
ping pong ***** flying over and under
every time you turn the corner, shots are happening

beer is spilling and so is the liquor

so are your words
you were wasted by how you slurred your words

it was so easily to fall in love with you, while you inhaled that cigarette that was mine
and how to sipped your drink

then the girl came over and sat right on you and started sticking her tongue down your throat

after that i never saw you that night of the party
 Dec 2013 Ryan Topez
Nat Lipstadt
After reading about some tribal warfare in a far away land, I wrote this true story down. Now re-published every year on this day. Seems more appropriate than ever

one July 4th,
many years ago
walking the streets,
of the city of Nice,
situe on the Cote D'azur of France,
on the Mediterranean Sea,
where ships of navies
may safely park their sailors,
sending them ashore for R&R,^
they, leavened to disembark^^

how I came to be there is a
poem for another time

walking the streets,
palm tree resort,
along La Promenade Des Anglais,
coming at me,
Three Sailors,
unmistakably
American

one white,
one black,
one brown from California,
which I believe,
is still part of the USA

how we fell upon each other
in warm embrace,
smiling, bestowing
blessings of grace
not as strangers,
but as fellow signatories
on the Declaration of Independence

brothers,
long lost, reunited,
as if it had been many years,
since we last had our arms entwined,
one family from one far away united place

dialectical differences ignored,
even the wide-eyed 'Bama boy,
totally comprehensible, for on that say,
we spoke a language that
encompassed a single brotherhood,
a common histoire,
all on that
holy day

no tribes in America, no colors,
no religions,
only sisters and brothers-in-arms

I need not choose to believe,
for it is certainty guaranteed,
that should it happen again
twenty years hence,
perhaps with their great grandsons,
my embrace will,
exactly the same be,
for I know it true,
there are
no tribes
in an

American heart
^ Rest and recreation
^^disembarked to be leavened....either ok

written in 2013, but true story that occurred many years prior
how timely for this day and time
 Dec 2013 Ryan Topez
Molly Hughes
Hello little girl,
hidden inside me,
I'm sorry we can't play.
My Barbie's were thrown out years ago,
there's not a teddy bear in sight.
Now who do I hold close at night?

Hello little girl,
hidden inside me,
I'm sorry I have to push you away.
My face screams nineteen,
my rib cage whimpers
child.
You must be getting lonely.
At least we have that in common.

Hello little girl,
who wants to paint all day,
play hopscotch and swing high as a bird,
no,
high as the moon,
on the swing set.
I'm sorry my feet are firmly on the ground.
These decisions are too hard to make
and you must be frightened.
Shall we paint a rainbow or paint a storm?

Hello little girl,
hidden inside me,
I'm sorry this is goodbye.
The photos and videos
will help me remember,
but I must start to walk
without anybody holding my hand.
You'll be okay.
You'll be alright.

Hello little girl,
hidden inside me.
It's time to grow up.
You know its 5am when you hear the birds start to chirp,
And the sound of water boiling for my dads morning coffee,
I can’t keep my eyes closed,
All my thoughts seem to stop me,

All night they've been running through my head,
I start to think,
A thousand miles and hour,
Things like, "figure life out Dylan",
You need will power, to succeed,
But not to the point where my mind is corrupt by money and greed,
And all the hate that comes with its need,
Or should i say want,

We make the important things obscure,
And blow up which celebrity is on drugs and lost,
Which diamond rings are new in stock,
And how many lives they cost, each,
I think its sick, teens wanting an eating disorder and being malnourished because its
"Hot"?
No wonder i can’t sleep.
 Dec 2013 Ryan Topez
Molly Hughes
If I am as cold,
as empty,
as lonely as I think I am right now,
how much colder,
emptier
and lonelier will I really get if I truly
be myself?
Winter doesn't last forever.
The ice will melt.
I can put on a jumper,
wrap round a scarf.
And maybe,
just maybe,
I'll actually get a little warmer.
Maybe,
just maybe,
I'll see the sun.
 Dec 2013 Ryan Topez
Jeremy Bean
Many live to love
but love is killing me
I can not seem to fill the hole
where my heart used to be
I wish I was oblivious
from knowing it exists
as i did once before
all those little trysts
My eyes gazed upon beauty
and all its majesty
now I can not seem
to focus past the ugly
I can only plea
for naivete
Not even time can free my mind
from all of its bindings.
All the dogs seem to bark as i trespass,
Treading on dirt and broken glass,
And other miscellaneous things from my past,
My shoes absorb the moisture from the dew on the wet grass,
And i wonder how much Adrenalin the sirens will bring,
If they do ring, i hope enough to get away,
To wake in my bed the next day,

As i walk, i look to the city lights,
You! May call this criminal activity,
But to me and my friends these were prime nights,
I reminisce of a time or two,
But only time will tell,
What life i choose.
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