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Michael Parish Oct 2013
The ancient tacoma grainery,
Stands in a corner of its own now.
Tne dark tunnell still has leggs when
she lets go.
The dock street rail yard fills up the city like a
loaf of hotnsteamy bread.
Farther down our ambitious tycoon
Stacks up condos, wheat pancakes,
Is his breakfast of choice.
They demolished the old elks club.
Which sprung across the street
like a walmart super store.
Blue and yellow is workers vest
perks and all.  Their members still
grase for golfballs off the ten million dollar tees.
There isnt much enjoyment, they'd rather drink.
Last month my two foot clarks walked through the sliding dorrs hospitality.
Wanting to see the high mountain of sucess,
I looked for organic oats.  
My minds to random.
I inch up to the screen and see the faces of migrant workers,
Hang like meat.
After six months in america half the under employed,
Are giving up.
Deported with their children.
My hope still goes out to the college students.
And their first morgage of inflamatory dough.
They all buy up every job still hoping for change.
No marrijuana in public,
Get away while the officers turn their backs,
With their guns to pepper a face.
In the taxing store.
Im afraid we smoked heavilly.
Love to the workers,
Love to their vests.
Everythings devoliping to quick.
My new bike slices by cars of ritz crackers.
Everthings been built to last.
There nothing left to buil on,
Only a few vacent lots that wait for tresspassers.
One man dives through a trash can and isnt scared.
He picks out a hamburger bun and eats his lunch.
K Balachandran Jan 2012
blame it on the  warped yard sticks,
a problems we often overlook,
not in every case , I am convinced,
about the idea of winning and loosing.
at the end came an announcement,
the one supposed to have won,
and the looser were presented,
but, looking at the spirit and
exaulted state
that points to the higher consciousness,
one felt convinced, the declared looser
has really won.
looser, astonishingly was gracious
that he could have the experience,
that counted more than wearing the laural
with a vacent smile.
what if someone has won,
and that has no consequence
on none, except the one
who beams believing
winning is the greatest thing.
Livi M Pearson May 2016
Glance a gentle stare
That causes the skin to be bare
Tender to the lightest touch
Or a ginger smile
Dance in grace on a ballroom tile
Bid thee a moonlit dream
Silence my empty scream
Deaf be not the star
Black be not the tar upon ones heart
Only the sweet delight
Of ones sight
Can dissever my bond from misery
Will solve the crude mystery
Behind ones intent to remove the soul
Destroy all memories of a summers stroll
Longing for a few days
Dark skies instead of sun rays
Drown the candle in mourning
Be grateful instead of yearning
Opening vacent hands doesn't compesate
Until you let your pain
Evaporate
Letting it go is the only way

— The End —