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ryn  Oct 2014
Bottoms Up!
ryn Oct 2014
Looks like you need a drink...
What'll it be, let me think...

One thing you should know, Little Miss,
I'm not a bartender... I'm just winging this...

Hmm...
Arc in a cocktail shaker
Filled halfway up
Throw Melz in the mix
Just a dollop

Let's see now...
Spoonful of rhymes
Make that a table
Few drops of Conor
If he's up and able

Almost ready...
A touch of Tea
Maybe a tad more
A dose of Frank
In a little pour

Just about done...
Cap it up
Shake that shaker
Pour it out
Top with Silver

Ahh...
In a cocktail glass
Now sprinkle with Dani
Let's not stinge
Sprinkle aplenty

There you go, Hon... Take a full swig
When you see the bottom, your pain wouldn't seem so big...
The way that people think sometimes makes me sick
The way we criticize so hard and judge so quick
Before you judge me look in the mirror
All of the sudden things become much clearer.

You just see face and the hair, lips and the eyes
But I know all your secrets and I know your lies
If you look closer you will see
That deep down you’re no better than me.

I see past the make up for what you really are
Just a regular person covering a scar
Hidden in your mind, a place you don’t go
Memories and things you’d rather people don’t know.

We all have those secrets buried deep inside
Things that we’d do almost anything to hide,
We try to cover with makeup clothes and that certain grace
But when you look in the mirror it’s staring you in the face.

You can put on the act and the makeup too
But I can see right through you,
You’re just another girl wanting to be accepted
Fearing the burn of being rejected
Falling into the trap of mindless trends
Just envied by your friends
Thinking that once you got it then you’re in
But you still feel the emptiness from within.

So foolish so blind people can be
Take off those colored contacts and you’ll see.
~The blankets are on
but the sheets still fall off
maybe it's time to fold
and get on up
.
dreams are over, wake up
Eleanor Sinclair Sep 2018
Here I am laying, filling my head
At 3 A.M rerunning every word I have said
I suppose my tears are the blood from my soul
Happy or sad it overflows out of me and I can’t seem to feel whole
I don’t want to die anymore because things aren’t too bad
But I’m tired constantly and I miss my mom and dad
That’s the thing about being an adult
You make the tough decisions yourself and if they’re wrong it’s your fault
You choose right from wrong and no one is there to tell you otherwise
No one is there to catch you in your lies or wipe the stream of tears from your eyes
Momma isn’t there to hold your hair when you *****
Daddy isn’t there to point to the sky at the comets
It’s more like a hollow and dark lonely place
Days feel like years yet weeks seem to race
I suppose we take for granted our youthful state
We don’t know what we have until it’s a little too late
I’d give anything to go back to a day before loans
Spend a day with my family before I wanted to become skin and bones
Give my brother a hug and tell him I care
Tell my father that the things he calls my mother are wrong and unfair
Play with my dog before the cancer took him away
Show up to work with enthusiasm as though it was my first day
See my town like I did through an adolescent lens
Bike through my neighborhood to the house that once was my friend’s
Run in the yard and climb that one crooked tree
Relive the trip to the forest that ended with bees
Laugh at myself when I fell off my bike
Not take myself so seriously and be willing to admit who’s right
Tell my sister “thank you” for yelling at me to not speak English
She kept me fluent and that was her wish
Go trick or treating from door to door
“Here’s some candy, would you like some more?”
My eyes fill with liquid nostalgia as they sparkle and close
My head bobs and nods as I catch it then doze
I miss the world before it got complex
Before I had to worry about what came next
I’d live for a day at the age of ten
Before things began to hurt and I was mistreated by men
I’d watch the stars with Jessica and talk about life
I’d give her a hug after a sleepover and get back on my bike
Pedaling home in the cool fall breeze
Everything was simpler back then and I took it for granted with ease
I wish to go back to a time almost half my life ago
I wake from my sleep to realize it can't be so
Bryan Dahl  May 2018
Bottom Up
Bryan Dahl May 2018
Street performers.

Busking. Panhandling. Begging.

An artist’s most submissive position.

Music’s all-powerful mystery beholden to pocket change.

Until a blind man, guitar in hand,

On the Blue Line platform,

Plucks from an unsuspecting heart

An unmistakable theme-

“What can you say about a 25-year-old girl who died?”

One bill and some coins in his collection basket,

A mysterious, gentle reminder-

Dynamics come wholly undone.

I drop in my all-powerful dollar,

All aboard the train.

Down here, I will

Write for the first time in nearly three years.
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