Allá en la calle del olvido
se escuchan voces de vidas lejanas
dicen que el tiempo se detiene
y otros dicen que vieron espectros.

Allá en la calle del olvido
La citas son de 6 a 12
cuando la tarde llega
y se queda la noche.

Allá en la calle del olvido
me saludo una vieja amiga
venia contenta a verme
y nunca dejo de platicar.

Allá en la calle del olvido
la invite a un café
se quedo hasta tarde
pues me dijo con sus ojos
lo que el tiempo a olvidado.

Sí, fue allá en la calle
del olvido donde los
fantasmas se despiden
y otros como yo...
ya saben...  nos despedimos.

Camps Mar 2016

We hold these rainbows to be self-illuminating, that all their colors are created equal and by the minute hand of the clock, that they are well-endowed by some cheap champagne with certain extraterrestrial Lefts, that among these are Virginity, A Love For The Renaissance Period, and The Thrill Of An Increasingly Difficult Game Of Tetris. — That to see these beings, Prisms are strategically placed among the gap between the lines, deriving their telekinetic powers from the consent of those on fire, — That whenever Porcupines should quarrel among themselves about whether or not they are color blind and become destructive in these matters, it is Up to the Auroras to pick up the quill, and to begin their plan for World Domination, making sure to push their celestial cousins to one side and lay little clay men on such lies and such bluntness of mannerism, as to them the Arctic ice will never melt, despite the efforts of their Most Radial Glow. Penmanship, ironically, will dictate that biting the bullet is reason enough to be declared a martyr, something that would not be exchanged for a deflated currency’s worth of low self-esteem and a heaping pile of existentialist crises; and accordingly all experience has shown that angels and men are but disposable commodities much akin to the chips left at the bottom of the bag, all while somebody is out there giving judgmental glances to passport photos. But when a mile-long trail of ants decides to pursue the scents of pharaohs, it invariably forces the same Desert to an absolute Sense of Homeland Security, and it is its right, it is its duty, to throw out the Sphinx with nothing more than a simple eviction notice, and to provide new Guards for the future of its civilization. — Such has been the heavy burden of never winning at Chess; and such is now the necessity to take the pieces and rebuild them into their former Castles. The history of Blank Maps is a testimony of those led astray by the charm of settling down and of getting three x’s in a row, all having a direct correlation to the unwavering need of an absolute Exclamation of Imagination. To prove this, just let Rainbows paint the clearest of skies.

The most beautiful girl
in the world
and I
am taking her out to dinner.
She is wearing red tonight,
violet in the evening,
white to bed,
and blue in the morning.

I am inhaling the tropics outside
and through the hotel
My Rosaline,
My love,
you are the most Bel-Air
you will ever be again.

I left my heart there for sure.

-A sunset where you are is lust made visible

"Alternative Facts" the truth belies,
Often in "Fake News" the real truth lies,
"Exaggeration", "Aggrandizing"
In truth are other words for lying.
The value of honesty seems lost,
Sad truth is, at a terrible cost!

To our kids now we must emphasise
That Facts; the Truth, must Always Trump Lies,
That by lying there's nothing to gain;
That Truth cannot be held in disdain.
From lies and untruths all must refrain
To Make America Great Again!

Late night and the bed sheet is a noose
and I haven’t slept since November
and I toss and turn in the grey hum of grief--counting votes like sheep
and the nightmare won’t let go of me
and I don’t know who to trust
cause even the un-trustworthy don’t
know who they are
or recognize themselves in each other
and I like fewer and fewer people
in this rural town
and my PTSD is back
and I can attest to that.  

And I think:  This is how those folks in Dallas felt the day evil grew legs and walked along
Elm Street.

And what weighs more:  A hundred votes or a hundred bullets?

And you ruined my America and,
no…I won’t forgive you.                      

By:  evelyn augusto                               November 15th 2016






A faint scent, that of a

wetted perfume, arises from the

body that’s writing there

in a white enameled bathtub

a body shuffled by the sub

way– a pen in hand

not using another purple hand

soap. It ponders on the people’s

purple perfume lathered on their faces

“Smile good, else we’re all ashes”

Wet hair, naked breasts

all seen on T.V and billboards

Silence– rarely heard in between

the pen’s strokes. Hands between thighs

purple faces buried there

in a white enameled bathtub.

Water drained, in the middle, drenched bills

Cover up the laughed at body of the economy

Feed her with Monsanto and let her hear Trumpets.

A faint scent arises from the American

Body that’s… drowning there

a silky hand of… blue ribbons of… politics

gripping at her panicked throat!

In a Lyon bathtub paper and pencil, October, 16, 2017
Travis Dixon Oct 28

With that incredible brain in his skull,
he drags this country through the mud
like a child drags his blanket.
His enormous, mighty hands grasp
impetuously at his phone to plop out
turd-like tweets to his army of bots.
That statuesque frame, upon which his ill-fitting
cheap suits drool down, stumbles around courses
in search of new ways to lie about his lies.
And his striking eyes, squint and squirrel away the truth,
deep in the soul of his heart, which is bigly, and grate (we know).
Oh, we know, Donald. We know. It’s hard to ignore
such an enormous heart as yours. So big indeed,
that this country needs to get out from under its weight
before the inevitable cardiac arrest. It’s a democratic test,
while the Feds investigate all the best people
hired to sell off this country’s assets
to net the richest more riches.

They're the men and women
Of a nation that's grand
Having the freedom to travel
Anywhere in the land

They often support
A different party of choice
Yet, faced with injustice
They'll protest with one voice

They disdain acts of racism
And preachers of hate
Their leaders never regard them
As wards of each state

They're quick to defend
Any cause that is just
They don't fear police,
But see them as ones to trust

They seek and find justice
In a court that's supreme
Their great 'Bill Of Rights'
Was their forefathers dream

They stand ready to serve
If their country need call
Even willing to die
To assure it won't fall

Many cultures and colors
And religions you'll find
Have been joined as 'one people'
And agree as 'one mind'

That they'll pledge to allegiance
And do all that they can
To preserve the greatest country
Founded on freedom for man.

These Are Americans

This was written for a high school project, the assignment was to create a poem on something you believe strongly in. This is how I saw Americans back in the 90s.
Thomas Conlan Oct 19

A Dotard deals directly with death
His empty head wastes it’s breath
Fire and fury; war and worry
Life lost like a blink of an eye
A flash in the dark and then we die
Another murder on the news
Black, white, Muslims, Jews
Fears of terror on the rise
Weapons of sizeable lies
Pray for Paris, stand with me
Pray in public for people to see
We’ll send our thoughts, a share, a like
And we’ll declare another drone strike
Tears shed for the injured and dead
For every white city stained red
Another elementary school mess
Caused by a child’s carelessness
Or some psycho having fun
With the barrel of his gun
A classroom of souls sit silent
Victims of a life so violent
Education spent on waging war
Using the pockets of our poor
America’s defence, say the boasters
Our children, new age holsters

A mother explains the world to her son
That’s ruled under finger and gun
Until a time when tragedy hits here
We all live life, paralyzed in fear
A world in decay and that’s okay
Because her child won’t ever know
The sky on fire raining ash-like snow
Won’t ever see the rising sea
Will not hear the screams of the free
As they rally together for peace
And are rained down on by police
Higher he will have to rise
Higher, after he dies
No longer burdened by the blow of living
In a time of eternal unforgiving
Plunged into a nightmare, he screams
Softly, slowly, delved into drowning dreams
As his mother stands above
Holding him under with love
A monster, a fiend they’ll see
An American reality
Another victim of violence
A soul becomes silence
Hearts break, tears are shed
Out of jealousy for the dead
For all the world’s war and strife
He’s just another casualty of life
On the news, a leading millionaire
Offering a thought and prayer

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