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Brett Jul 19
Summer ice box, bolted to the block like a hustler’s ambition.
King of the corner. Hand to hand to every family man or,
A fiends fever dream. Metal mattress for the meek.
Chill spot on the streets,
For a late-night congregation of labeled freaks;
To people passing by at least.
Neighborhood staple. A practicing painters graffiti canvas.
Crowned with empty coffee cups turned bank accounts for the beggar.
Bent from stray bullets, but never broken.
Stalwart, abandoned bodegas
But the ice box remains.
The signature of a city that speeds away, but
Will never change.
Martin Boško Jun 27
Come forward, traveller, we have what you seek
Just ask your question and listen as we speak
Our riddles are easy for those with bright mind
The clever soon know if their stars are aligned
We offer great wisdom, all futures we see
We know all that once were and all that will be
Apollo sings us his beautiful songs
All He says happens, he's never wrong
So visit our temple, and sooth there your soul
'cause those who know answers are the ones that feel whole
Haruharu Jun 27
An old enemy turned into clarity.
In the silence I hear my truth.
The winds carry my voice,
from lifetimes ago.
Ancient wisdom purifies my soul.
I now choose to listen.

Beyond the noice, I hear life.
Chris Saitta May 17
I failed to love round, but fallen flat,
My head slumps down, over an ancient map,
My eyes roll back, over the mappa mundi verge,
Where waterfalls purl, and the sea serpent-sleep lies curled.
Mappa mundi are surviving Medieval maps of the world that often depicted sea monsters and dragons.  In spite of a common belief, most educated Medieval classes did not think the earth was flat (known as the Flat Earth myth) nor did most scholars from the classic Greek period on.  Similarly, no old world map contains the exact phrase “Here Be Dragons” to connote uncharted territories, though dragons and sea monsters often allegorically depicted the same.
TomDoubty Apr 12
They burst upwards

All around this evening

There and there and there

Trees, Trees, Trees

Smashing through soil

To a darkening sky

Limbs and fingers and hands

Trunk and twig

Coiling coronaries

Pressed to the sky’s last



Earths loud art

Not solemn

Not peace filled

This evening

Trees , Trees, Trees

Explode from the earth

Like Kraken from the ocean


Reminding us

Trees Trees Trees

Four hundred million years

Before you breathed

Trees Trees Trees
The Sun stopped shining in the middle of the day
The ancient tribe panicked, a cry of dismay
Aztecs afraid of divine displeasure
Grabbed one young ****** for a ****** counter-measure
Her heart taken out, beating and warm
Priests chanted their prayers so the gods would be calmed
Suddenly, outside, the light was once more
The priest rejoiced, yet the were stricken to the core
To appease their gods, ten more virgins were grabbed
A horrific image painted with crimson red
Starting from the Euphrates
wayfinding a trail toward Babylonia
to divert her waters

mapping her ancient towers
her eyes
her desires
her pudendum

egressing out of the bitter river
surrounding her temple

until enlightenment
glisters betwixt the frangible pages of her
Dialogue of Pessimism:
"Who is so tall as to ascend to heaven?
Who is so broad as to encompass the entire world?"

Inspired by Jamadhi Verse's poem 'Minor Melancholy' and the music she provided a link to:
Svetoslav Apr 2
Come to take you around in Montana, my friend!
From the waters of Ogosta dam
to the waves of the fountain
and the fabulous nights in Monteto.
Nowhere on earth or the Balkans you will find a city like that,
even at sea for it's the quietest and most pleasant city in Bulgaria.

A city with an ancient history,
dating back to before the coming of Christ,
telling of the intransigence of the people
and their hunger for knowledge.
A city with good people who deserve respect and esteem,
people who believe in a better future and
the progress of their young spirit.

They pass this faith and knowledge on to future generations
about the energy and loyalty to our city.
From the dazzling and beautiful Chiprovtsi carpets
to the countless and charming summers and winters.
A poem about my hometown of Montana.
Translated from Bulgarian
Kamilla Mar 1
How do I love thee? Let me count the ways
From the sweet laughter dribbling down your lips,
To your gentle eyes fluttering at dawn
From the way you gracefully pounce across the sea rocks
Gathering and sorting rounded glass—milky in color
The way the afternoon sun turns your hair to gold
Your eyes to deep, evergreen forests
Your limbs, like Icarus’ wings
Glowing, fragile,—temporary
My love knots tightly for thee, unslipping
With every yearning glance, I worry you will wash away
Like the piles of creamy glass you once collected
Returning home to the ocean and her waves
Leaving me unmoving upon the shore
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