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m h John Aug 2019
at the edge of the west
i found a place
far removed from
these blinding city lights,
sky scrapers and telephone wires,
where the moon
is the only street lamp,
and these cypress pine trees
out number the population of people
a place of its own
where the run off streams
and mountain cliffhangers
feel like home
Sebastian Macias Mar 2017
She howled late at night
Whispering secrets to me
Through the winds
Eyes glowed in the dark
The blanket of light above
Pitch black 5 feet away
Up close, all too real
It's cold tonight, I thought
Whiskey in the fire
A table full of dreams
A book shelf of the dead
A wild path in the rain
Even the river we will cross
With bare feet and sore eyes
Becoming part of her
Becoming part of it all
Duke Thompson Aug 2014
I told you to read Big Sur
maybe once gone someone will listen
will you hear the sound of the crashing waves
like I did
how Jack did
or just laugh at bloated blackened burned corpse
all maggots, flies and half truths
about the instability of our college foursome
wistful lost thoughts of shirtless circus
too old now to justify  

it is never enough or is that just me maybe missing the point
all joy seemingly escaped how i long for simpler times when
we knew each other and didnt have to yell to be heard
but every new wet hole holds the cure, for a minute
does it not
or so you say informing me now of the latest last *** ****
is that enough
does it make you whole
would it make me whole too or translucent like
metaphysical sieve
yet i am losing my great big dharma spectre
and did you ever really have one
or did you just study and play at great booming philosophies
pretending with big yelling words as if louder equals absolute reality
that is how they taught you is it not

whilst sleeping we coined you the new buddha
you tell me as if i am to jump joyfully at this
did you sufficiently whet your beak young buck
as tired heads are tilted back sardonically surveying your scene
are you trying to convince me or yourself honey?

— The End —