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The Indian black berries
Bitter sour, tad bit sweet
Humble fruit
Low in cost
Benefits high
Sold everywhere in the month of June

Bought it off from a vendor off the street
Especially sold these
Segregated in three baskets
Each priced as per the size, way too high from the market price
Quality not compromised

Does life treat you the same
Quality quantity, a few adjectives to name
Aspen Welsch Feb 24
Stop looking at me
as if I’m some
- thing
to swallow up
or spit out.
A berry, black, swollen
ready to be chosen for your
consumption. I sour on your
tongue, assaulting your
taste buds because you
thought the only
- thing
that mattered was the purplish black,
the juice that produced for your
pleasure, my ripe, plump bumps,
my green hands
outstretched ready and there, for you?
Still you pluck and **** and stare
and **** me up with your
barren compliments stripping
my sweet substance
one by one
by one, you
extract it out
of me
gracie Sep 2018
tell me the story of the fawn,
white-spotted, damp-eyed,
lying still on the roadside;
how the forest mourned for days,
twisting and churning its leaves
against the ashen sky.
tell me the story of tragedy,
wind beneath the wings of Icarus
on his journey to the sun;
how he closed his eyes and smiled,
basking in freedom’s warmth
before plummeting back to earth.
tell me the story of youth,
wild and tender, dancing barefoot
as though we were made of nothing
less than bruises and blackberry wine;
how I'd let love destroy me,
the car
if it meant being in your arms.
Brandon Conway Sep 2018

Dog days of summer
How doth thou steal
Sweet blackberry plunder
How will I ever heal?

Cars passed fast
breeze swishes trees
As if spirits
Floating so free

A whisper they hiss
run faster than fastest
to grocery store produce bliss
give those blackberries
                                  a little kiss
a tree
I hank
here this
fallen arc
yet the
loop in
terry that
a singularity
present now
go to
New Mexico
and the
ennui divided
there with
scrambled eggs
and this
dark star
A star of the east
Jabin Jul 2018
Three meager blackberries
not quite formed,
plucked too soon from the vine.

Like us,
you were not quite ripe.

But your sister is with us now.
Maybe I'll meet you someday.
Brandon Conway Jun 2018
A sweltering run through the pastoral streets
Past the chemical plant and decrepit machinery
A couple miles trekked for nature's delicious treats
Incardine specks and black dots poke through thick greenery

Step over the ditch into the smokey mud
Stick your hand in carefully, the cost just a little blood

A blackberry picked from the protective thorn
is sweeter than one picked from the grocery store
Camilla Green Apr 2017
i fall in love with everyone
and my lips are never chapped
  so now i eat cinnamon toast
   and i paint the sun
    with blackberry juice
For once
They weren’t hiding
They let their guards down
For once they say how they feel
No second thoughts

She walks in
"Can you guess what I want?"
"Blackberry white mocha, almond milk, iced"
“Yes, exactly”
He says, “Do you know how I know that?”

She gives him two reasons
"You’re a super geniuses who remembers orders
You’re always around when I order"
A solid, "no"
“Well I’m always here, I hope you remember it”

He smiles, laughs
A ****** expression of truth
Not the answer he wanted
She thinks she knew what he was trying to say…
He's been an orphan since he was sixteen
That's when his parents kicked him out because he was so mean .
He's been living on the steps of every backdoor
What he can't get begging he will steal for

Once he was his mother's pride and joy
That was before he started drugs and there was no wonder anymore .
His skin turned hard and his heart harder still
His eyes became vacant lots lacking any will

He was living for a shot in the dark
Instead someone shot him down by the park
He died with a silly grin on his face
Don't worry there's someone who will take his place

Just another American dream disgraced
Another person slips off the face
He was dead before he hit the ground
His life ended with out a sound

And every day we say I don't care
He wasn't going to make it anywhere
All he was good at was getting high
Now he's gone and no one's asking why

His skin was as hard as a memory
He kept then in a bottle of pills he got free
No one even knows his name
Bud or Buster , it was all the same

No one even knows his name
They put him in a black bag that's the shame
He'll never be around again
And no one really cares
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