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I S A A C Aug 2021
what fantasy should I play into today
watch the fruitful image become laced with dust like Pompeii
what fantasy should I play into today
become just another burnt-out cigarette in your astray
my life is simply a fallacy, nobody truly cares for me, losing my sanity in the name of chastity
my life is unsatisfactory, nobody truly can handle me, confidence beat up no battery, take another shot of vanity
woah, I feel it start to form
woah, the new queen of the swarm
woah, x marks the spot no storm
woah, no longer can conform
to society, their ideology in breach of me
and my values, firmer than statutes
life can bruise, covered in the cool hues
and my bad news is I can still lose
but why focus on the lack and knives wedged in my back
rather not focus on that
discard the cracks and sneak attacks
rather not focus on that
my walls are up and they keep you back
Kamila Jun 2021
Isn't it weird how fast I've fallen?
I already miss your spirit, sunshine.
To be frank, wherever I'm going
I feel the urge to be back all the time

I miss museums and ancient buildings,
The river, the grass and the trees.
I miss the way I was usually feeling
While I was walking down your streets.

I don't honestly know how it happened,
How quickly you captured my heart,
But I could've never imagined
That I'd miss Roma so hard
PMc May 2021

My soul is a vacant lot.
Years ago sold to some shyster
looking to make a quick buck.
No one could live on those kind of wages.

The emptiness now a flattened yard
all sorts of wreckage leaking power steering fluid with anti-freeze
an environmental hazard if nothing else.

My spirit is an abandoned brownstone
where photos once tacked
on walls reminiscent of happier times
smiles were genuine, ties were taught
Sunday best meant just that – then and there
A home fully furnished with memoires back in the day
now foreclosed

My heart is an empty warehouse
years ago used to recycle broken promises, empty wishes, hollow, unrealized dreams
My good intentions could push through the hurt
a cost of doing business
never questioning the **** in – **** out logistics

Then, the last love broke away from the loading dock out back
on its forever journey to paradise
while I stood there on a rotting, empty platform
with the invoice in my hand
the NSF cheque written in blood
signed with my tears.

9/10 Feb ‘21
Honestly this is not as dark as it might read (honest).  It is a pragmatic look at love and love lost again and again.  I read this to friends who immediately asked me if "I was okay".  'I'm fine - thank you.  The truth needs to be told and I like to think I'm lighter for it.
Man Jan 2021
the clock read 4 am
in new york city,

one hell of a city

i was at a little coffee place, still open
it was one i frequented often, when in the sin
a place of pity
when you look closely at the people or inspect the buildings a bit nearer
some street blocks you need just look down
but i'd bought a cup for a nice young fella out on his luck
he'd made the pavement his pillow
and as he talked my ear off
on physics, domestic politics, and stocks
i thought of what little difference
it made to so many
whether it was him or i
calling my stay on the straightaways
and the little that made us separate
Henry Oct 2020
Rigid, impasto clouds
Stick out of the sky
Like Van Gogh
Put them there himself
Sky peaking between
Buildings and towers
Pushed and pulled
Twisted and ripped apart
Like fabric tearing slowly
Moved by the breeze
Invisible currents slicing
A silent cacophony of air
I reach up and feel
Solid, dried paint crackles
Under my finger tips
I pull my hand away
Digits stained white and blue and gray

Shifting streets and their buildings
Pulsing and moving and shaking
Jagged and prickly corners
Edges of windows glint
Like drops of blood
On the edge of a sword
Walls and sidewalks
Rough like a giant cat's tongue
The skyscrapers carve the landscape
Into a distorted forest
An amalgamation of today
And yesterday and the day before that
I reach forward and feel
I pull back in shock
Fingers pricked and knees scraped
imagery from where i live now
Christian Simon Sep 2020
The Gargoyle on the roof.
How far you've come,
Without moving an inch.
Always there;
Often unseen.
Standing steadfast,
but time and the elements
Will always chip away.

The Gargoyle on the roof:
Sometimes small,
Sometimes large.
It will make itself known one day
When it finally flies but
Is found to be frozen in stone.
Tumbling, tumbling down
To hit the ground
And shatter
Or will it be saved
From it's terminal fall
By my unsuspecting brain?
Will I be the one
Who shatters?
Nikolas Jul 2020
The clock revealed 4 am.
Glorious blue tones overtook the darkness;
The chirping melody was blurring into the scene of this vital composition of the dawn.

The buildings remained quiet.
The nearly vacant streets welcomed a few hard-working men;
I sensed the smell of the syrupy pastries from the old, dear bakery.

I pulled the sheets off of myself.
Let the chill early breeze settle on my chest;
The entirely opened windows left the walls glazed with the gold tinted sunrays.

I close my eyes again.
Perhaps I woke up by accident, though this rare occurrence was delightful;
For now, I'll just let my mind continue it's journey through my dreams...the deepest corners of my visions, the endless floating through the seas.
Isaac May 2020
City stretching wide,
Touching on every side.
Buildings so high,
They look beyond the sky.
Space a playground of travel,
So vast it can only baffle.
Time a never ending maze;
We can subdue every phase.
Written 31 May 2020
Timothy Apr 2020
The buildings are square
Lost is the taste
Profits are calling
Often built in haste
What an insult to the past
In this beautiful space
Opportunity to inspire
But more than likely a waste
City thoughts
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