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Jack Ghaven Dec 2015
I dabble in dreams
Singing with the sirens
Masking my shrill screams
I'm searching for guidance

These eyes are empty
I'm living outside of me
My demons tempt me
Form a different reality

I spend days in a cloud of smoke
With my nose buried in my collar
The more I try the more I know I'm broke
Living lackluster life in squalor

I'm panhandling on the corner of the street
With only pieces of my broken heart in my paper cup
Yet I find it so hard to admit defeat
I'm down not out I'll pick myself back up
This seems somehow hopeful, though it doesn't feel as smooth or in depth as I'd like it to.
Wind in my face, skateboard wheels careening toward my destination with a fervent pace, so many groceries on my mind. My music blaring within my ears, filling the world with some gift wrapped three minute long purpose for being. No one else is in my world as I roll along the concrete sides, just enjoy the beauty of the moment. Then tragedy strikes like a viper in the dark, the spot in my mind that I manifested with wood and wheels and speed, all set to a musical soundtrack is shattered with a single blow. Not a pebble or unseen ledge but you. You come into vision, my thief of heart and soul, my dreamtime tormentor, my love that won't or can't subside. Trailing behind you of course is whatever you've replaced me with, some superior person in appearance or attitude. As I roll ever nearer, all can do is imagine our perfect conversation, you know the one... That one makes you fall in love with me again. but as our bodies close in on each other, almost until I could grab you and kiss you with the supreme passion I still feel, my imagination melts back into the part of the brain that keeps me sad and all I do is make a fake smile in your direction give a half hearted waive and continue passed, trying not look back at you and the person beside.

The store I find, has an excellent selection of wine and spirits. I pick one, douse myself in it's forgetful qualities and sleep without dreams. For once leaving you out of where you should no longer reside.
Simon Obirek Oct 2015
Hey, *** me a smoke
I can't smoke my lucky one.
Could you ******* it, too?
We didn't last in the long run,
but I used to ******* you.

*** me a smoke,
I'm a broke bloke
What's your attitude about?
Don't *** me out.

My grandma won't hug me
she thinks I stink
My mum bugs me
when I get too much to drink,
I think.

My friends think it's cool
we stand in the bike shed behind our school.
The girls are looking,
I just wanna look good.
Can you please *** me a smoke?
I march to a different drummer
My life it is my own
I'm an explorer of experience
That is how I'm known

I've seen snow in South Dakota
I've been on the Vegas strip
Had barbeque in Kansas
My life has been a trip

I'm a gypsy of the railways
I'm a legend in my time
I move on in a boxcar
Brother... spare a dime?

I've been through all the landlocked states
Five provinces as well
I've seen Niagara Falls all frozen
I've seen it flowing fast as well

I've had margaritas in Key West
And Bourbon in Kentucky
Craft beers out in Oregon
In my life I have been lucky

I travel on my stories
Feed myself with all my tales
I'm an explorer of experience
I'm a gypsy of the rails

I never stick around too long
I don't wear my welcome out
I come and see just what I want
That's what life is all about

I've railroad friends in Texas
Some up in BC too
We've shared drinks in San Diego
And had a great Alaskan brew

I'm not one to live by your rules
I find my rules suit me fine
I'm an explorer of experience
And I'm riding on the lines

You can find me down in Georgia
Or eating spuds in Idaho
I never know just where I'll be
Until my ride begins to go

I'm a gypsy of the railways
I'm a legend in my time
I move on in a boxcar
Brother...spare a dime?
Kenshō Jul 2015
Weary traveler among'st a dusty world.
Emptiness and form dancing,
As if they stand for something.

Not many comprehend a man of solitude.
Let me cast my dreams like a *** against a sleeping tree..
-
I always believed scars were so beautiful,
until I became one.
A walking, breathing, talking scar - an unchanging reminder of what was and what shall never be again.

I became the scar reminiscent of our love- or rather my love because you were the definition of unrequited
and I used to like that about you - your unwaveringly selfish nature, I used to accredit it to your self belief but then I realised you got that from stripping away mine.
Bit by bit you became who you were by chipping away at pieces of my soul.
Catching the dust of all my dreams and beliefs in your hands and then sifting through it to get what you needed.

Some days you needed a lover.
You needed the heat of my hands raw against the planes of your back- which I had studied in such a neurotically engrossed manner-that surprised even you.
Other days you needed a slave, bent upon raw knees to serve your every whim
and not in a ****** sense because you made it clear that I was repulsive to you most of the time.
No,
you needed someone to serve you and worship at the temple that was your being. You needed a women to be enslaved to your love. You needed to be served and ushered and elevated with no emotional connection. You needed an unchanging commitment that only served you.  

You see, I was forever trying to be what you needed and in that attempt-that feigned attempt at what I used to believe was love, I lost myself. Wading through parts of you that you didn't even care to understand I lost myself.
Raw on my knees.
Wading barefoot through your soul.
Between the sheets- crawling towards you milimeter by milimeter only for you to move further each time.
Tracing the planes of your burning back.
That's when I lost myself,and became a scar. Evidence of all the times you hurt me in a marvelously unflinching and unforgiving way...

All of which I realised when I was destitute.
You see you used to be my home but then the season of our love expired and you threw me out and as I walked the streets of my new life, navigating what it meant to exist without you, I had an earth shatteringly glorious ephiphany - that loving you and being destitute were the same thing.

So here I am. A scar that walks and talks and breathes and the great thing about this scar is that I'm evidence of a healed wound. I am no longer raw from loving you and I am no longer lost. I'm a *** who smiles with no teeth.
Rhianecdote Apr 2015
So I've hit a *** note
Kicked out of office
On the kerb
Lost your vote

Of confidence?
Wrote off
Years ago
So I lost your vote

Sat in the gutter
Cause it's the only place
To see what guts are
Still I lost your vote

Made one mistake
In my masterpiece
And made my conduct(er)
Dependent on your lost vote

But as I recount this
I realise this is a dictatorship!
I'll busk for change, for myself
**But a Maestro is not dependent on votes
As a late great children's theme tune once said "it's a simple message and it comes from the heart, believe in yourself for that's the place to start" - Arthur the Aardvark (or whatever he was spose to be)

"If you let other peoples perceptions of you dictate your behaviour you will never grow as a person" -Mr Feeny ( coolest tv teacher ever!)
Robert Varblow Apr 2015
Oh mad hatted,
push cart rolling,
wanderer
wither goest thou?

Are you looking
for cans?
coins?
money to keep
on living?
money to keep on rolling?

I hope you
find your way
or at least
a place to
stay.

You're not alone
mad ***.
Limping through loneliness
Existing in a reality that is wholly mine
Living only for death
Following the beam just outside humankind
Answering to no one
Knowing you wouldn't answer my call
Dying to live
Dying to escape from it all
Gasping for breath
Pushing a life rigid steel and cold
Pray for answers
Resenting God for putting me on hold
Mumbling to the four winds
Passing cars invite salvation
Plodding ever aimlessly
Resisting my suicidal ideation
Stroking yellowed beard
Sweating inside layers stained and rotten
Drinking pain away
Realizing I'm simply, sadly forgotten
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