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Zywa 5d

none of my birthday guests know --

how to celebrate.
Novel "Midnight's Children" (1981, Salman Rushdie), chapter 2-6 "My tenth birthday"

Collection "Low gear"
Killing Mary Poppins
with a spoonful of sugar,
the sugar from the medicine
on the other side of town,
the town called Silent Hedges
And A Bit Of Fluff.

Only a display model,
her name is Marmalade;
skin white like the moon,
she wears her ****** stranger dress;
one of her sisters is dying,
the other never lived;
God is a far off concept,
the fuchsia colored ball on
an overhead power grid
points her way to salvation.

Morning became something else:
bright decline,
cold things start to burn,
tragic saxophone
among the beckoning,
everything's a symptom:
tax exiles, imperialists,
girls talking nitrous
--mouths full of soil,
Virginia Reel around the fountain
ready to buy up impossibles
as the dominoes fall.

Memory is a chemical
to the girl who cried champagne,
like ceiling stars
during the prodigal summer,
she played the game
on all fours,
and found a drawer
full of quarantine polaroids,
some with blood in her mouth,
others, of rain on her birthday.

silvervi Mar 3
1000 grains of sand in my throat
And I was so naive, yes so.
After being the most suspicious person
I chose to believe, to show my deep grief.

1500 grains in my mind,
All horrible assumptions reunite,
I gave in once again into the light,
It turned out to be buried in the night.

10.000 grains are heavy and cold,
They creep through my heart.
And I was so naive, yes so.
But I had to get hurt to finally let go.
Everyday I’m suffocating,
I’m choking on disappointment.
You really left me here waiting.
Will you ever find contentment?
Where are you now that I need you?
Jamesb Jan 25
I fell over the other day,
Silly and embarrassing really,
Also ****** painful and in truth?

But it got me thinking because
I was pulling on a rope when it happened,
A rope that then gave way,
It doesn't matter how,

And as I fell
I grasped that natural fibre cord
Even harder as if it
Even then would save me

From the painful landing,
No breaking fall,
No twist or roll just falling
Holding a slack hempen line,

But we all do this in life,
We hold our dreams long past
The point where they
Even slightly may come true,

We grasp them ever tighter
Even as they slip through the fingers
Of our hearts
And lonely souls

Until we land as I did
In a heap - covered not in mud
But in the knowledge not sjust
That it is over (whatever "it" may be)

So much as that it never was

Nor in fact would ever be
Okay maybe I banged my head upon the woodland floor but I  often see people who have just realised their dreams were never going to happen. The light leaves their eyes even as they sadly put down the rope and clamber to their feet
Jamesb Jan 25
A race horse lives,
Indeed is bred and cherished,
To run and to gallop and to lead the field,
To leap improbable heights
And depths,
And above all this to win,

Not to fall at the first,
Or the second,
Or the third fourth and fifth,
They are creatures of
Air and thunder,
Of flying hooves and sods of earth,

Sometimes indeed they fall,
Then rise riderless
And confused,
Unsure where to go or
Indeed how fast
Or even indeed why?

But these are gathered
Gently from the field,
And returned via expensive
Wagons to the stable,
Where lads and girls and vets
Are waiting to get them right,

A veritabe deluge of love
And care and expertise
Awaits these amazing equine
Flights of fancy,
Whatever their mistakes,
Whoever they threw from the saddle,

That partnership between
Jockey and horse breeds
Love and forgiveness
No matter the error,
No matter the pain of heart
Or soul,

But what of the horse
That breaks a leg,
That does not rise
But screams too long,
Too loud?
Alas that horse however fine,

That horse is always shot,
As is often the case some double entendre here but i have an abiding love of horses and it always saddens me the fall from potential champion, sought after for breeding to the muffled bang of a captive bolt then sudden quiet and stillness
Jamesb Jan 25
My horse was showing so much promise,
Fit and healthy,
Much loved and admired
Fresh fed and groomed to a shine,

But a shiny coat and tack doesn't matter much,
What goes on the track counts more,
Amidst the thundering hooves
The sweat and flying turf

It's the placing at the line
That counts,
And my horse?
She fell

At the first.
Horses eh?
You can fit the whole world in a sandwich

Your hopes, your dreams, your heart and your desires. Grip it tight

And choke on it
Austin Sessoms Dec 2023
All my **** got repossessed
By an aardvark in a leather vest
That he swears is only vinyl
But won’t tell me where to buy my own

He says if I can go six months
With no late payments
On my credit card statements
He’ll let the name slip

I’ve got to get my **** together
Or this cruelty-free vegan sleeveless pleather
Statement piece might slip away from me

So, these days, I’m
Dedicated to paying
This debt I’ve accumulated
Despite the social detriment
Withdrawal and depressive episodes
All in the name of
Improving my credit score

Until when?
The day comes up
That I’ve paid for the stuff
That I bought without paying for
I’m practically stable
By now

The aardvark from the IRS
Reappears as my remaining debt and interest
Dwindles into a less pressing account
For the withholding public servant
Who’s about to grant me access
To the privileged information
I’ve been craving for months

It was an Etsy shop
And they’re all sold out
CIIR Dec 2023
Twinkle twinkle little star,
How I hate that you are far.
Like a diamond in the sky,
What regret, I could not fly.
So I sold my soul for wings,
And greet whatever darkness brings...
MS.572 | Nadzyea's words as the Moon is abandoned: she is recalled to the futile needs of a doomed Earth that demands her skills
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