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Riz Mack May 19
In the thicka the Perth Road's pretence
millin aboot the fustian
o the ald "Hunter S." basement
(cuz there's nae Scottish writers ti name a pub efter)

cap scrapin the ceilin
Bohemian Monk Machine
gettin set on the tiny stage fir a bit o

a hud ti step ootside
wee bit o fresh smoke
a few lads sauntered past in thir
designer gear an zirconian ears

"let's go in here -
nah, am no into country music"

it's ca'd Maker now but
ah it maks me is restless
true story
Carlo C Gomez May 2023
hand cranked
re-imagined 35mm slides
Rough Trade posters
on the wall
Pepsi and premade sandwiches
on the counter

aperture: wide open
he sees her often at the multiplex
there she flirts
from the third row; second seat
sheer blouse
hands in elliptical motion
pointing toward
silk chiffon shells
the invite in a tilt of her mouth
lip; gloss
eyes hidden from the light

a prayer before intermission
celluloid reliquary
reveals God's plans
lest her trifling with him
cause a miss in changeover
enraging his self-regarded audience
the walk back to his car
one long montage of her lacing up
that initial feeling
of water as
it seeps
through the seams
of a boot
finding cracks
in the leather
against such leaching
of puddles being
drawn in by
a traitorous sock
willing to sacrifice
the fraternity
of dry comfort
that once it held
flooded with irritation
that will be quenched
only with the offering
of an inane
expletive or two
under breath
carrying the weight
of a week's worth
of frustrations
Hollow Steve Dec 2019
Mispronounced chaos sways
With its ellipsis misplaced
And taking away
Its own verdict
That was left displayed
Its own hole
From displacement
Carrying concrete
Like broken shoulder blades
Deteriorating outcomes
Commonplace is then found
In its unity
Disuniting it all
Ksh Nov 2019
Empty streets in the cold of night,
An evening not so much as autumnal as it is of winter.
The roads, lined with little pinpricks of light
that seem to go on for miles, and miles,
without a beginning nor an end.
How does one differentiate a starting and a finishing point?
The laws of physics dictate
that displacement be calculated by the distance one has traveled
from their initial point of motion.
If I have traveled far and wide,
and stepped into the same footprints that I made when I first left,
I'd have come full circle;
my displacement would be nil.
Would it have been better to have been away, exerted all that effort, have gone through all the *****, and glamour,
and excruciating moments of boredom and nothingness
that life had to offer, just to come back to the same spot I started?
Or would it have been better to just stay in place,
mum and silent, with the world passing me by,
like streetlights in the road,
illuminating the way like signposts,
to the end for some, to the beginning for others,
but always -- always -- just a rock in the stream?
Jodie-Elaine Mar 2019
Walking              to             meet            fate
you walk in and you’re sat on a cushion mid
*******               out                  your                   insides.
This whole thing happened years ago.
Urban legends laugh as you say your own name
three times in the mirror
you’re                         still                            there
Martin Dove Oct 2018
Life is a struggle
Armed with a bare-knuckle

Born out of ancient rubble
Collecting what chance has to offer

If you have what it takes
It rewards you with inequality -
Objective prosperity with emotional disparity

But if by chance you are misplaced
You get to see the devil’s face
Just as real as that loving gaze
You strive to see and tend to praise

Dazed by the gravity of objective reality
No matter the cost, we strive for more clarity
This isn't what you need.
I, am not what you need.
It's just I need to find a solution,
Ostensibly, I look for it in everyone.
Wherever I go, I make it up as I go along,
I imagine what could be true
In a fanciful and quixotic place.

I'm not trying to make you,
Or anyone else my personal conquest;
Or an object to fill my spiritual journey,
I am not intending to lose you after finding myself.
And I'm sorry,
In case any of these things have,
Or will, come true.
Mystic Ink Plus Apr 2018
In search of good life
We often miss the better life

Time whispered so.
Genre: eXperimental
Theme: Here, I’m the time.
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