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hypnopunk May 17
war is not accessible
and never does it favour
boys who are like you
boys who have a flavour

it consumes and interests
those lively anothers
who wish to get lost
like their older brothers

but war is just posters
war is just a slasher
war is a cheap spine *******
gut ripper skull crusher

war is not accessible
war is for the upperman
you do not get to lose yourself
and die simply like they do then

boys like you have enough
boys like you do not need it
unlike you others still have blood
and they need a place to bleed it

it's for them to inhale
swimming in pools of red
it's for their twisted pale
wretched smiling pulsating head

boys like you and me struggle
and cry and love and get hit
without wanting a war
and without spending decades
reluctanly regretting it
the way some privileged men are fascinated by wars is deeply disturbing
My wound is fresh
My words weak
But light my pipe
And words begin to steep

It’s a slow burn
Betwicks the tobacco and me
the nightshade can’t last
My thoughts they burn

The smoke is a manafestation
It’s shows how things burn inside
So much for the fascination
Of a future I prized as mine...
Daniel H Shulman Aug 2018
Beauty from the first glance,
Never more blessed by chance,
Beauty from the first sight,
Fades to black by the night.

Beauty lands on the eye,
Keep watch as time goes by,
It’s gone as sunlight fades,
Banality cascades.

Beauty which beauty lasts,
Timeless aura it casts,
‘Tis my surprise sublime,
Beautiful every time.
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A H Butler Jul 2018
The urge to do nothing is overwhelming,

I am motionless
I find myself halted.
Based upon a worry
a waiting
dominated by uncertainty.

I cannot go on
I stretch the mind
wonder of antidotes
remedies delicious
in the knowledge
of their reduced life
But not a cure.

Openings brighten despite me,
the ephemera of the street untouched,
lilting on its arbor
in its impetuous parade.

​(I think)
I should not allow myself this dysania
in the spaces between moments,
lapses into stillness unforeseen.

In the warm response of wire
I ask for forgiveness.
Trapped in my own gaze,
it’s all I have.
(the purity of sorrow)
The floor pushes me skyward,

I run my finger’s tip around the edge of the afternoon,
Hope to god it rings out in response.
© A H Butler
Dog Years Jun 2018
As we spoke I could only think of honey
It was in the flow of her velvet hair
The brown nectar in her luscious eyes
It was in her voice
The taste of her sound
Never have I heard a tune so sweet
Soft red-berried tones
Humming through her sugar powdered lips
Pouring sunshine into my empty cup
An elixir fit for the gods
Blessing my mortal soul
My sweet Ambrosia
All that and much more
Brianna May 2018
She was fascinating.
Not because she was drop dead gorgeous or oh my god beautiful.

No, she had humor she used as a weapon.
No, she had love she used a shield.
No, she had strength hidden behind layers of wisdom.

She was fascinating.
In the way that made men cringe and made women envious.
She was the type of girl you wanted to get to know if only to keep her close by.
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