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jon May 21
Over the years I’ve heard that when a person is up at 3 am they’re either lonely or in love
I wonder which one I fall under from the two choices from above
When it’s all said and done I planned the perfect day for us, we’re gonna have some fun
Suddenly I wake up it was just a day dream, you were right there about to be in my grasp, how lovely that would be
I’d listen to you all night, my hands tracing your body, feels like ecstasy, and if you let me I’ll explore and hit all the right spots
I love the way you play during the day, you’re such a good girl who does a lot for her people without a thought
You’ve been so good and I’m proud of you, do you know what that means? You get to indulge yourself with a little treat
Staying up all night with the bright night light so I can remind you there’s light in the darkness
There’s a fire inside me and I’m pretty sure you’re the one who sparked it

Laying in bed next to someone but still feeling alone while I’m a low key mess
I’m not completely alone because I have one of my favorite girls always with me, Mary Jane to ease the daily pain
I’m off on an adventure to escape my life, gain a new experience that feels right, and explore the earth’s landscape
I’m thinking of our memories in high school, I try not to let them get the best of me but it’s hard when I’m feeling lonely
I remember our first kiss, the way we used to reminisce, and the way you used to love me
We were young and naive, back then I really ****** up, I begged you not to leave me
I didn’t mean to hurt you so bad, I was thrown into the water early in life, I didn’t know how to swim so I was slowly drowning
I’m speaking metaphorically just in case you don’t know, it’s a comparison of how I wasn’t taught to love properly
Not making any excuses I just want you to see my perspective and retroactively introspect it
I’ve been opening up lately and I want you to know how much I’ve grown by going to therapy to take a break from life and reflect on it
We’ve both changed and matured since then but there are qualities of you that remain and they’re the ones I’ve always loved
I miss our walks, the way we would tease one another, I loved to kiss you in the pouring rain, sometimes biting your lip a little rough
I miss your lips, and holding your hand just because I can and the way we were there for each other when push comes to shove
I’m lucky to have crossed paths with you because sometimes I desire another chance and I have two left feet but I’d dance with you if you wanted me to
No matter what I’ve done you never think less of me and that’s one of my favorite things about you
The days where we would pull each other out of our sadness and straight into a kind of love madness
You’re one of a kind and a lovely distraction, when our eyes meet that’s law of attraction
I love everything about you I don’t know where to begin or even start, like my mom and dad, you’re my high school sweet heart.
verus Oct 2020
my life is not beautiful.
it just is and that is enough.
refraining from falling
into the hopelessness I've created,
that prison of my own manufacture.

I put water over the stove
and sit in this carcass
while I myself,
a cadaver if you will,
wait for it to complace me.

the lost dreams and
suspires wander these walls
that have trapped
every abandoned hope hides
behind these eternal furniture.

how am I supposed
to thread beautifully with
all this weight? my arms
are full, with bruises and plates;
***** plates I carry on
from door to door before
running away holding more.

should I drop, let them shatter?
is it cowardice, or care for the self?
my friend has said they
are no different.

to know there is no expectation present
you mustn't know what an expectation is.
so, do you, my friend?
the flies on the still life
are agreeing with us.

do you allow them dictate
that which is beautiful, why,
when they haven't got a feeling?

do you allow me dictate
that which isn't?
tell me beauty's antonym
and I'll teach you to survive

between humans and the flies
that peck at the remains
of what once lost I retrieved,
and corrupted it came back.

on my floors the plates stay shattered
my soles bleed on every step
on the edge of hopelessness.

it is not for us; romantics,
sinners of massacre, thieves of all kinds.

lives cannot be made beautiful,
yet you found beauty in its lack.
I wanted encouragement yet only found courage—
to write, grieve, and die.
at the late night kitchen
Kurt Carman Oct 2020
"I go to Nature to be soothed and healed and to have my senses put in order".
- John Burroughs


Part I

When the time was right, he does not hesitate to follow the path, “I've been waiting for this moment a very long time" he says.
Just himself, a Sage XP fly rod, a Golden Prince reel and a selection of March Browns and Slate Drakes. Its a special morning, Autumn 60s, overcast skies and lowlights.


The pathway bends past tall Sugar Maples, Old Stone fences, a Groundhog or two, trout lilies and mountain laurel. Its right here, that his fondest memories reside.
He had come at last to transcend the idea of coming back to the river for a greater purpose. A purpose that makes life worth living, a milestone, his own personal mark on this special place.
The sound of the river is in earshot now. A Chipping Sparrow sounds the alarm and all of Neversinks inhabitance are now on notice….human approaching.


As he reaches the river bank he's transported to a memory of his Granddad. The times when they fished this stretch of the river together.
His Grandfather told him about a time when fly fisherman and fly tiers honored Neversink and made it famous.


We always fished until it was dark. Granddad would light the lantern and we’d walk and talk all the way home. I often felt encouraged that just knowing the importance of this place, brought me luck.

Part II

"So by now, you're probably wondering who I am." "My name is Tom, Tom Murphy." "As a child, I came here each summer to spend time with my grandparents in the town of Roscoe, NY. When I graduated high school, I still came here from time to time whenever I had a college break as an Agronomy major at Cornell. I've always loved this place. It's always been near and dear to my heart."


The very next morning, Tom makes his way down the pathway to the river again. A nice steady Breeze was blowing through the trees, and that's when he heard it again. It's almost as if someone was speaking through the trees and wind. There it was again, this time calling out a whispering "tight lines." This was the very same voice that Tom heard as a child when his Grandfather took him to the river from the very first time.


A light rain began to fall, and Tom took cover under a large hemlock tree. Thunder sounded off in the distance, and everything in the forest was dead silent. As Tom peered across the river, he spotted movement in the adjacent Forest. A second later, a figure appeared on the bank of the river. An older man probably in his late sixties dressed in a top hat and coat, a split bamboo fly rod, and a German Shorthair Pointer by his side. Tom called out, " Good morning, sir. How are you?"
A spin off of my previous work called A RISE ON NEVERSINK.
Laokos Oct 2020
just thinking back
           on
my twenties and cracking
           a
smile for every tree I hollowed
           out
to make room for a new universe.


now,
in my thirties, I laugh at windows
           stacked
on top of Mercury's head as
           Venus covers her mouth and hides again.
Caitlin Faykus Oct 2020
In through one ear
Out the other
I'm not talking about sounds
I'm talking about flies
And they're so loud
Megan Sep 2020
Hidden in the center
Whole black flies
Their trembles linger
Until I cry
Mark Parker Sep 2020
Apollo’s chariot rests
below the horizon’s layers
yellow, pink, and blue.
Breathing in the sunset,
night’s chill takes the air
with chirping crickets
hooting owls
and starlike fire flies.
Nature stuns me on a regular basis.
Gabriel Girault Aug 2020
As an arrow flies throughout the sky,
it remembers its journey.
How it was
crafted,
Stored,
readied,
and launched.
He remembers the days where all he did was sit and think,
where he wished to be free.
Now that he is free he realizes that all is not how he dreamed.
He was heading towards a target,
one that he did not ever dream about.
He was going too fast.
All he cared for was life as it was,
but now as he flies through the sky,
breaking the air,
he realizes he wasn’t ready.
Tom Waiting Jul 2020
After John Prine:
“There's flies in the kitchen,
I can hear 'em there buzzing,
And I ain't done nothing since I woke up today”


Mr. John Prine

                       <£>

There's flies in the kitchen,
all around my eyes and head,
they’re just gossiping bout me,
why most mornings
I’m still laying in bed
at almost near
noon-time, why too, them
angels and their a-fluttering wings,
a-flapping, still hanging around,
when they’re so far from home

truth be told, I kinda like new combinations,
the musical vibes, magic incantations,
boogie woogie, fuzzy buzzy eyelash sounds,
bluesy background harmonies against the
harps them angel wings are playing,
I’m getting every note writ down so,

I can play it well on the morrow, on my
following them higher up, all the ways up
on that glowing shining stairway to heaven,
guarantee-****-teeing entrance through the
pearly gates for the flies and a lazy, no-account
worthless S.O.B. like me
J J Jun 2020
I left some dead fruit
  By the window ledge
In the hopes fruitflies
Would sprout and break free

  their torrid wings from the grapevine roots.

Instead, all I got was a smelly room

And grapes that hissed dissapointedly
As they crackled inward in the background
(rotting flesh now too heavy
to carry on stiffupperlipped).

How sunny it is outside. How much

  Sunnier the weatherman says it'll be
tomorrow. Atleast, I think with my last thought
Of the day,

Atleast I'll remember to get fresh fruit tomorrow.
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