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Julia Aug 28
drive. slo.
chill. ****.
rode. up.
ya done.

your baby isn’t dying
if you’re late you’re just not trying
so tell me why the ******* flying
in a civic down 45?

nothing civil bout your ride
last week 11 people died
that way so everything aside
it’s time to smile and just glide

no. stress.
the road to happiness
ain’t on my tesla’s gps
i guess the next best thing’s to bless
the morning as you’re getting dressed

slo. roll.
toe. hold.
gro. old.
ya done.
for God's sake use your blinker
I sat down by the tree in the center of the cul de sac
and I stared straight ahead for what seemed like days.
There was a brand new mailbox and front door,
but my ten year old handprint is still on the driveway.

My favorite dog, Louie, used to lay on that windowsill
and patiently wait for me to come back from school,
and behind that front window was the formal dining
room where my dad first taught me how to play pool.

Just behind that was the kitchen where Momma used to
make meat patties and gravy, her hands covered in flour,
and the upstairs middle window was where my sisters
and I used to argue over who was first in line to shower.

The upstairs window on the far right was where my
neighbor used to throw small rocks to get my attention.
Eight years later, that friend is now in a cemetery and I think
about him and his family more than I can even mention.

The memories of my entire childhood are embedded
into each brick of this two story house in Candlelight Hills
and knowing that my white picket fence past is now
nothing but distant fond memories gives me the chills.

These walls in front of me shaped me into who I am today
and as I sit here on the curb reminiscing on my own,
I know in my heart that no matter where I live
or how many years pass, this will always be my home.
Johnny walker Mar 27
Conroe Lake Texas, Its 3.45 In the afternoon my dearest friend
she did work on the House she's building and calling It a day
all that left are the chores, but tomorrow Is another day but another day broke never seems to be
money to go round and the everyday struggle of life doesn't get any easier with the passing of
But she smiling at the prospect as she looks out of the window at her two rescue
named  Hank and Pete smiling at the thought possibly her son Eric getting contract work
with his friend
Terry mind Is 20 minutes up the freeway from Conroe Lake
she lives to Huntsville and
her College days at Sam Houston State University
where she'd run the near 7
mile distance around the lake
and the biggest statue you can see from 5miles away coming up
freeway that of Sam Houston who defeated the Mexicans after the fall
of the
Its the biggest statue In the USA Terry Is remembering when younger she
would tow
five wheel camper up the freeway to Sam Houston Park where she and the kids would spend a week or two to
then suddenly Its back to reality *** to wash from supper as she still
finds herself gazing out
the window at her to rescue donkeys and thinking to herself tomorrows Is
just another
A poem written from a description by my dearest friend by email from Conroe Lake Texas
Patricia Feb 2018
Dear Whitney,

I was a thought in my mother's imagination when you were in your prime and now that I'm in mine I need you back more than I need mine. You would've known what to say when that man entered my sacred space. Can you believe they haven't figure it out yet?

Whitney you danced for you and no one else. No one could love you like you did, not even your devoted fans. You let no one call you broke and call you a crack fiend. Instead you powdered your face and continued on with your day. But baby yours isn't translucent.

Sister Houston you died when we needed you most. It was you who could lift every voice with just yours and sing for all the colors in the wind. You left me all alone before I got a chance to fall in love with your overbearing spirit. There was no room left in my body for God after I filled myself with hate.

Whitney I never learned how to love. I tried listening to the legacy you left on my iPhone and reading articles on how to be better. I been screaming for somebody's love for so **** long that I'll dance for anybody. In this story, I've become you Whitney. This is The Bodyguard now and ol' boy from Field of Dreams is coming for me. To you my love, if you build it I will always love you.

And lastly Whit, what's the afterlife really like? Is worth it? You know, leaving me behind?
Philip Lawrence Sep 2017
Better the gratitude of
a single child
than the angry
cheers of thousands
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