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Arcassin B Dec 2018
By Arcassin Burnham

Just Time.
We all,
Will find,
The light.
Sweet time,
Our lives,
Linger on.
Live it up.
But hold up right quick,
Cracked walls leads to cracked skulls,
Where is the love ?
****** one, plus a few a thousand,
All of the above,
Be a man or get kicked out , or get beat up,
One life , people will hate , don't you give up,
turn up on these dudes like its your last,
All the ******* they lack,
Ignore them,
One day they will all just fall back,
Steal the show, and be the one to break free,
See they dwell off memories,
While your a future adversary,
See while I'm a free agent you live off food stamps and paper payments,
Do you really wanna question on the subject of what lame is?
***** I have sensitivity issues , whats your excuse?
While you walk around acting like nobody's better than you,
All we have is Time,
Just Time.
We all,
Will find,
The light.
Sweet time,
Our lives,
Linger on.
Live it up.
I'm pushing all the boundaries, I swear you could never doubt me,
you wouldn't have entertainment, what would you do without me?
You have your own Posse but you'll never see me alone,
To every man in the world that thinks a gang is his home,
I don't need a ******* army just to say what I have to,
But I won't be that negative stereotypical black dude,
Engaging in conflicts with my own race,
You all are over there but this is my space,
Get out of my way,
Just Time.
We all,
Will find,
The light.
Sweet time,
Our lives,
Linger on.
Live it up,
But hold up right quick.
Arcassin B Dec 2018
By Arcassin Burnham

Peace less,
Heart in pieces,
What's the thesis ?
Fill in the creases,
Follow directions,
What's the lesson?
Too many lessons,
They don't teach,
Fake smiles,
Theres no reason,
Leave them speechless,
Flow through some trees,
No one gets a prize,
No being nice,
But I suffice,
No troubling me.
all by lone.
I see life on the other side.
was a prisoner in my home,
but it wasn't my home,
happy I survived
all by lone.
I see life on the other side.
was a prisoner in my home,
but it wasn't my home,
new beginnings have arrived...
Follow ya' lil' heart and everything will alright,
I know that sounds corny but its in this thing called life,
No you ain't , gone settle for less like the others,
Too good to be undercover,
There are new things to discover,
Don't follow the others...
all by lone.
I see life on the other side.
was a prisoner in my home,
but it wasn't my home,
happy I survived
all by lone.
I see life on the other side.
was a prisoner in my home,
but it wasn't my home,
new beginnings have arrived.
In this dark cold night,
the moonlight's yellowish white
there is a falling star
I missed to wish,
grassfield so wild
you and I are here tonight,
your caress takes my soul,
holding my hand so tight,
my eyes were drawn to you.
Together we fall into the cliff,
we dive deep in the exhuberance
of the sudden rapid beating of our hearts.
The moment we took to hold,
astraea Sep 2018
i can hear it now -the pine needles making a soft carpet and the leaves rustling,
dancing with their partners and laying with the soft crunches.
and there were rivers, rustling along the beds and laughing,
growing deeper and flowing to the sea.

we’d pile in the car, and run through the forest,
let the cool air kiss our faces, run shivering to warm buildings,
drink the warm cider and wrap scarves around each other.
it was warmer than summer would ever be.

i can see it now -the sunlight streaming through the trees,
trees and rivers i learned to make time for,
and us holding hands as we looked for directions,
the road stretching before us and hills rolling with golden leaves.

sunlight streamed through my classroom windows,
as i ran to school in boots, stepping towards my friends,
sitting huddled with each other,
because we felt whole.

i can smell it now -the fires, soft and warm and comforting.
we’d stop at these towns, low river towns, and look around in awe.
how could you live here, where the leaves are always gold? where the cold river runs so deep?
where the drink are so warm? where the clouds hang above you?

have you seen the sea in autumn? it turns grey and the sky grows cold. yet, the boat rides,
in the stinging sea air, seem all the more fun. and yet, the market smells all the more warm,
as the children walk around in wonderment,
gloved hands clutched tightly with their parents.

i can breathe it in now -the loneliness of a world that seems to be in it’s twilight,
but in reality is simply content to drive the mornings away, stopping to see cold buildings,
and allow the leafy afternoons to sink into an evening, where the lamps turn on,
and we sit in watch the stars in the gorge at night.

now, i remember, how much i loved all of you. we could listen to soft banjo music,
eat our sandwiches in the warm car, dress up and step into the autumn chill,
we’d explore any village and taste their hot chocolate, then stay as long as we wanted.
and then we’d move on.
to my family.
inspired by: pale nov. dew (the dead tongues)
When I'm driving out to Albany
My mind stirs.
"What would it be like,"
he chimes in contemplation,
" to spend a summer with her?"

So instead of Albany,
I'm driving down some bustling main street
of a town neither of us have heard of,
but I don't feel lost because I can feel her shoulder
brushing against mine.
She's poised, staring with glassy eyes out into an unknown town
with a grin painted stretched across her gentle face.
She's giddy now as her right hand meets the warm air outside.

When we finally park, it's some ****** just-of-luck spot
between a sunny corner and some person's rotting pick-up.
The sun, beaming wildly on us, is familiar now.
We're busily glancing about as we stroll down the sidewalks,
passing couples and families and an occasional man out for a smoke.
We enter shops galore and explore their depths of dumb pins, hats, posters, overpriced clothing and knick-knacks.
It's like those boring and cheesy indie movies where they're so conveniently laughing at the same thing and trying on hats regardless of where those hats may have been.
We're holding hands now, neither of us really knew when that happened, exactly, but it did, and no one complained.

Interlocked hands swaying back and forth, she leans her head against my shoulder and I feel warm inside.
I spot a small diner with chairs and tables positioned outside, and automatically knew we had to check it out.
After ordering, we sit there, waiting, and she goes on about this story of this one time her and her friends did this crazy thing back home, and I'm sitting there, smiling like a ******* ******, as I watch her gesture with excitement on the pressing details of the most intriguing events she's been on.
I'm just observing her, how the sun casts a golden halo around her, it's like I'm somewhere completely separate, just her and I.
Her laugh breaks me out of this trance, as I realize the waiter's standing right there waiting for me to move my **** arms so he can put my plate down. ****.

So we eat, and after paying, I check our time,and it's about 1:30. I stand up, stretch my arms, and wrap one around her. We walk around a bit, then gather ourselves to head to the car. As we hop in, I feel this urge of impulsivity bubble up inside of me like a spring.
"We're going to the beach, *******!" I declare without another word, and we're off. I let her play whatever song she wants, because anything sounds sweet when there's the tiny, slightly self conscious hum of her trying to keep along but not too loud, musing in the background.

We catch onto a song both of us know far too well, and again, it's like a **** ****** teenage indie movie. We're singing along with the windows down and the warm summer breeze breathing through the car. Everything around us is green with pure life, and the world feels as if everything is thriving and coexisting in harmony.

I don't feel as if I want to be anywhere else, even if sand gets stuck in my ******* shoes and I can't believe I have this killer sunburn.
I feel alive, and with her. It's so ****** and it's all been said before.

It's all but a dream, and I wake up in Albany.
So I'm really dumb and I get too in depth about things on my bucket list... rip
Jack Mar 2018
“please be *****”

she stands in her doorway wearing just a gown,
I walk in the house, dumbstruck by beauty,
up in her room undoing the bow, the shield simply slides down
caressing her curves, stroking down to the floor,
intertwined bodies craving the touch of the other,
joined as one in the gentle acts of love and ****,
romanticised ideals of perfection and soft rhythm,
delicate groans as two become one,
the broken poet, for the moment, is gone,
my drug addiction of you, just wanting more,
As my heart bleeds, love begins to pour.

“please be *****”.
this poem is influenced by The 1975 instrumental song "please be *****". i regularly think of this song as romanticising the act of *** and the trust required with it rather than what most songs make it today. despite having no lyrics the song speaks volumes to me and id definitely recommend it to anyone. stay safe and live well. JY x
Kagey Sage Mar 2018
What’s new about Hipsters? It’s not that they're the first co-opted counter-culture, far from it. The Beats were co-opted. The Sentimentalists, over 200 years ago, were co-opted before capitalism was so industrious. It’s not even new that calling a ***** a ***** is offensive. “Hippies,” “Beatniks,” “Emos;” all insulting labels for youth that thought they were much more.

There it is, or some of it, perhaps. Does the current so-called counter-culture feel like they’re part of something much more? Even without labels, I don’t think they think of themselves as a counter-culture at all. The worst part about it is the Hipsters and  non-Hipsters are really much the same. Falling for a similar niche, but feeling like they ain’t.

We all like flannel, thick glasses, and good beers. We’re all killing Applebee’s. We’re the waitstaff there who laughs at ourselves, cause we’re just so low-down. Not the last, but toward the bottom rung of a ladder that once meant progress beyond our parents’ lives. We stand for nothing and everything, because a secure tomorrow seems unlikely and unwanted. Beget suburban kids like our parents did? Could I buy them as much as I had? A student loan on top of a mortgage, I think I’m better off paying exorbitant rent. Plus, it just feels more temporary, like everything else.

Late twenties, long passed the age my parents conceived, I’m getting old. Lack of full adult independence, still feel floated in embryonic fluid, trying not to give juvenile hopes up.  Qualified for that secure job, but is it open? Maybe I’ll have to move down South. Just like everyone else.

At least there’s always music. Nearly a century of recorded songs. Indie, Scene, and Emo; the last real counter-cultures associated with rock genres, and most practitioners scoffed at these labels. Why didn’t Punks or Metal Heads care?

More pressing, what is the newest rock genre? Emo faded nearly 10 years ago. Some formation of Americana seems sorta fitting now. Not far from that “Indie” umbrella,  it’s what Hipsters seem to like most, at least in the TV commercials. These more choral, sometimes bluesy bands. Some are good, but it’s nothing new.

Now, the algorithms anticipate evolution years in advance. All tastes like Styrofoam, so we spit it out fast. We keep skipping tracks to futility escape the same persistent hum. All the price for our growing clairvoyance. Telescopically, we are flying fast into a wall that ends originality. Too many citations needed. We enter them into software to manage. Our fear of plagiarism makes one uninfluenced instead of inspired. We just make homages. Turn anything creative into a list of allusions.

We forgot to forget
Suspend St. Anselm
patron of using rationality
to explain away one’s faith
in magic and mystery
God exists because
all we can imagine must exist
Your unicorns are but
a mind’s fusion of
horse and narwhal
and your culture is but
a culmination of has-been trends
So it’s all been done
Why try to change a thing?
Why try to be new?

This is the end. Not reflecting and absorbing past cultures with an eye to the future. But judging and consuming past cultures with with a carnal now. There are some niceties to be gained in solely present preoccupations. Yet, no Buddha abounds in these selfish meditations. We are no longer the bodhisattvas, suspending enlightenment to save all beings. “We’re woke, because we know we’re ******” Then we type a symbol for “laugh out loud,” while our mouths stayed closed. We take a morning slug and drive off to work. The complexity of our controllers v. the simple fleeting pleasures. What can I do? Why should I bat an eye at the way the world works?
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