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Colm Apr 2017
As I plod along at a placid place
I ask myself most often if
My mind will ever approach that place?

If I’ll I ever be able to move along
Down that path
Be it into the summer or out of May?

“Your brightest days are yet to pass!”
Or so they say, with each differing dawn
And yet I am still unsure of such path, nowadays

Be it winding or not
How they stretch out before me, and bend at a distance
Turning just around the cornery edge
To entice my mind to stray away

How I’d often jump from rock to rock
Devoid of fear, in my younger days
How I'd fly through the air without forethought
That is until I became aware of this present day

Though still I must, and will I trust in my ginormous feet
For it is time I value, and the steadiness which is found outside
That is, I'm seemingly less capable of turning off my mind

For I am afraid of not being able to see
And witness all the beauty which is stored away
Within such paths

For its there and within that which I expect to find
This path of mine

As a memory to create down each pasture lane
Must be simply folly and waste
To ponder such things with every day
This is what I see

When the decision stretches out before me
Not far away
Like a field of green

Whereas so many others are thus condemned to a barren wasteland
Simply put
Her lushness is just one of the things
That will make me stay
I know this season will not last. Forever and always. As will the next. We all fade in time and memory. But what really matters? To me? Perhaps I will soon learn to value effort the being, as compared to just the struggle to become.
Beau Scorgie Apr 2017
Half way up the hills
and eclectic group gather
at a narrow bar.

Leather jackets
occupy seats
by the door.

We sit
for a cigarette length of time
(cigarette length of time =
   1 x 10 minutes
            + ≥ 10 minutes before
                   and/or after cigarette)
and walk
the dimly lit corridor
to the bar.

We sit
at a table for two
against a wall.

The band plays fiercely.
I've seen them before.

Their moxie
always brings
a rowdy crowd.

Behind them
apple crates
cling to the wall,
housing quirky decor.
Books, globes and vintage cameras.

A projector casts
lollipop swirls
and a singing silhouette.

Drink specials:
tequila mockingbird

I spoke to a Serbian girl I know.
She always wears glitter
and hazy eyes.
The more questions
I ask her
the longer I can listen
to her accent.

We spoke about the age old
nature vs nurture enigma,
and the life long impact
of a child's first six years.

She asked me
about my art.

It seems
that's all anyone
knows me for.

Outside, again, we sit.
For 5 x cigarette length of time.

Around me
people talk...
                 and talk.....
                               talk....
                                       ta...
                                             l...
                                                 k.

I'm sober.
Too **** sober.

My daydreams are broken
by a man.
He's bubbly and smiles a lot.
I like bubbly, smiley strangers.

We exchange stories
of our current lives.
He's a graphic designer,
and tells me
I should merge my art
and writing
into film,
and gifts me a flashlight.

I like quirky, bubbly, smiley strangers.

I'm left to retreat
back into my own thoughts.
It's less lonely in there.

I sort through memories,
recite lyrics,
observe the people around me
and watch them closely.
Their body language,
the way they bring
their glass to their mouth
and blow their smoke.

People interest me most
doing nothing in particular.

But I miss something,
and I can't quite pinpoint what.

I'm sober.
             Too.
                 ****.
                         Sober.
Julie Grenness Jan 2017
How do we get to memory lane?
Why bother to go there again?
Dull contemplation of the ex,
Lil' ole witch gives him the hex.....
Why bother to go there again?
How futile, trips down memory lane......
Feedback welcome.
egotist Sep 2016
by da lane
see thru da pane

far away dey seem
yet illuminate my dream

to da high lands I elope
to a dream of hope

in the pines I wander
in all da wonder

ain't a feign aint a smile
n few jive from a mile

few make it obvious
look thy incredulous

its all my pain
by da lane
see through da pane

---the egotist
a thought while i was looking through the  window pane of a bus.
Kelsey May Daly May 2016
In my youth, I came across an intoxicating friend
As quick as tiger, my friend emerged to my best
Never one without the other, permanently in my hand
My best friend guided me through life, momentarily erased the problems I had
My best friend unlocked my happiness, then allured it in a jar
Only to be released in vehemence, which mutated into truth
The truth haunted my family’s soul, I moaned secrets of antagonism never to be told
My mind went to war, my friend was getting old
but I was in too deep and couldn’t let go
I craved it’s company, the feeling it gave
But it lead me to destruction, depression and hate.
The people that cared, begged me to release
But it was out of grasp, out of my reach
Soon they let go, something I was ******* to
Now I was the one, shadowed by the truth.

As I tumbled down the lane, with a bottle in my hand
I was immune to pain, felt no blood in my veins.
Goose bumps replaced the ragged clothes that barely covered my skin
A ghost blurred my vision, but opened my eyes to sin
I only saw a jigsaw of contention, a forest of grief
Then I blacked out, my once best friend killed me.

I awoke in a daze, but new life set ablaze in my heart
The ghost floated away, and at last I saw the light
The shadows dropped and a refreshed beginning was in sight
The alcohol was no friend of mine, it stole my time to realize
I gazed at my friend, and softly smiled
This newfound enemy was condemned to die
With a smash of a bottle, a break of a heart
A splash of disease, a pool of blood
A life soon to be forgotten and a new life soon to be remembered.
About my dad
Nirvana Mar 2016
walking down the memory lane
I revived my eternal pain
caught you giving her stare
but you pleaded me to have your share

oh dear me
when you'll be free
every time I visit the memory lane
I find you brewing the same pain

I think its me
who made the history
and you're just
reliving my past!

you're not the one to blame
for my heart that's burning in flame
because of the mistake I made in past
till my last breathe I feel it will last.

let it last however long;
it will and let it come along
coz its the only mistake
for which I'll put my all at stake    

though it hurts to see you in pain
dear me, I'll keep visiting my memory lane
coz as you do
so I love her too!
its the only place
where this soul gets solace!
P.S.- is it compulsory to break down in this last sentence.
Yes I still Love You Madly...
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