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Tommy Randell Jul 2019
I wandered, lonely as a frown,
At midnight through my empty town.
Unmade by drink and celebration -
A meandering Wordsmith on some random peregrination
Maybe, finally, heading home.

Seagulls by the harbour side
Bickering and squabbling, waiting out the tide.
Water lapping, chuckling with laughter.
A bottle bouncing somewhere, ending with a shatter.
Window boxes overgrown.

Every shadowed alley, every darkened road,
With a writer's measured footfall, following my nose.
A couple kissing, or maybe even more so.
A cat arched & hissing, over a rat's beheaded torso.
A ****** on a traffic cone.

Steps go upward into unlit gloom.
Raucous laughter from a second story room.
The smell of Fish & Chips, vinegary & rank.
***** & Graffiti on the ATM at the Bank.
No bars open & no bars for a taxi on my phone.

Until at last a place to sit and soberize,
Looking down on the rooftops with less bleary eyes,
The yachts at moorings along the harbour side,
The sandy beach a golden margin 2 miles wide,
The moon, a ball of polished chrome.

Midnight into morning is this Poet's time for sure -
The waves of words surfed for pleasure,
Life as metaphor and meaning given breath,
Moments found & fashioned into ideas at their best
Hopefully, and then some...

Home unerringly, the long way round.
Bed inevitably, after I've written the evening down.
It's what poets do. We've got an extra chromosome,
We're driven to it like it's a scribbling syndrome -
Our DNA probably has a Rhyming Genome!


Midnight Into Morning - Tommy Randell
I have walked home many many times through my town in the small hours. I follow different routes depending on my tiredness or my sobriety. I stop and look into its shabby corners or listen to its night times moods. It is a luxury and a gift this small place is safe enough for old daft poets like me.
Delta Swingline Jun 2017
I guess I should start by saying that I don't really believe in other universes or alternate dimensions.
But sometimes I like the idea of manipulating where I am now into something... better?

Only to find that I'm not in that kind of better place.

So... until I reach that realization again, here I go.

In another universe, we met at the auditions for my first musical. I wasn't scared to audition because I finally wanted to put myself out there as a singer.

We both get chorus parts... figures.

In another dimension, I was told to pursue my music career like it was the most important decision I was ever going to make.
I stick with it.

In another timeline, I spent every lunch hour making friends laugh at my dumb jokes.

In another universe, I never lost those friends.

In another timeline, those texts never made it to their phone. Maybe they didn't even get on the ship.

In another dimension, I never stopped hugging you.

In another world, I stuck with friends I had.

In another universe, there was never that fight. We never had a falling out, and there was never a time where we stopped being friends.

In another universe, I never got on that plane to Paris.

In another timeline, I finally recovered from losing all my friends. I finally got better.

In another dimension, I stopped writing about how much the past 5 months broke me.

In another universe I never hesitated to text anyone for fear of interrupting their life.

In another world, I never recover.

In another dimension, I never get over it. I let it consume me and I commit suicide. I never said anything to let anyone know when the end would come.

In another world, I spoke up and said I miss you.

In another dimension, we never met.

I guess that would be a sad place to be.

In another universe...

It never rained on the pride parade downtown. It stayed sunny, and people kept walking in full glow of their personality.

In another world, I did something or said something worthwhile.

In another dimension
In another universe
In another world
In another life...

I was gonna be okay.
And I knew somehow...
That we'd be there.
Together.

But none of these alternate realities exist.
I guess I just like the idea of another outcome.
Anything... anything but where I am now.
Sebastian Macias Jul 2016
It's the worry you need to get in front of
Run, walk, or crawl but keep moving
The ******* is a persistent ache
But it is you who create it and make it several hundred repeating thoughts at all hours of the night or day when the sun is high and you get lost in the bright bright bright lights of tomorrow
You cultivate the stampede of words that echo childishly throughout your mind as they fiddle with you
And if you let the big bulging tidal wave of anxiety and fear of tomorrow be one bigger than the tiny sentence you yourself created it actually is
Well, it's time to get up and check your clock and hands and apartment
You created this, this thing called "worry"
And in the end, you'll get rid of it
It's figuring how to, how to be ahead of this thing called "worry"
Reading, walking, working, sweating, driving, thinking about somebody you've ******, thinking of what you'll be able to get done tomorrow or right now or eventually, and it'll happen
Think of things bigger than the thoughts of worry of life of tomorrow
Think of what you're doing at the moment
Think of the World Cup or the driving test you took when you were a child
Think of the tv shows you laugh at
Think of the faces on the bus
Think of science think of painting
Think of your height or deli sandwiches
Think of the Tuesday night traffic you hear outside of your apartment window and think, where are they going tonight? Will my thoughts go with them or will I leave them here

— The End —