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Adri Sep 21
One of my earliest memories,
was that of watching western movies.
I craved that consistency
The intangible prospect of
the same storyline,
the same happy endings,
that existed universally within them:
Cowboy gets the girl,
they ride away.

I knew they were just that:  
I never believed
in the idea that one could have
a fairytale ending,
like that.
I never believed  
in having hope,
like that.  
Until I met him.  
I called him cowboy.
I was his, as he was mine.
Every week I knew he would be waiting.
Rushing around,
he was full of the life and energy
that I needed the most
in those darkest of times.  

We spent every day that we could
Together, inseparable.
muffled in each other’s arms.
Sitting together for hours
our only worry,
would be the passing of the distant trains.

Falling into such a routine
became my hope,
My own happy ending.
As the world changes seasons
all things beautiful,
inevitably change.

I could smell his breath from across the truck,
thick and stagnant.
The girl had been my friend.
I had trusted her,
trusted them both more than life itself.
“How could you do this to me?”

The courage to say it effortlessly fills me,
I feel it leave my mouth
like petals in the wind.
Stuttering over his words
rendered meaningless,
his adrenaline drunken eyes
search my soul to form an answer,
to such a simple question.

“Get out,” he says.
My mouth quivers
trying to process his enraged words
He repeats himself,  
“You heard me. Get out of the truck.”
With the opening of this final cage door
and the fresh smell of diesel
left standing in the air
serenaded by the squeal of his tires,
I was left standing alone.

I was free at last.
With the dark silhouette of his truck against the sunset,
growing smaller and more distant,
he was gone.
The cowboy rides away,
this time leaving the girl.
This is really, really difficult for me to talk about-much less publish it to the general public. If you're reading this, I forgive you. I hope you're doing okay, and I just want you to know that I'll never stop loving.
Norman Crane Sep 23
That gibberish he talked was city speak,
Gutter talk near the Tannhäuser Gate:
Memories, you're talking about memories,
Moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain,
All I could do is sit there and watch him
die. Slow thing and he fought it all the way,
Where do I come from? Where am I going?
Go to Hell or go to Heaven, I'm afraid,
That's a little outside my jurisdiction,
Fiery the angels fell / deep thunder rolled,
Ships on fire off shoulder of Orion,
More human than human is our motto,
I watched him die all night. To have feelings,
I've seen things you people wouldn't believe.
Created from lines from Ridley Scott's 1982 film, Blade Runner.
Norman Crane Sep 17
The idea had been growing in my brain,
Queens, fairies, dopers, junkies, sick, venal,
They are all animals anyway,
Become a person like other people,
Organization is necessary,
All the animals come out at night,
There never has been any choice for me,
Wash all this **** off the streets. My body fights,
There is no escape. I am God's lonely man,
Headaches that stay and never go away,
Thank God for the rain. Wash the garbage and
cannot put it back together again,
One day there will be a knock on the door,
and it will be me. What hope is there for (me?)
This poem was created from lines of dialogue spoken by Travis Bickle in the 1976 film Taxi Driver, directed by Martin Scorsese and written by Paul Schrader.
Jessica Sep 5
Make believe
In a worthy heart
That oceans dance like flame
In the blue winds of the East
That memories remain resplendent
In the movies that replay in our minds
A worthy beat
Watching the world
Pass me by,
Through the window of
A moving vehicle
I'm a passenger
But this imagery feels like the movies,
Where some serendipitous event happens
At this very moment,
When you are pondering over life
Through your little window
You wake up to realize that this is the real-life
A journey with random stops,
Varied stories,
Vivid dreams,
But unlike life, there's a fixed destination
To that journey
While life is more of an endless cesspool
Of unrelated chaos
The destination is not etched into your hands,
The destination is what you make of it
Well, maybe there is no point
In trying to get all the answers to my questions
It took me a while to figure out how
It ain't all that bad,
How I'm happy and glad
For the good times that I've had
Not all-in for always living in the moment,
Just trying to live more in the good ones
Destiny and life go hand-in-hand
Maybe I should not let my life go bland
I should take decisions and actions,
Rather than waiting for the signs that I can understand.
Michael Ryan Aug 17
We will always take for granted
the unreal people
that filter through our lives
each and every day,
where motion pictures
show us to never give up.

The irony is that it's not faux people
that lead us to believe in magic,
it was the real people behind the fake
that chose to keep the music flowing.

Who knows who they really are;
it doesn't matter when it's about
life or living for nothing.

If there's something to learn -
it's to learn to take chances.

Doing nothing is simple and tedious.
Opportunity is purpose and effortless.

Risk less, chance more.
Not much of a coherent thought, but it's better to do something than nothing?  I can work in a convenience store  for the rest of my life; saying, "the opportunity never came for me to do something else", or I can be humbled that I did TRY.
Jessica Aug 3
A moonlit forest
Thunder and rain weeping onto the ground
To the sound of Requiem by Mozart
An otherwise empty and somber scene
With the occasional hopeful glimmering of stars
It’s all the more solemn
Considering the Gershwin that played earlier
In this Life
To accompany the sun and birds that looked lively and newborn
A cityscape awash with flowers on a summers day
Only to fade from D to D Minor
As the sky was flooded with darkness
And life was shown in its’ true form
As it neared the end of the film
I had it figured out
Before it shattered away into pieces
Then I went on a journey
To get it all back, like in the movies

I got more confused than before
Worked a lot & got high everyday
I've seen the depths of darkness
Even though I descended into madness
Confidence is a fickle thing sometimes
Remind me again
of the where and when of it,
it’s slipping through my finger memories
and my heart slows

Tell me of the Technicolor past,
even with the scratched film stock
I need to see it again
to affirm the mummers truth
and rest easy

I know you tire of the words,
of me,
sorry, sorry me

But the third reel is fixed
and the epilogue’s flickered approach
rattles near

Before the credits roll
narrate me a last flashback
to suspend our disbelief in
E Jun 26
I met a girl
Her name was Katie
She sang the blues
Loved scary movies

We fell in love
And for a year
She was a blanket
Warming me up

It’s been a decade
I still love her
I’ll never get over you
Are you there, Katie?
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