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Winnalynn Wood Jan 2024
You left me crying in the hotel bathroom
You left me spying in the restaurant too

You saw me for who I am
Then went up and ran
While I’m working on my tan
Trying not be who I am

Gotta stop begging you to stay
And turning up the Lana del rey
Cause I’m no one’s Brooklyn baby
I’m feeling just a bit crazy
Malia Jan 2024
Bathed in the amber light
I watch these fields in slumber
Resting beneath scattered snow
As the music crescendos.

The mountains gleam in the distance
But every crevice and branch
Is coated in gold
Like a remnant of Midas’ touch.

Peace washes over me
A purifying, gentle force.
The sky’s tender blue
Kisses the horizon.
Anais Vionet Jan 2024
One evening, in a sleepy Connecticut town, the locals saw a peculiar sight,
a UAP had landed in an empty field, and man, it lit up the night.

They were, axiomatically, from a distant galaxy, here to explore our shared cosmic space,
their metallic-*******-rocket was multicolor pastel bright, like a carnival showcase.

There were cows that mooed approvingly and dogs that barked up at the sky,
like they needed to show where the thing came from - no one really knew why.

Soon little green people-like beings emerged, they had big, wide eyes that looked eerie,
but then again, this is how they’d always looked in movies and on TV.

"Take us to your leader," they said, but it was hard to take them seriously,
because this is America and most of us disagree on who that leader should be.

Someone brought out lawn chairs and the alien-astronauts settled in,
tables appeared shortly thereafter with a spread of pies, casseroles and fried chicken.

They spoke of their interstellar journeys, of planets far and wide,
of space cafes and wormhole highways and how gravity worked like tides.

One of the kids played some music and the explorers started to move,
soon we were having a dance-off - which they won - with some wacky, cosmic moves.

As morning light edged the horizon, our little green friends waved goodbye,
after saying that in some ways they envied us and our simple terrestrial lives.

Though they never promised to revisit, when the sky turns certain shade of blue,
townsfolk will set up a pasture party - just in case they do.
(*BLT Marriam Webster word of the day challenge: Axiomatic: something understood as obviously true*)
Peter Rogers Jan 2024
Safe
He's safe from the grave
Breathe
He's braver than me
I stopped believing again
He's seized more of life
In him
Ooooo

Too weak
Too weak and I'll leave
Two weeks
Two weeks and he's ceased
He fought for his needs forgiven
And see
I'll be on my knees
'Fore him
'Fore him
'Fore him

Ok

Keep it going
Excerpt from the album Number Two Son (2024).
Peter Rogers Jan 2024
Working for the Four Bros Auto
Woulda thought you'd hit the lotto
Buy 'em cheap, sell 'em fast's a motto
Though, no hard sell's tough to swallow

And there
There, there they are
They're all there
Their heirs
And as ne'er
The simple promise
Of sold
And swell

One day they came, they drug us out a well
Let us know that they'd come to sell
Handing the reigns to a fortune five hell
Pure skim show turned to spoilt milk

And there
There, there they are
They're all there
Their errs
And with scissors
In their hands
To cut
The fat

We want all of you, fat cat said with a laugh
In fact, we're wanting half of what you've asked
A family's yours when you look in your past
We're looking to explore a store without tracks

And there
There, there they are
They're all there
Their airs
And now where's
The dotted line
To
Follow?

Though, no hard sell's tough to swallow
Buy 'em cheap, sell 'em fast's a motto
Woulda thought you'd hit the lotto
Working for the Four Bros Auto
Excerpt from the album Number Two Son (2024).
Peter Rogers Jan 2024
Come on
Let's go
We've got their gold and bronze
Come on
Slow poke
I'll race you to the dawn

Before
They know
What hit them we'll be gone
Ghost town
Who knows
No one around to con

Little
Riddles
Run rings around your arms
Pretty
Cities
Can't see them when they charm

After
Laughter
I'll give your folks a call
Say we
Stay the
Night and day if they want

I'm shot
You're shot
God stop this ****** song
We're caught
Like sod
Seeping right through their lawn

Will you
**** two
Birds with one hanging on
Come on
Slow poke
No one around to con
Onnn
Excerpt from the album Number Two Son (2024).
Peter Rogers Jan 2024
Dum
Da da dum
Da da duuuuuum

Just outside a month
And twenty five days further from
A widower will take his life
Neither the body, nor the name will be known
A person, a being, who in the next year or so
Perhaps notorious of
Blood feuds, bank heists, and back alley exploits
Will be pure future myth
With talks of

In the soon to be abandoned old pick up truck of theirs
A gallon of gas with room to be half
Will spill out onto the cold, black
A quarter to four in the mornin'
Asphalt
Green-yellow dregs of diesel will ease their way down the vehicle

A Friday with fog will roll in from the west
A dog, a mutt perhaps
Will sniff its way past the front end of the tree trashed truck
The motor will jolt in and out of its normal sequence
In discordant chugging pitter-patter accordion metal-licks of ruckus
Like in the days to come
Death's canine will want an impression
Of his master's woodwork
With barks of

After all that I will have been through
And 'fore I will have known your name
And after all I will have done for you
You will have dug yourself a shallow grave
A shallow grave
A shallow grave
A shallow grave
Excerpt from the album Number Two Son (2024).
Peter Rogers Jan 2024
His silhouette lingers
And still I have yet to let him know
A metal through his fingers
Is the only bond
That keeps us
Close

I've tried to move from it
But his mark finds wherever I go
Believing I've lost it
There in my mind
Lives his ghost

What turns your back when you sense someone's broke in?
What makes you laugh when you see it's an old friend?
Who burns your past when your future is frozen?
Who breathes their last whilst being unnoticed?

All silence is golden
All silence is golden
All silence is golden
All silence is golden

You're on the run now
Under the gun of someone's scope
The line won't catch up to you, no
It only burns a thinner rope
But I'm so proud of how
You've escaped every beaten road
No matter how this turns out
I will know
You played it cut and cold

What turns your back when you sense someone's broken?
What makes you laugh when you see it's an old friend?
Who burns your past when your future is frozen?
Who breathes their last whilst being unnoticed?

All silence is golden
All silence is golden
All silence is golden
All silence is golden
Excerpt from the album Number Two Son (2024).
Peter Rogers Jan 2024
Here in silence, sight the glow
Whereby creatures of night know
Run a rosary in hand
Or else fight
The Flashlight Man

He walks by windows left unlocked
He floods his books with checks of chalk
Some call for help, some have no plan
Though none have knocked
The Flashlight Man

He waits for winter, when all is wind
When wood would be sparse and sparks burn dim
Where flint will be flakes unless inland
Still, some have witnessed
The Flashlight Man

He watches the light go out in bedrooms
What once hosted life, hosts time's ghosts in tombs
Some bottle up time, some sink in their sands
Yet, no nightmares dream of
The Flashlight Man's

He wrings out what's left of what's right and what's wrong
He brings out the best in some boasting in song
Some find him friendly, but soon find that they can't
Who's wise knows someone close
As The Flashlight Man

Asleep by dawn, cocoon by noon, deadly by dusk
In crimson cloaks he clasps his croaks and keeps the husk
One has been told, of age of old, a kid that ran
His name, I'll tell, you know so well
The Flashlight Man

Oooooo
Ooooo
Oooo
Excerpt from the album Number Two Son (2024).
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