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next to never (a pair of ones)

squeezed between nuh-uh and fugetaboutit,

is that long gone notion in the nation of concepts,

like one true love, the connected lines on each of our

bodies, certifying we are a pair of ones, a strong hand.


there are chores to be done:

reread Guy de Maupassant,

delete two thousand unread emails

cry for my so lost children

let Walt Whitman wash over my body like oil

kick the guy out of bed so he can make us coffee.

a ton of stuff to do, good thing, we got a strong hand,

that pair of ones.

which I am now informed is called a pair of

Aces.

Who Knew?

7:51 Sun Jul 12
Nylee May 2020
it is may
it is the end
it felt fast
to the end
here comes next
hope the rains wash
the pain it left behind
may it brings
back the lost time
it is may
which ends
.
V C Vaughn Apr 2020
She
She is who she is,
a classy sassy  woman.
She drives a tractor with the best of them.
She can use an emasculator,
hog tie a calf, castrate a boor,
Knock some sense into a 500lb steer,
give a rooster the what fore.
She is the Queen of her domain.
And
She wants an extraordinary, mad love,
full of passion anything else is a waste of her time.
She lives wild and works hard.
She doesn’t have time for midcore,
life is full of midcore and she’s had enough.
She wants a life full of flavor, color, texture,
good food, good whiskey, and passion.
But
Her mouth, woo she has the vocabulary,
of a poorly-educated sailor.
and
She can tell you where to go,
then make you look forward to the trip.
She’s easy to underestimate,
you know that harmless girl next door look,
a little nerdy funny is a sarcastic sort of way.
She’s been over looked often, and shakes it off,
until she walks away never to look back.
That’s when you realize what you lost.
And what a loss,
No one will love you like she did.
Nylee Mar 2020
Every thing has changed,
Nothing is the same.
I know more about not knowing
What will come next,
Just holding my breath.
Jonathan Moya Mar 2020
They are shoved into the silence,
the one that speeds down the road,
bumps and rattles disguising muffled horrors,
handkerchiefs in mouths, gloved palms
over squeezed lips tight as a kiss.
These are the ones soldiers are told to ignore,
to turn their backs on- civilians, friends,
family- just listen to the chain of command,
follow through on their one and only duty.
There is only them and the next green man
in front, and the next, and the next, next..
forming one long unbroken wall
to stem the disease in front of them.
The doctors and nurses are dead,
and now they must wear the masks,
glove, gowns the hazmat suits,
spray the disinfectant like Agent Orange
on everything that moves, eats, drinks, dreams.
The trucks in back are filled with those
surging to cross the border in front of them.
It could be Canada or Mexico, or just those
wanting to escape the land for the sea,
the ocean, to swim, sail in hopes of
finding their private island to populate.
The rich have bought their own countries,
separated themselves with a technological
continental drift that they do not share.
The middle class have marooned themselves
on the Great Pacific Garbage Patch
fighting for sustenance with gulls, *****, sharks.
Only the poor are left— and them—
the green men who pledged loyalty
to the Constitution and now know
just the orange beast who tore it up
and rendered it to ashes, the Congress
inhabited with lawmakers with
hands over their eyes, fingers in ears,
and palms over their mouths, that
know the knowledge and meals
the beast provides only to them.  
Freedom they know is not free.
it comes with the ****** of those
who disagree, those disloyal to the beast.
The green men are fed on K-rations, MREs.
Their Bibles, Korans, Torahs, all
their sacred knowledge, has been burned
and doused with ****. They know they and
the poor are the **** of this deaf republic.  
The green men hear the screams
in front and inside them.  They remember
when they fought for freedom and liberty,
or at least when it had meaning.  They dream
of the past, when America before the beast
was great again.  Their present eyes see only
themselves and the poor.  Those who sleep
in torn open air tents and live in cages
because the prisons overflow. They
close their eyes and they dream as
the poor surge forward to the border.  
They are too tired to stop them.  Nor do
they want to. They only just want to rest
and wait for the call of the next American Revolution.
John McCafferty Mar 2020
XY
Led between worlds
from where we once came
Lines of separation in our DNA
Multiple choice from limited modes
Strings are attached as you interact
with who we will match
Theoretical simulation code
Life becomes death and onto the next
All we leave is this game
(@PoeticTetra - instagram/twitter)
Bhill Mar 2020
appearances continue to be the decision-maker
we as animals need optic sensitivity first
what is next

Brian Hill - 2020 # 64
Dhimss Feb 2020
Looking back, i realise i fell
not for those boy next door looks
nor for the smooth words,
it was for the little things he did,
little things that showed he cared,
little things that stole my breath
and left me asking for more.
It just struck me hard, counting stars,
i almost lost my moon
cant tell you how much today meant to me. Maybe you knew but does nt matter, i ll say it, i love you
Colm Jan 2020
From a distant place
Your echo reaches me here
At this length
Like a drum in my ears
Your memory kiss reverberates
And shakes my very soul of souls
Creating in me a sound of old
Which slowly fades
And with anticipation
Waits
To hear the breath of all which once was told
Next yours my present face
https://youtu.be/OSv9vstpXMo
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