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Ioan Hazell May 29
Oil on canvas,
folks watching a nuclear blast
from sun loungers, deck chairs,
reclining and bathing.
Smug with the smallness of surrounding mountains,
the smallness of all things
against seraphic light.
There, the sky is about them,
eggshell and peeling
slowly away to reveal this chance;
this guess at what is what and how
it came to be exactly what.
Curling, spoiling, whining, laughing,
crooning down upon each balden head.
The earth will bed
these minding smiles,
its carers,
all long laboured miles
in whatever manner most appeals
when the chairs are folded,
the loungers breathless, suffocate in the attic,
eyes, opals turned,
milk in the baby's bottle,
lists written and
the clock face down, unticking.
Based on Edward Hopper's 'People In The Sun'
deadhead Apr 4
a resinous soul
and the smell of burning tar
slick and dense like oil
Man Apr 1
on the wall
hung a clock
melting in the day's ire
running toward the ground,
it ran fast sometimes
and occasionally
mind numbingly sluggish

in the washbasin
the rags i wore
soaked in a soapy stillwater
waiting for the wash
that these tired hands
must do

these blemished hands
how they hurt
strained from work
like the oil stains
on his shirt
they are worn
they are torn
and are without comforting
though his resolve is strong
his will is weak
from the havoc wreaked
from a life of low pay
struggling to live
week to week
knowing you deserve better
coralium Feb 3
a kelp forest fire
man-made pelagic demise
the vengeful tides rise
Man Feb 1
ash world wishes
stacked high dishes
gluttony's their missus

countless stolen oil barrels
countless good men, turned feral
their dreams and hopes
made sterile
off the poison of falsehood


how does she cope
mother of one
on her own
without others, none
bills need paying
her pain needs staying
where is her life
has she become
nothing more
than mom?

older man with a near toothless mouth
a troubled man, whose prospects
he is without
values, virtues, and beliefs
he hates himself more
minute, day, week
when did he peak
and out from in
he's always been afraid
to be genuine
he's not himself
he's never been
i don't think he'll ever be
in the end

neither will
cause one is dead
and the other dies
a much slower death
their lives amounted
to be the selfless work they put in
though i got to meet mom and dad
i never knew them
i hope there's a chance to meet
once again
Man Jan 31
its all franchises
as far as you might see
burger joints, taco houses, and pizza parlors
dot the horizon

the whole lot
greasier than the pan
than the canola oil, a whole can of pam

its warehouse-sized stores
full of disgruntled
shuffling cheap trash
package to shelf
packaged for the shelf
in anticipation to sit

listen a while
under the low murmur
of the machine humming
you can hear ma n pop wailin'
A M Ryder Oct 2020
You drink
You drive
And ruthlessly try
To have a good time

Down slicken oil streets
Pavement like a pistol
To my temple, meets

The cure to my cancer
And the answer
To my every problem
Pockets Aug 2020
We all want change 
But we don't wanna change 

We say keep the change
Like we don't need the change
Like we've never counted out dimes to buy cigarettes or beans

We're 2000 miles over on an oil change 
We don't like to think about what we can change 

We change our mind
We change our hair
We change our *** 
We change our friends

We change the channel 

But we don't change

We don't wanna change 
How can you change what makes you the same

Winds change and we get blown away
Because we don't wanna change 

Isn't that strange
Faith Jun 2020
Two women
One sobbing, one singing
Two women in one body
My body

Two women
Separate in emotion and desire
Separate by what they see
Out their windows

One woman
Sees nothing but good. She
Is kind and open and she loves continuously
She never stops giving and she does
Not regret it. Not a bit at all
She is a river

One woman
Sees the mundane and is reminded
Of he, the fire, who hurts her, he who
Kills her with his not caring
She does not distance herself, fearing she
Will lose herself too when she does
She is oil-
And she hates herself for it

Two women
One aching, one at rest
United in one vessel of flesh
A vessel at war with itself
My flesh
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