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blazing soul May 12
"Mr Boon"
It's really been a while I came across that adorable senile man " Mr Boon", maybe he's just too vexed with me,  maybe he's not please with our last meeting, cause I was too rash on the dusty.
Oh dear good senile man "Boon" don't be too ******* me not to pave on my pavement again. I know, I might have just been quite infantile the last time, and we never learn. But does not everyone deserve a twoth?
Boon,  With,   vexed,  pavement.
KM Hanslik May 3
I'm sitting at a stop sign with my tongue tied & my brain fried,
oozy sunny-side-up on the pavement
they tell me "look at the bright side" as if the sun could talk,
but no, I'm shooting blanks
on a half-tank of chemical reuptake;
here's a mouthful of soap, keep your insides clean

stuff a drawer with hope for the rainy days;
'cause we worship the heat like we're trying to get cancer,
I'll spill from my lips what I don't want to eat,
and worship every dancer for a flaw that knows them better;
insert needles into inked-up skin, then burn out every letter,

we'll burn that bridge when we get there,
make it a public monument
picking pennies out of muddy boot-prints,
but **** it, if the shoe fits
keep your luck in a jar so it can't run out like your bank account,
resuscitate me in a desert so I can get used to the drought;

& we've all got a cutscene we'd rather not talk about
so here's the uncensored take,
after I spoon-feed you the low-stakes version
(try not to choke)
this is every mistake on a half-tank of reuptake
try to fill up your plate while your bank goes for broke;

take it up a notch and watch me free-fall down the ropes
while you climb the ladder with 5 dead bodies and a *** tape,
call it a playdate with fate
& see how long the relapse takes
after your firewall fills with smoke.
Wet pavement shining
tail-lights like rockets flaring
cars fly down the road.
Written on March 30th 2013 this was inspired by the way the light reflects off the wet pavement looking like a rocket flare going straight down beneath the car
RH 78 Jan 2019
Green strips upon copper coloured chimneys.

Slushy puddles refill as the single line traffic churns up choke inducing fumes.

Frilly octagon honey comb with their black on polka dot polyester.

Grey meets black amongst hustle and bustle broken by car toot and shoe shuffle.

Pavement lights shape shift as rumble follows rumble.

Green strips upon copper coloured chimneys.
Head down to central London.... evoke the spirits of the past.. urban life carries on no matter what the weather... we get our fair share of wet in these parts!
Anthony Mayfield Jul 2018
Dance, my son
Dance in the grass
The pavement is constricting
It leaves you numb to true feeling
So dance in the grass
Dance in the grass
Be snazzy
Be jazzy
Create your own craze
The grass sings to your bare feet
True joy for days
The pavement is for those
Who follow the path
But those who invent their path
Dance in the grass
The pavement walkers will stare
But when you’re dancing you don’t care
A tango
A waltz
A rhythm your own
The grass understands
The pavement can’t atone
Barefoot and fancy free
Dancing in the grass
What a sight to see
Follow your own path and go your own way. And while you're at it, feel free to dance a little.
Kivanc Jun 2018
september morning,
pavements are yellow,
bulbuls are separated.
miguel Dec 2017
there's a long way
to go before
we get home.

it's odd how i
find comfort walking
in these deep, dark
places.

maybe i don't need to
let the light shine
on the pavement.

but maybe,
i just do not
have to.
i hope i don't get englufed in the darkness.
Daisy Rae Jul 2017
your beauty lasted many years
newly set, your color shined
nothing made you hurt
you sure were tough
but over time that changed
we watched as you started to crack
we glued you when you needed it
but something was very wrong
you were falling apart
and pieces of you went missing
after awhile we forgot about you
and stopped watching out for cracks
present day and you're all scarred up
as i walked down to get the mail today
i noticed how bad you had gotten
cracks went all the way up and down your spine
your sides were shattered
you looked like you took yourself apart
and tried to glue yourself together again
i studied your scars and pieces
and wondered how we had forgotten
that you were hurting and breaking
i understood that you had went through a lot
as people came and went
you slowly lost your muster
but you weren't any less beautiful than before
you carried your scars like a champ
your dim color meant you had experience
i looked at you in a different light
your pieces were mosaics
and your color reminded me of thunderstorms
stormy, yet beautiful after it was over
this cracked pavement was overlooked
i now go get the mail more often
Maria Etre Jun 2017
The birds chirped
differently today
the wind smelled like change

The roads seemed smoother
the sun a bit warmer
and my hair
curlier

The music beat in synch
with my feet
as they stomped their
way on the pavement
vibrating life into
the concrete that has
memorized my feet

Could it be that I have
found the pace
that's written for me?

Or could my words
have stitched themselves
into my reality
fabricating bits and pieces
of my fantasy
to suit me?
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