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East Wind Jan 2019
How do I find it?
the way home seems so hard.
walk over mountains,
hope the mountains won't collapse.
what day is today?
the day I meet my chance...
the chances are, I don't know how
far I can walk

I know the trees talk
              the trees talk
they call my name so clear and proud
what do they say when I'm not around?

Find me a willow tree
so I can rest my head
when the morning breaks
hope to find my bed instead
what day is today?
the day I find my place
but the chances are, I don't know how far
I can walk

I know the trees talk
              the trees talk
I wonder if they'll answer if I ask
Don't leave here
fruits may be poison
don't leave me here
the way home is what I seek
    Find me a house with the lights on
                                  with the food warm
                                  with the bed firm
    Find me a house with the clock on
                                  compass north
               So I can find my way home.
emma hunt david Dec 2018
i am always carrying your name under my tongue, in that small place under my tongue and i don’t think i’m ready yet to loosen my lips and let you slip out and leave me forever because thats a scary thought, thats a **** scary thought. I’d be more comfortable cutting off my own arm or going blind or being spat into the middle of the ocean because that’s just physical, that means nothing, i have another arm, and i have my memories, and i could probably swim enough to reach some kind of island or strip of land  or even just let nature take control and pull me into the arms of the big blue babe and she’d kiss me and show me her shiny shells and dead bones of fish collected in piles on the floor and i’d live down there forever and i would crawl out of my weight and leave it in a collected pile on the floor and i’d float through the air and i’d breathe deeply full of water and i’d be water and she’d be water and we’d be water and it wouldn't matter if i love you or if i’m just afraid because i’d be water and you’d be bones and blood and brains and i’d just be water, and you can’t confuse water with anything else but water but bones and blood and brains are messy and thick and runny and easily confused with things like spaghetti and red paint and death and i want to be water. clear and unmistakable.
but i’m not water, i am also bones, and i am blood, and i am brains, and i’m not one bit clear.
A Simillacrum Jan 2019
Leg over leg
Blue to the face
Late monitor light
Cat napping nearby
For me, small sleeps
The numbers skip
Red won't betray

All my ends
Approach and collect   dust
Is it   worth it?
Probably
Not, but I am sense   less
Is it   worthless?

Take it from your
future self:
Yes, absolutely.
Let red devour
all your plans.
Reign supreme
where we
enjoy our curses.
laura Jan 2019
A quiet safe place,
which you love to call your home,
Is the place to be
A Simillacrum Jan 2019
How clean is clean
when the cleaning began
from the floor of a sunken ship?
Barnacles grace the walls in the place
of family, or a familiar face.

When filth is a given, and given
in projection to the overtly empathetic
as a matter of course, why implore?

Because you don't implore,
you explore as an entity
reaching for a meaning.

The question becomes,
do you fight, or do you invite
the coming cessation?

Even with a gun, and a view to ****,
the power the bullet affords
would surely fail to thrill you.
The best charlatans paint your hands red,
as you're sleeping in bed, preemptively.

Let the liars lie, let the builders connive.
Uninterrupted access to their own confines.
To Narcissus, the cool nod is colder than the knife.

Let the liars lie, let the builders connive.
When the company you keep requires the sacrifice
of your authenticity and your reality, just leave.

It'll never get good. It'll never get great.
It'll never be worth the investment.
Shlomo Jan 2019
Part I

When in doubt blame the black man.
Doubly so if it rhymes with that man,
the crack man. The cap man, the rack man. We got you on a lock man.
Shoot em, **** em, **** em up, all the way up!
Till he's nothing but black, man.

*** what could be worse than being black?
A half-man.
Ubiquitous; everywhere, but fits in with no man.
Woman? The last said there's something off about that man.

Part II

All I did was swipe right, and now it feels like a wrong turn.
"Maybe it's just not your turn yet."
Or maybe I'm trying too hard, with nothing but bad bets.
Feelings of desperation, manipulation is **** near perpetual.
**** it. I'm just tryna get another quotable, man.
https://shlomotion.co/poems/black-and-right/
A Simillacrum Jan 2019
I got dem B-Side blues,
perforated shoes
of my own design,
off color flag of mine.
I got dem prescriptions,
I'm passively shunned
by the typical,
like it matters at all.
I got dat bizarre brain,
patterns I contain
automatically
run 'crash.exe'.
I got dat problem child
run rampant wild
here within my ranks -
what deserves thanks?
Nothing at all.
And everything.
I know this well, now.
Matthew Rousseau Jan 2019
Stuck in a chair,
Mind disappeared somewhere,
No time, and no care,
No place out of there
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