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J J Sep 27
On again,off and then departing
From homeward sail based in the sky--
I heard the woman gowned in all phantom white
Wandering the gardeny streets,
Her barefooted steps concussing the concrete.

She walked beside me and watched as I trembled
With her eyes that windowed memories in the same way
A camera captures a scene or a seashell a slice of the ocean
And I never think to ask the whole story.

Her lips permanently signal silence,
Her skin porcelain like her nails and teeth
   And when she speaks,it's in a lilt so light it sparks your bones.

'Do you think it should rain later this morning?'
As relayed,my bones spark and my heart edges closer
To my throat. 'The sky is static-grey and gloomy as is'
She replied 'yes, but some rain would give it some character'

We spent the remaining wander without a word
   Then the woman dissapeared. On my way home
I felt droplets bite through the fabric of my shoes
    And I suppose the woman got her answer.
Sunny white morning brushed through the bushy clouds.
Austin Hunt Sep 16
Two bros converged into a fellowhood
And stoked to share their Fight Club quotes
And be two broskis, juiced they stood,
And shotgunned PBRs, long as they could,
till they were wrecked in a sweet-*** boat

Then proclaimed the bros, into the air,
“Turn on the flatscreen, let’s watch the game”,
it was Saturday so the day was theirs;
and as they sat in their folding chairs,
the smell of axe the air became

And clad in their Costas they loudly played
a song no bro’s cracked iPhone lacks.
Oh, they know their bops like they know their whey!
They smelled their teen spirits and exhaled away,
JUUL clouds of fruit flavors with swag densely packed.

There is no replacing these two guys
and their dudely jockish fashion sense.
Two bros converged as two would, and aye-
They forged the path bros travel by,
a path of bliss and ignorance.
Austin Hunt Sep 16
we say
that “nothing lasts,”
and we’re too old to ask
why gold can’t stay past

we get
by folded, passed,
and sold en masse,
kept cold and

we choose
to mold and mask
ourselves solely after
the soulless laughs
that leave us

it’s true
that holding fast
is bold, but glass
breaks wholly grasped
when heedless

with hearts left
swollen, gashed
from a scroll-on-past
control mastered
with age

we chase
a goal of basking
in rolling grasses
where something gold
can stay
Stephen James Aug 16
a man with slavery
deep in his ancestry
asked a simple question
at Beto's town hall

he wanted to know
white Beto's thoughts
regarding illegal aliens
and American jobs

in reply Beto said
without an ounce of dread
that legal Americans
refuse to work cotton gins

and to the shock and amazement
of every non-racist
the crowd then roared
with thunderous applause
a poem
I hope one day I get meet you in person.
So I can tell you how much you mean to me.
You’ve helped me through me depression that we can agree.
Even though you weren’t there physically to be a comfort
I found comfort in your smile no matter how much I suffered.
You mean the world to me I hope you know that’s true.
Please know that i love you.
Thank you for being the hero that you are
You are the best person I’ve looked up to by far.
He can dance with  the beats
of his own heart.

While climbing
  high up
in the skyscraper.

There lies his

Up there he
  to conquer.
This is a poem dedicated to Mr. Alain Robert the French 'Spider Man'.
Reflect upon the history that's left behind
swim in the ocean of predictions and expectations
gliding along with the arrow of time
orbiting moments of quick sensations
as we dance round in a ring and suppose
but the Secret sits in the middle and knows.
Lady Ravenhill Dec 2018
Whose lake is that? I think I know.
Its owner is quite sad though.
It really is a tale of woe,
I watch her frown. I cry hello.

She gives her lake a shake,
And sobs until the tears make.
The only other sound's the break,
Of distant waves and birds awake.

The lake is crystal, cold and deep,
But she has promises to keep,
Until then she shall not sleep.
She lies in bed with ducts that weep.

She rises from her bitter bed,
With thoughts of sadness in her head,
She idolises being dead.
Facing the day with never ending dread.
Lady Ravenhill 2018
Thanks to Robert Frost for the underlying structure.
Brandon Conway Aug 2018
Stream of consciousness
traveling down tin cans and a string
going on about Romulus
and ramblings, vibrating in between
half a world away
keeping each other awake
thanks again
for the company
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