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Alan S Bailey Jun 2020
A million words, a million thoughts,
We've all been here writing till the end of time.
What new ones may have been brought?
It's all I can think of, did something happen?
Am I still original or am I out of line?

"Soon-to-be-victorious" you start the  song,
A dirge of memories past, till the very last.
The rhythm sounds like 'other time folk music,'
Played to an *****-like effect,
I guess you would be able to out-do my
Eccentric best.

Keep playing that well worn traditional back-days song!
You know I was here to **** you down all  along...
RW Dennen Aug 2014
They walk into darkness
exiled from fear.

Relinquished  cerebral thoughts,

freedom   wanes,

dissolved      into             rote-reality,

into a spirit of ****,

cast                        downtrodden,


embracing submissive                bogus         security.
Remember what old Ben said about loosing our future freedom
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
Your colors are so heavy, how dare I, I cannot sleep. Years inundated under, through skin coils, marigold fields. Yellow crocuses, orange California poppies. Moors of cattle ranchers, yokes of oxen. Plasticine uber-confidence, silky white-skinned testubular thrice people harmonies. Blisses of contagion, contagious bliss. Wrists and incisors, tying down in a bedroom, waking up to live harps and choruses. You dance like you're so alive, but I'm so alive I can't dance. Or breathe. Or knead my fists of earthen wears, or sell my soul completely. I drove off a cliff last night, but the four foot fall ended neatly. The plateau authors my chance to sew my bright, beyond- my fortunes. But the hour before I fall asleep, seems to be the greatest torture.

— The End —