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Marissa May 2020
No matter the weather I depend on you forever, always with you making bank together.
I wish not to see you go, but I'm here to let you know that, no business too strong, no sale too low, I’ll talk the talk and win boardwalk.
You may raise the steaks, eat 'em with a shake, but I'll be the one to monopolize park place.

Every day, we continue to strive, simply because we are alive with a passion of conquest that will put any limit to the test.
Don’t tell us your rules, you fool, we pull the strings, so watch what you say, or everything you know of will go missing.
Beware, our empire expands at a rate, which will never yield any capitalist mistakes, because at our core, we are omnipotent nationalists.
We have climbed the steps, to the very top of the throne, and mark my words — the world will be ours to own.
Sometimes, it is fun to write poetry just for fun and dismiss any elements of seriousness. It unlocks a new realm of creativity. So, go write, let it be a little humorous, get a laugh out of it, and smile at the masterpiece you have created.
Derrek Estrella May 2020
In one breath, now
Lucidity takes hold
As the night in all its restless soul
Awakens from wicked slumber
And I, privy to the noise of nothing
Where every muted moan reaches out
And leaves scars on the skin
I dream of the car screeches
Stopping, loading a magazine
Releasing itself unto me
A burst of harsh light
And the noise of bullets
That could so easily meet me
As I sit, on the porch
Breathing in- letting out smoke
With my pants suffocating the waist
Purple the *****
Stiff the finger
I hear that violent, quiet thing
Sounds like a ringing tingle
Reverberate so cold
From some placeless footstep
A new kind of constriction
In the night's endless fiction
g Apr 2020
he is wearing lynx africa and i have a war playing out inside of me / i ring him / i tell him i have no money left / i say “i'm sorry you couldn’t **** the gay out of me” / he laughs like it’s his fault / i say it's fine and then i hang up / i think about how there will never be enough air in the atmosphere for me to breathe / my skin is infinite / i don’t have edges / it’s difficult to expect to not get touched when you live in endless skin / the air is hanging low tonight / lower than ever / i go to ring her / to tell her she is a gardener / a hospital-clean being / i don’t have her number anymore / i have to tell her about these hands / these old hands / how i think they caused chernobyl when i was someone else / i have to tell her that every word was a mistake / they were all just really bad spellings of her name.
copyright gb 2014
Derrek Estrella Apr 2020
Sleeves worn by broken trees-
I repeat
As the world goes on in glee
Defeat
No less a somber fellow
Borrow now he borrows

And burrows into your cotton cave-
A man
With a fluid feeling he misunderstands
Dead land
Where pain is of no mention
Tension here there tension

Indentations and stipulations on the seed of a neutered soul-
We must
And you lose or have lost it as you taste the cavernous hole
Of trust
Ribald fellow your weather betrays you it hangs your skull
On a lacking cloud that paints your spindly skin so dull

Gather what you must in the pool of shallow loving and shame-
No spine
As eminence confounds you and status escapes your stolen name
You shine
With the charms of dead brothers and the cruelty of a mother
Should you seek the soil now know that none will be bothered
Derrek Estrella Apr 2020
Epitaph of viscous fellow
Of whom I knew well without asking
And befriended while basking
In his whiskey nozzle chin
Milking his Acadian shin

Suffice it to say
How aroused was I!
To pet this neutered butterfly
His legs a stiff boulder
Caressed by petaled shoulders

Thick, incumbent man
Dream yourself a body
Where you are all but folly
And laugh at the notion
Of your ceaseless implosions
g Apr 2020
a man is talking at a house party on the other side of the canal/ people are talking around him/ occasionally laughter erupts and rushes rather than drifts on the air/ a car tyre screeches and somewhere a washing machine or a hoover or a truck cleaning the streets is humming/ my pen on the page is a hollow drag / my hand sticks to the paper as it moves left to right/ the music playing outside is a song i can't identify/
copyright gb 2020
Derrek Estrella Mar 2020
There, the caldera bevelled
In the spitting image of her bell
Looking shy above the shore
Was the essence of her smell
Liquids sharp, naked harp
A catamite in my succor
Graceless heave, tender sleeve
Pearly trailing tail

Entwine, surrender, entwine, surrender
Scintillating boy or throbbing girl

In new moments, waves collapsed
Ink lashed on our toothless gaps
A monkey washed, motions high
Pink shores creased, began to cry
Swelling up like a storm
Smells of Eden, the baby is warm
In the cool flame which sits down still
As it marvels at the hole that it filled
Overlapping with her blue commotion
Like two hills on a vicious plane
Eunoia sighs in consummated sky
They curled deep inside
The cavity of their hands

As vesper came, they awoke with no name
But there was something on their tongues
Derrek Estrella Feb 2020
Be quick. Gagging on blood.
Quickly, before the flood.
Brain is winding up.

Overflow

Crowbar eyes prying
Concrete wings flying
I am a passerby
Unaware of it all
A mathematician crawls on dad
A Cockney is ***** and filled with sand
Liquid sound
An accountant sings
Like the world is caving in
It must be
I feel it in my toes
Two muted trumpeter swans
Feed on a lake of rice
And I need no anger
To notice such beauty
Nor pain
For I feel it all
In equal amounts, incessantly
Written after losing my teeth.
Mike A Eyslee Feb 2020
You see it hears like rain that never stops pounding Light out the tires on sleching ground step stop skip to the next Light tires of holding the umbrella to rain on see gray dark squares shining yellow and my eyes my eyelashes my eye-irises are now cold gales of hair my eyes smart to Light tires on the ground lay shadow rain daps head my hair tires of the wind Light stroke of metal lines the tree tangles my eye my hair in my tongue daps of Light on road tires which looks and hears and smells and feels and licks like rain you see.
been reading "The Sound and the Fury" as of lately. tried to go for some on-crack (or as some may say, faulkneresque) stream of consciousness.
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