Allá en la calle del olvido
se escuchan voces de vidas lejanas
dicen que el tiempo se detiene
y otros dicen que vieron espectros.

Allá en la calle del olvido
La citas son de 6 a 12
cuando la tarde llega
y se queda la noche.

Allá en la calle del olvido
me saludo una vieja amiga
venia contenta a verme
y nunca dejo de platicar.

Allá en la calle del olvido
la invite a un café
se quedo hasta tarde
pues me dijo con sus ojos
lo que el tiempo a olvidado.

Sí, fue allá en la calle
del olvido donde los
fantasmas se despiden
y otros como yo...
ya saben...  nos despedimos.

lostboy Nov 3

Whilst slipping out of the main street,
I reach for the feel of torn paper.
Fiddling a small ball of blu tac
that is squeezed into a round circle.

Make sure no one sees me.
For I have my way of putting up
a sophisticated form of graffiti;

In one glide of effort,
the black ink that is a poem
contrasts well with the white paper
and now a brick wall.

can't afford spray can
true story tho

We're disingenuous riff-raff,
leaden eyelids at half-mast --
Leggy and skirted,
we're skirting scraped knees
and toting battle-axes.

ST Rossa Oct 26

I saw this girl,
I remember we used to be bestfriends
some time ago.
She would tell me about her parents divorce
and i would listen and console her, little did she know that I was madly inlove.
Today she passed me on the street without a simple hello.

I felt bad, but realized
that maybe she didnt recognize me.

I've come far from that simple shy kid.

lostboy Oct 17

It's clear yet the lights glow a harsh deep yellow.
Here are the nights we crash, weep, and bellow,
So in each home we must stay low and keep close.
tells me
not to
let go.
Passion passes around our purposeful and personal pursuits.

The door opened, he entered
There was a whoosh of air
The Bluesman looked bedraggled
And he grabbed himself a chair

Cy, came out, he heard the bell
Saw the Bluesman, gave a smile
He said "I see the storm is worse"
"It's gonna keep up for a while"

The Bluesman looked around the store
Saw a guitar on the wall
"She's an old one hanging over there"
He called to Cy, now down the hall

He grabbed it, rubbed the neck some
He said "she's got a lot to say"
He went back to the wooden chair
And the Bluesman, he did play

"There's lots of music in this girl"
"So many songs not sung"
He looked back at the hook behind
Where this old guitar had hung

He sang songs about Jesus
about freedom, and the moon
Amazingly for the guitars age
It wasn't out of tune

Cy went to the pawn stores  back
returning with a flask
He'd brought the Bluesman medicin
The Bluesman continued with his task

"This old girls a treasure trove"
"She's just so full of words"
"Songs kept hidden for so long"
"Songs just waiting to be heard"

He played some more, the storm let up
He thanked Cy, took his leave
"An old guitar needs to be played"
"It's lost songs to be grieved"

"You know that you can play her"
"Whenever you come by"
The Bluesman turned and smiled
He held the flask given by Cy

"That old guitar is special"
"She's an old soul, just like me"
"I thank you for the offer"
"Time will tell, we'll see"

The Bluesman left the pawnshop
It was if he wasn't there
He went out back behind Gianni's
And sang his music to the air

Tori Schall Sep 18

I walk down these empty halls
gazing at the worn out walls
at the memories that I see
wondering what I was meant to be

Walking down this empty street
Averting my gaze from every stranger I meet
I cross the paths of dark and light
but soon the day is blotted out by night

The lights of stars illuminate my path
I kept walking, less I face their wrath
when memories are brought to the surface of my mind
I  wish desperately, pleading for them to rewind

back to a day where I could wander these roads
down worn-out paths that no one knows
but alas time has gone so fast
nothing gold, I guess, can last

Peter Balkus Sep 26

When people have nothing to lose,
they take to the street,
joined by others who have nothing too.
They march on, and shout,
they spill their anger out
on those who have more than them.

Life is not fair,
it makes them crawl, hungry,
couldn't afford the food,
living like rats, renting a box room
or one bedroom flat,
while having three kids, or four, or more
when the government blames it on them,
saying it's their fault.

Squeazed on the train, on the bus,
like a cattle, overworking-class, suffocating,
under ground
like miners in the mine,
like rats in the spout, trying to make it
to the light.

People take on the street,
when they have nothing to eat
and the shopping windows laugh at them
with expensive clothes and designer bags,
when they can't afford a fish and chips,
it laughs at them, from behind the glass,
and they smash the glass, they have no choice,
they smash the glass, invisible glass,
dividing them from them,
at stone's throw is their paradise.

They loot the place,
they have no choice,
for if ones have more and more
others have less and less
and less.

Liam Hunter Sep 23

I want to kiss you
Under a streetlamp at midnight
And suffocate in
Your molten breath.

Use canned spaghetti as thread to stitch together the frayed edge of your t-shirt. Use your t-shirt to show how you’re the coolest most-hippest, most up with the kids kid there is. Where’d you get that shirt? Online.

Bop your head to the music so they know you know this song. Harder or they won’t see you. That’s not hard enough. Neck snap! Yeah, right there. Hold still while I take a photo. Do you mind if I make this my cover photo?

Take a selfie of you crying in the bathroom and hashtag it. Snapchat it to your local MP so they know how you feel - be sure to use an emoji. #studentdebt Tears streaming down your face. (If it’s a hashtag it’s easier to emotionally process.) #policebrutality #throwbackthursday #massincaceration It’s a good thing there’s emojis for black people now. Look at how far we’ve come!

#nomakeup #vegan #crueltyfree #childslavelabour #iwokeuplikethis #campusrape #notallmen #yesallwomen #freethenipple #2k16 #mentalhealthcuts #stopkillingtranswomen #waterislife #standwithstandingrock

Have you followed Human Rights on Facebook? It’s the only way to get them. Have you seen the Ted Talk about it? In just 20 minutes you’ll know everything there is know about it.

Sorry. You don’t seem like you’re focused. You’re thirsty? Let me make you a smoothie.
I’ll put the chocolate bar in the blender whole, leave the wrapper on. Taste the tinfoil and the plastic. Eat the barcode, become the product. That’s modern life.

Don’t take out the hair or the fingernail or the Band-Aid. Don’t hide from the human components of the production line that made this Kit-Kat possible for you, kid. That’s modern life.

Go to the voting booth, refuse to choose between the diversity of 50 versions of the same smiling white man. Scrawl: Fuck these pricks! (have no faith in none of them) That’s modern life.

With jittering teeth and goosebumps, put your toaster in the sink. Overflow it with water. You will only need a fork to get warm. Electrocution is the most economical form of heating. Be Energywise. That’s modern life.

Puff marijuana smoke through the bars into the brown faces of those who were incarcerated for doing what you freely do now. That’s modern life.

Burn your eyes on the screen. But before you do, memorise the 0800 number for the optometrist.

Post your suicide note on YikYak to save paper. No-one likes reading hard copies these days anyways. #papercuts #selfharm

Search for motivation on EBay. If you’re lucky it’ll have free shipping and arrive in 1-5 business days.

Snapchat your friend’s words of encouragement, God knows they’ve seen enough dickpics.

Take a chicken to KFC and tell them you’re sorry.

Get in the cars of the men who yell “Hey baby!”. They’ll be so surprised they wont know what to do next.

Swap your woman-chest with a man-chest and see if your nipples are still illegal.

Drive through town throwing dirt with one hand and seeds in the other. Maybe, if you do it long enough this claustrophobic concrete will be gone.

Bleed on every seat until the government pays for menstrual products.

Train seagulls to throw YOU chips.

Fuck a woman and a man simultaneously, so that you can be sure everyone knows you’re bisexual.

Blockade inaccessible buildings with piles of wheelchairs.

Grab time by the fabric and rip it, cuz we all know rips look really punk, and all you really are is just some young punk.

i wrote this last year and i hated that poetry class too
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