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Norman Crane Apr 30
on sunday mornings
the streets sigh
with hideous anticipation
awaiting an answer to a question—
is the city dead
or not yet awoken?
Anemone Mar 29
it used to be that royalty
treated everyone like peasants
not much has changed
though it has been re-arranged
he who holds the money holds the power
now listen kid, cause I know you've read the books and gone to school,
but you must learn a new set of tools
you have to be street smart
if you want to survive
the fact is
if you practice
we might just make it out of here alive
Mark Wanless Mar 21
went to see a wise
man on the mountain saw a
poor man on the street
Jonny blaze Feb 24
I ran off on the plug
He knew what he signed up for. Never trust a man that has nothing to lose with you as an opportunity to gain more traction more steam.
I want to live like a king whether it be by getting a corporate job with a high salary or  running with ratchets attached with a red beam.
Consequences will come as they always do with any situation but we’re not here to go over any stipulations as to what’s right and wrong
I’m looking for one major lick I been plotting on running up on papi get in and out with everything he has then leaving town I’m gone.
Where I’m from people barely live to see 25 I’m pushing 30 with nothing going after this lick I’ll be 15 again and can’t feel more alive.
All I have to do is make it.
old willow Feb 5
Sitting at my desk, is a cup of coffee.
A sip to burn my tongue,
I feel at ease with warmth.
No longer do I ponder of truth
nor hearing any owl hoot,
the street that is an isle
is now not so wild.
Claire Jan 28
Pit-a-pat, pit-a-pat went the rain on the panes.
And the oh so grey sky was just trails of countless planes.
And those planes brought people past cities, past tiny lanes,
people happier than those on my street.

On the red postbox, was the peeling paint.
And the numbers on the doors were never straight.
And on many houses was a rusty gate,
that's a reality on my street.

Cats prowled the street like lions, a sweet thing I guess,
But even sweet things end in sorrow and distress:
A bird with no guts, a dead kitten, nothing less:
even good things end sadly on my street.

A pile of *******, all mouldy and rank,
An Amazon bill, one side tea-stained, one side blank,
An old can, crumpled, pierced, already drunk,
that's what it looks like on my street.
Mark Wanless Dec 2020
turkey's walk the street
humans say beep politely
life in the slow lane
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