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Crimsyy Aug 2016
A car, a person, a dirt street, the beach.
A loading journey,
Simple, unmeant goodbye.
Not sad to go away,
Relieved to not stay.
Need more space,
Need more space,
Some time away from reality,
Utopia, I'm a fool for you,
and I'm no match for
this mangled world.
Peter Kiggin Aug 2016
The Brave

The bunch of flowers lay on the grave
The words inscribed their We can only save
The working policeman always the brave

The man was only 24 so young to die but he believed in a noble cause
All the people lined the streets and how many times must our children brake the laws
Three teenagers stabbed him with knives like swords but they weren't knights they were cowards whose lives and up bringing meant they blamed society who shut their doors
Who can save them from themselves only pawns on a chess board made in hell to show the future only blood now pours
The biggest tragedy of all concerned will wake up next morning while the dead in their coffin turned and the wars will go on till the thugs are in jail cells and children take account till the last black crow caws.
comprehending
kias nara Jul 2016
10:10 pm
The first time I saw you
You look so exquisite standing there
I never thought a pair of eyes is not enough
to catch a glimpse of your beauty

I want to hug you with my eyes before your shadow slips away
Just a little bit
Only for a second
Is it possible to see you again in another time ?
Because I would like to remember you


-kir
It was a hot summer night
Nearly ninety, I'd say
When out back of Giovannis
The Bluesman sat down to play

He pulled up his crate
Took a sip from his flask
"This here's my med-cin"
"In case someone happens to ask"

He started a story
That we'd never heard
We're the folks of the street
And we followed each word

It's a tale of James Withers
A man in need of a hand
But to us on the street
He was the Sand Castle Man

The bluesman strummed gently
He didn't want the words to be lost
For this was a story
That had a hell of a cost

You see, James the sand man
Lost a life to the sea
His grandson, young James
Drowned when he was just three

Each day James went down
With his grandson in tow
They'd make castles together
Some fast and some slow

One day the pair
Were  at the end of the pier
When a rogue wave hit hard
And took what James held most dear

His grandson...swept out
Lost at sea, never found
They searched for three weeks
But the poor boy was drowned

James kept a vigil
Every day on the beach
He'd look out on the water
His heart out of reach

He kept making sand castles
As he did with young James
With shells and old driftwood
And he gave them all names

He'd have non-existent armies
Fight non existent wars
In his hard packed sand castles
He carved windows and doors

There was make believe dragons
In pools by the sea
Guarding make believe princesses
Who no one could see

There were turrets and moats
And each day he'd build one
To be lost to the tide
As the days work was done

Each day a new castle
Each day a new war
But, nobody knew
What he was building them for

The tide would come in
And would sweep it away
All that hard work
Gone at the end of the day

But, each morning he'd come
Build one more for the tide
With invisible armies
To flow away for a ride

People would watch him
Make the castles of sand
With imaginary soldiers
In imaginary lands

The bluesman sang soft
Took a sip once again
From the flask on his hip
It's just medi-cin

The crowd didn't stir
We were like moths to the flame
As we heard the bluesman
finish his tale about James

I asked him one morning
If he ever would end
Building castles of sand
He said, Bluesman, my friend

I know that each castle
Will be washed out to see
And I hope that my grandson
Gets a message from me

I make each sand castle
Like we both used to do
I come back every day
And start another anew

It helps with the closure
I send my soul to the sea
And I hope that my grandson
Knows they're for him made by me

He finished and thanked us
And we went on our way
All of us changed some
From what the bluesman did play

Next time I'm out wandering
And see the castles of sand
I'll know what he's building
Now...that I understand
depressed, repressed!!
its 22 degrees and I dont feel blessed
Cold as ice brought to my chest
walking down the middle the street in a daze
walking down the middle of the street hoping for a way
a way out of this mess thats nearly worse as the grave

cold and lonely
No one knows me they only want to own me
or get something from me
drugs, my body, my money, whatever they can bleed
but you do meet allies in the street
And those are the friends you’re glad to meet

Im cold , Im hungry, get me off of the street
Its crazy we still have this in 2016
Im depressed, Im a mess and all I hear is its your own fault
So why should anyone help you, yeah compassion is dead
Every now and then youll meet an angel with no judgement
Who will help you get up and out of the hell you spent

and hell it is
the faces are strangers
none friendly too much most danger
wacth your back and your backpack
watch it or you may never come back
Come back to dull reality where most be

You cant trust many out here
You cant trust any at first
Trust must be verified
still on the street you sleep with one eye
one eye on your money, one on your friend
desperate times create desperate measures, watch him

Im cold , Im hungry, get me off of the street
Its crazy we still have this in 2016
Im depressed, Im a mess and all I hear is its your own fault
So why should anyone help you, yeah compassion is dead
Every now and then youll meet an angel with no judgement
Who will help you get up and out of the hell you spent
Leigh Marie Jun 2016
The first time he kissed me, my friends assured me that I was just another body
I dutifully disagreed- "I am special"
The second time he kissed me, I learned pretty fast that my friends were right
I need not be
I am not special I am just
A woman

When a stranger wrapped his scarf around my chest,
His foreign accent fondling me with the words explaining that
he would be jealous to see other men looking at me I smiled
politely and waited to be dug out by my friends nearby because
I am not special I am just
The body of a woman

Hearing a whistle blown towards my general direction I bow my head, ignore all of the "hey baby"sand "que linda"s
Shrinking into myself I hope to disappear from the street because
I am not special I am just
The body of a woman

Walking the city alone, I make sure to act as if nobody is there hoping with futility
That maybe if they can not be seen then I will not be seen either
Although I do not need to try so hard to become invisible because
I am not special I am just
The body of a woman

Waiting to hear from you and allowing myself to be passive with our fate I rehearse that I am just another kiss, another body for you to call home because
I am not special I am just
The body of woman

These days I do not measure my worth in pounds on the scale because
That number is far too large- far too significant
Instead I look to the tags inside my pants because they represent how much space I do not take up

Exploring the streets I am constantly checking how many shadows are following behind me
What turns they're taking and how far behind they are
My escape routes are already planned for the inevitable because
no matter how significant I truly am, that is always compensated for through the insignificance of my body no-
Our bodies, women
We are miraculous, glory filled temples
It is not our fault that no matter how much fabric we try to hide behind we are always ****** beings that
Our accomplishments are that much more revered because we had to overcome our womanhood first that
Woman is a necessary adjective to frame titles or context because
Without it one will assume a man is being spoken of
Each day is a cause for celebration because each sunset marks another day of survival but the morning sunrise alerts us for another day at war
The kind that picks you up and drops you off in a different state of mind

The kind that leaves you lost in the right direction
it has unexpectedly taken

A kiss so purposeful and sound
Even the force of the wind nor the stares of passersby can break it

The kind of kiss the brain is stubborn to erase
because with every eighth minute
the present veers off its natural course
to travel back to that enchanting space

Back to him and me
planted in front of The Liberty Tree
Back to the heated discussion between lips
and to everything felt and poured out in our kiss

To hello and goodbye

To stoked intensity

And to the eloquent expression of elusive chemistry

2016 ©
Inspired by a first and last date.
Twenty two years had passed  by

She blinked, and a lifetime had passed

She started this job as a lark

She never thought it would last

Two husbands and rehab were part of this bar

The husbands...her clients all knew

But the rehab, was hers...and hers all alone

Only one in her family knew

She'd been tending bar here for 3 presidents plus

Two popes, two husbands....one queen

There were things in this bar that were secreted away

There were things just not meant to be seen

Say, 4 fights a week for 22 years

That's four thousand six hundred fights

That's more violent acts than one person should see

That's  a lot of just mind numbing sights

As a tender of bar, she was part doctor as well

Serving drinks, and giving advice

She was hit on as well, and most she turned down

But some, they succeeded....some twice

They would come with their problems

spill their guts to this girl

Who they'd probably just met that night

They would tell her their problems and drink a few ales

When they  left, they would be feeling all right

But, Mary...poor Mary would harbour their pain

She'd help them, but could not let things go

They'd cheer up with her talking and 1 or 2 beers

But she hurt, and would leave feeling low

There was always a someone on the tales other end

Who was home, maybe beaten or mad

But, Mary....she talked to the one who'd come out

And she always left feeling quite sad

The stories they told her, she never asked them to tell

But they came and they opened on up

And she as their hostess just listened and served

Whle they sat there, getting full in their cups

She married two men that she met in the bar

Both left wives, and poor Mary was blind

They both charmed this girl, till she was way too far gone

And she learned that love..yes, was blind

She had a young niece, that her sister had left

She was going to school here in town

If there was one person alive who could bring Mary up

Her niece Amber was the proverbial clown

After marrying twice and divorcing just once

Mary vowed not to do it again

But, she was hit on each night

in this bar Down the lane,

by a considerable number of men

Her first husband...a lout, for better want of a term

Was a drunkard, and jealous most days

But she fell for him hard, for his sad tale of woe

And her marriage lasted 91 days

He would come in each night after finishing work

And would berate her for flirting for tips

After leaving the bar, he would beat her at home

Hitting low, just above Mary's hips

Her boss saw her marks whens she was filling the fridge

He kept quiet, but he told her to call

A friend that he had, who would help Mary out

He knew her marks were not from a fall

Before Mary phoned she had incredible news

Her husband had been in a crash

Her problems were over and her bruises would heal

And it all happened ...****...in a flash

During this time her sister ran off

Leaving Amber for Mary to raise

Though she hated her sister for leaving

Dear Amber she loved, and she helped Mary get through the days

But eight years along, with no outlet in sight

Hearing tales and of other folks pain

Mary reached out and she found comfort in

A needle and a rock of *******

for three years she spiked, shooting up every day

spending money she stole from the till

And during this time, she got married again

He seduced her when she had no self will

He knew of her problem and joined in all the same

Just a leech come along for the ride

He would help keep her secret, never telling her boss

Never letting them know she was fried.

Poor Amber found out, she walked in one June day

there was Mary with her coke and her spoon

When she looked at young Amber, she knew she must quit

And she knew that she must do it soon

Pure heartbreak she saw in that little girls eyes

She could see how she thought she would lose

Her Aunt like her mother, gone from her life

Mary knew she would now have to choose

Rehab was chosen, and her husband he left

He found out that this train had now stopped

his free ride was over, his meal ticket gone

You could say that his bubble had popped

Two years clean celebrated, at the bar with the kid

Mary got some good news from her boss

He was retiring to Texas and was selling the bar

And he would sell it to her at a loss

She was now the proud owner of a bar all her own

Three doors down from Giannis on Hope

She would run it precisely, the way she'd been taught

She would run the bar clean, free from dope

She would meet some great people,

Some nights in for a drink

And others that she wished would just leave

She would listen to stories, some good some not quite so much

And others just to  hard to believe

She would make friends with some people  And others she'd ban,

making sure that they left with a start

She'd befriend Harry Cooper, the World War two vet

Who would imprint his soul on her heart

And Amber...yes Amber would come down to spend time

She was fine and was going to school

She was a classical ****** in the dark of her room

And I tell you this girl was just cool

Mary brought Amber up with morals and faith

She would come when her Aunt made the call

She would rather hang out at the bar every night

Than to go with her friends to the mall

Mary made peace with the demons she had

She could leave the folks tales and go home

But, now she had Amber and a reason to live

And she would not have to do it alone

the bar's past Giannias, three doors  down to the right

It's not large but she makes  it make do

There's some music out back from a bluesman as well

Come on down and be one of the few

Be a regular there, join up with the crowd

It's not big but the beer's always cold

You don't have to stay long, but you'll come back again

For it's special....or so I've been told

Tell Mary I sent you, you'll get a free drink

And a free ear to hear of your tale

But, leave your ciggies outside for you can't smoke in here

You can do it outside by the pail.
M Padin May 2016
At 27, I catch glimpses
of my reflection, the edges blurred.
What I thought was an identify
is really a funerary pall.
You sought Mercy Street
on Beacon Hill.
I walked the star-lit night
until I stumbled against a street sign
which read: “Dead End.
(c) 2016. All rights reserved.
Poetictunes May 2016
Black men were stripped of their power and might.
Surviving in the streets
taught them how to strive and fight.
I turn the TV on, not a black man in sight.
Unless he dribble or he fiddle  mics.
Every black boy wants to grow up and be like Nas or Mike.
Blacks are not televised unless they are brocasted to fight.
I ride through the city's bright night lights, thinking one day how ɰє mıɢһţ live better.
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