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As I lie down on my bed I saw you pushing the half-closed door and entering
You wore a red saree
You are as gorgeous as ever
Sacred like a temple in the dawn
Like a woman who has bathed in night dew
Someone who knows everything about me and yet come to know me from the very beginning
The old door swings in the air
I can see your face as calm as neat as clean
Like the moon outside shining
Let it be cliche, but today it is truly a full moon night
I cannot say what I wanted to say you
Everything has been dusted in time
How do you find the old address of an expatriate?
The yellow envelopes and the red-inked words must have turned blue now
Once I sent within them the clouds
Which kissed you as rain
You in red saree stare at me
Ah! Is it really you?
Or it is all a surreal magic of hallucination
But at that moment you sat beside me on the bed and kissed me deeply
And whisper in my ear
Like a fairy tale told thousand nights ago,
"You still smell the same? And me?"
The last tram of the night goes through
On the empty tracks now lay, love.
Bhill Apr 2020
the severity of the broken minds lays out in the street
in the streets covered in outrageous and unfair drama
drama drawn from within
within the information floating about in the heads of the media
off with their heads is the call from the watchers
off with their heads

Brian Hill - 2020 # 112
Well, do you understand?
I asked about a man named Wealth
Who lives nearby - just up the street
I asked his nearest neighbors
About Wealth, and when I could meet

The neighbor on the left replied
That Wealth was not a friendly guy
And since this was the certain case
To help us meet - he wouldn’t try

And then the neighbor on the right
Said “Wealth’s a super friendly man”
“Easy to talk to - fun to see”
Could we meet?  “We surely can”

Both neighbors quick to answer
But with such different views
It left me puzzled right at first
But soon I knew which view I’d use

So Wealth and I remain good friends
I’m happy that I know him well
Get to know this man called Wealth
Enjoy his home and with him dwell
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This poem was not the easiest to write.  I really did inquire of a person who lives near me, and I received different views from both of his nearest neighbors.  So I started out telling about that experience, and then linking to prosperity.  Then I decided it worked much better to have the man actually be a man named wealth.  Are you friends with Wealth?
Sunday morning silence
Like the eye inside a storm
The street was empty, vacant
This would be the brand new norm

The windows all were shuttered
The doors were closed up tight
No one in Cy's doorway
To recover from the night

The church doors were both open
A note pinned to the door
The back, open to the alley
The note, "pray" and nothing more

Giannis, door was locked up
Joe was sleeping in the back
A note said "order through the window"
The window, open just a crack

The bar was also locked tight
A note said "coffee, but no beer"
"yell through the broken window"
"Don't worry we will hear"

Broken Spines had in the window
A large note for all to see
The note said "Cooking up some chili"
"Come back here around three"

Cy came in the back way
Taped his note up on the door
"Don't worry about paying"
"Call if you need more"

The street was still in motion
It had life, but none to see
Today, and for a while
The street folk lived for free

The city closed the main roads
The street, forgotten to most folk
The old man, sat on the curbside
Looking up, he lit a smoke

People ordered up their coffee
Got themselves a bite to eat
Stood in line outside, all waiting
Social distance...now six feet

Most folks on the street now
Lived above their stores or near
The street was still in action
Strong and silent, cloaked in fear

While life was now adapting
A sound, blew by upon the air
The Bluesman, oh so gentle
Was singing, but, from where?

The alley by Gianni's
Was empty, not a sound
But, still there heard the music
With the singer not around

The music, it got louder
The wind brought it to the street
The stores opened windows,
To hear the Bluesman's vocal treat

It took some time to figure
Where the music was relayed
He was on Gianni's rooftop
He just sat up there and played

A special Sunday concert
With stops for "medicin" now and then
Brought the street folks altogether
They were one now, once again

The Bluesman sang The Beatles
He sang U2, he sang the Band
He sang all the Guthries
He sang about the land

He sang of inspiration
Of not being all alone
How we were in this together
His message simple, inspired tone

He sang songs that got you dancing
In the stores, that's what they did
All alone, but, with the Bluesman
Dancing like a little kid

Some sang, but no one heard them
They sang loud and didn't care
They were exactly like the Bluesman
Singing proudly to the air

He sang for near an hour
Folks below yelled up their praise
The Bluesman brought The street together
In the most beautiful of ways

He finished up by singing
Two songs that made this right
He sang "Imagine" by John Lennon
Then he gave them "Silent Night"

He made his way down slowly
He was older than he was
He did this for his people
He did this just because

People started singing
You could hear it all around
But, the Bluesman grabbed some chili
Found his tent, and hunkered down

Inspired, I would say so
That is just life on the street
A group of flawed, broke people
You'd be lucky should you meet

A family, but not really
They were one, but, many too
No one here is really special
They are all like me....and you.
Nicholas Feb 2020
My hearts been on the fritz,
It’s been bleeding from all the slits
from taking one too many hits.
this must be as good as it gets
when you lie in your own ****,
this life isn’t one I’ll miss.

You know I never got that kiss
I’ve lived one big swing and a miss
cause I never learned how to mix
that well with others,
just ask my brothers
I fit in with the suckers
living life in the gutters.

Here there aren’t many colors
and even fewer lovers.
Max Neumann Feb 2020
don't think you could
beat the street without
me

it's madov's bossy laughter
and his vossy
attitude

i don't know if
you know what i mean:
solitude

but that's fine my brother
but that's fine my sister

without writing
everything is fist fighting
without fist fighting
everything is writing

i need me a

new language
new lady
thousand babies

and i'll found a tribe
you never heard of it'll
be called

tizzop
Poetic T Feb 2020
You were coming at me like you
                               got crew.
But you all boys, not men you
              pretend to be.

More like a baby sitting club,
         sitting watching Sesame Street.



Well I got crew,

and guess what,
             there counting down


on you and your
                                                               boys.


One dead, two dead, three and four,
    you still bad mouthing us... guess what
                        we got more finger to count more.

5,6,7,8 more crew sleeping in the morgue..

Guess what you ain't got no crew no more.

You the big yellow bird squawking like you got
     room in your cage, but my boys caught you.

Now we plucked that attitude from your feathers,
                  I don't hear disrespect  just tears that fall.

I'm the cookie monster and I'm all street,
                     I'll eat up your neighbourhood
and you you'll be selling crumb's on the
corner for me.


         I'm the monster that your mum
said would be scaring you.
else Dec 2019
Coloured splatters on the frosty panes
Claps of thunder calling out my name
Quiet drifts on the rainy lanes
Muted by the rain that came

Waterfalls on the clear-cleansed window
The honks and lights: Red, green and yellow
Paint the raindrops and cast a shadow
An empty shell, a heart so hollow

Can’t they leave me here in the rain?
Just go away and board the train.
Why do they look at me as if I’m insane?
Can't they understand?

Leave, leave,​ leave me.​
JIHEE Dec 2019
I've walked down this road for so many years
Sitting on a bench wiping away my tears
No one was there, I was all alone
Tearing at the seams of the relationships I'd sewn
And like an ocean I rage destroying everything in my way
A never-ending storm that may or may not end one day
I know I'm broken, that I might not recover
What's the point anyways just replace me with another
I'm just a little lost, only a little bit broken
Taking back every single word I've ever spoken
Seeking shelter from myself, I just want it all to end
Mixed signals, lost connection, seems like my message won't send
Don't tell me I'm crazy because I already know
My feet are blistered, I see blood staining the snow
Now I'm bathed in the colour that once drove me insane
Losing pieces of myself, My sanity getting harder to maintain
I'm wandering looking for something to hold at least for a bit
Tired from the trek I just need a place to sit
All I see is broken windows and shattered glass
Stepping on the shards as I pass
There's an old woman calling me to her
Our conversation short as my vision begin to blur
She told me I'm doomed that soon I will be dead
She talks as though it's sad but does know the thoughts in my head
I see the light growing nearer my journey may just end
I'm seeing things, things I can't comprehend
I see the world around me dim as darkness consumes me
I guess this is the end I can not hide nor flee
Now I'm free I can move on
I'm shedding all the masks I've tried on
the dope
is crank
on the
scene as
rancidity with
duff so
heck with
the caffeine
it feels
like coke
now in
her variety
of crack
this speedball
mustn't hurt
the law
in doubt
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