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Ansley Jul 2018
Hello everybody. My name is Neal and I'm your tour guide.
The first creature that we will see is a koala, to your right. Do you know that koala's have fingerprints very similar to those of humans?
So much so that their prints have been mistaken for a human's at crime scenes?
Anyways, this leads us to ask some very important questions: are methods of finding criminals therefore unreliable? Is it truly possible to avoid imprisoning those that are innocent? Is reality merely an allusion?
Or, more importantly, was it my boyfriend John with the good fashion sense that took my hairbrush? Or was it that little ***** Bernard that is hiding in the top left corner?
Anyways, to your left you'll see our world renowned snail tank. Snails can sleep for up to three years at a time....
Koalas actually do have similar finger prints and snails can sleep for up to three years
Post slumber
Nothing changes when I reopen my eyes
Your smile and gait
Same puzzle piece reverie coming together
Like coarse bark and smooth leaves of walnut trees
Or your articulation and my weak knees.
Even when the road ceases
Let my affection not be a sojourn of the mind
But an embraced destination, instead.


Ifeanyi N. Okoro II - © 2018
When?
Pt. 2
Terry Collett Feb 2017
We'd left Hamburg
and got back into the minivan;
Dalya beside me,
the others in their usual place.

I opened the Gulag book
by Solzhenitsyn;
it was a depressing book
but I read on.

It's about the labour camps
in Russia isn't it?
Dalya said.

Yes between
1918 and 1956,
I said.

Why read it
if it's depressing?
she said.

I want to know
the truth,
I said.

Truth about what?
she said.

What happened in Russia
during that time,
and the camps,
and why so many people
went there and died there,
I said.

The Polish woman
and her daughter
said nothing,
but looked at the book
I had in my hands.

I remembered
the woman
had said that some
of her relations
were in the area
occupied by the Russians
in the war,
and the others
in the part run
by Germans,
and both suffered
and some died
or disappeared.

I wondered what
she thought
about the book,
and if any of her relations
ended up in a camp
on either side.

I said nothing,
but read on
page after page,
with Dalya's thigh
close to mine
warm and tender.

I recalled
the other night
in her tent
making love to her.
A MAN ON HIS TOUR OF EUROPE IN 1974.
Tony Luxton Oct 2015
They swarm around their polyglot guide
trying to catch her savoured words
to match her stories with their myths
and the histories of Old England.

Here painted living statues pose
frozen til some money's paid
like mercenary seaside slot machines.

No place for the camera shy
no space for passers-by
no peace for older eyes
who seek their place in winter's light.
Grab the keys
The truck is full
Let's head out
hit the road
It's Friday
Time to party
A teenage
secret code

Tweets are out
Friends are set
It's party time
tonight
We're going
out in secret
We'll be home
Before daylight

Going on a back road ride
Deep into the night
Going on a back road ride
It will be out of sight
Going on a back road ride
Won't be back until the morn
Going on a back road ride
In the fields beyond the corn

We're teenagers
It's what we do
It's how we find
out who we are
Like our parents
did before us
We're following
Our star

We learn
about each other
We learn
Where we should go
We set a path
Into the future
With the star
From long ago

Going on a back road ride
Deep into the night
Going on a back road ride
It will be out of sight
Going on a back road ride
Won't be back until the morn
Going on a back road ride
In the fields beyond the corn
Skylar May 2015
Yank myself out of bed
Peel the film of sleep from 'round my head
It's 4:00 AM
And all the world is dead.

It's 4:00 AM and all the world is dead.
From the streets every man has fled.
But in hours it again shall be
Brimming with potential; energy set free.

I assemble my appearance.
Staring into the mirror,
I say to myself: "One last time.
"One final tour."

The door is open, before it I stand
To face morning's faint chill
Surrounded by paling blue.
There! The first bird's trill.

The air is sweet
And free of smog.
The faintest fog
Is draped on the trees.

The empty street beckons
And freely I obey.
I have things I need to do
Before the commencement of the day.

I pass the playground on the corner,
Where I wasted time as a child.
Where many a battle was fought
And we had adventures in the wild.

Past the playground and to my left
There is the river bank
Where I went fishing with my father
And my friends and I made our mothers mad:

Where we lit our little fires
And we had our first drinks.
Where we shared our first joint
And came to talk and think.

Our school is down the way.
We all can safely say
It's the place where we first learned
Classes and books have less to say than the real world.
  
    We became:
        Artists.
        Athletes.
        Academics.

    Our achievements
        Are scrawled upon
            The stone walls
                That lined that same river.

A little further on,
And there's the little store
Where I kissed my first fleeting love
Just outside the door.

I keep walking, I keep walking,
Until I reach the shore.
I put my back against a rock
And rest on that sandy floor.

The life that I'll soon be leaving
Lies behind me asleep
While I watch the sun lazily rise
Over the mysterious, unexplored deep.

I built myself in this town
And it built me as well.
But I cannot stay much longer:
In a few hours I will bid it farewell.

Will I ever make it back?
Will I ever return
To trace the scrawlings by the riverbank
With bare fingers full of nostalgia?

Nothing at all is sure.
Therefore I must take this last chance
To make my final tour.
Captain Trips May 2014
Flights fly forward fast, for faith falls flat.
flight anxiety solved by the letter F
Klara Apr 2014
When i think back to the day I met you, my heart explodes.
I am both the happiest person in the world, because I hugged you, and the saddest because it's been so long.
In class, I can't focus because the memory of your smile keeps coming back to me.
In my head, it never gets quiet anymore because my mind keeps replaying the sound of your chuckle, and those words I've been longing to hear.
No hug will ever feel
as warm
and safe
and happy anymore,
because no one's arms fit me like yours.
You are constantly on repeat in my mind;
your laugh, your smile, your words, your arms, your smell...

I miss you so much, my heart cannot take it anymore.
And I cannot help but wonder,
how you can be the worst thing that's ever happened to my heart when you're the best that's ever happened to me.
Silver Lining Apr 2014
A buzzing in the air
excitment
We're finally leaving
lets go already
Just another hour..
We've been waiting all year
All the saving finally paying off
It's here. It's here.
So tune up those strings.
*We're here to play
After workin all year, doing countless fundraisers, it's finally here. Orchestra tour. Here I come California.

— The End —