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Bar Steward Town 8
Do you satisfy your wife?
Let me do that to her

Things like that happen here
Nobody thought odd of it

Not even to the ****** couple bonking
In the school yard after hours

All the town's folk were this way
Thirsty and drinkers all the time

It was sort of local pride
Just like nailing a hole

Lots of ***** warm beer
And skanky holes

That type of town
Awesome people
CC 191 2020
Thomas W Case Apr 11
Where is everyone?
I look, and see the quiet little bell
with nothing under it.
hp is a ghost town...
Where is everyone?
Nova Mar 29
I don’t have a place I would call my hometown
My family was restless, always moving around.
In general I wouldn’t say it’s at all bad
But sometimes alone, I think it’s kind of sad.
Norbert Tasev Mar 21
Homes like bombed, stateless beetle nests, clouds of cotton candy, - The ****** twilight's callous, cautionary voice would have to go home: The Dark is threatening, the secret whisperer! There's still room to get home - at least for now! The landscape alone, guarded, protected, and standing - with unshakable will, raised in armor like a glorious relic, is robbed of its natural plunder.

An unknown, alien face to you is still on the panel island - tiled carpet, and as a special piece of art in ladies ears I was able to freely congratulate the wishes of my congratulations, beautiful acts! Now it was just the gassed, grizzly destruction: outside, there were unpopulated pampa grasses, alfalfa waiting for long-lasting mowing. The passion for the day's knife has faded! "Man has always been a mini-Taigatos, like a lonely one-man."

the struggle for existence had been diligently exercising her birth-fragile capillaries. An exploratory curiosity about the captivity of longing, comforting mother's lap. - Only the priceless evocation of memories remains with me: the seductive scent of flirtations, the bombshell gaze's silent and blazing body, the cry of lips, tongues

the extinction of a glowing bully in the atomic bomb moments of passions! - You can only keep it as a mini-tyrant in your all-knowing and storeroom consciousness, with a sufficiently arbitrarily captive past; This is your home, your untouchable, earthly paradise! - Great

the blazing cauldrons of injustice will boil over you if you hold your head up to the point of innocence quickly: You don't have a heavenly smile with your loyalty, keeping morals - your dreams can only be hanging on,

stubborn, self-reassuring Prometheusian renewal, - smiling faces around you; a set of towering viper nests - your being is constantly twisting. And only your heart can beat! Perhaps pointless and increasingly futile? Suicide's lighthearted, hotheaded and irresponsible intention to bring even to life a deadly plague for their incomprehensible death
maria Mar 13
it's killing me
and out
makes me

in the town
me & you
in the house
Stay in but stay calm.;)

written on March 14, 2020
Dark Poet Mar 11
The rain falls on the other side of the fence
More than you could possibly know
Flooding the attic
Rather than the basement below
The rain continues to poor
As you look on pretending not to know
As the wind picks up
And send the rain, and the person causing it
Running away
The rain falls on her pillow
With the curt words you said
Terms sharper than any blade
That scraped across her mind

I watch as your relationship festers
And grows old
When the wounds in her mind
Begin to rot
She starts changing herself
Into something she is not
The rain has bent her will to live
Marking her as someone you know
Leaving behind the trails
Making something that will show

Scars on her wrist
From your blunt words
Telling her how worthless she is
And how much she should let it end
I don't think that she could be helped
But she deserves your time
I wish you had known her
Before you called her yours
Rain continues to fall on our little town
Flooding the attics of innocents
That are completely unknowing
As you make your way around
Talking to strangers that you've found
A Mar 8
I have thought hundreds of poems about you and you have sprayed my name across a town
We have talked throughout the nights and dreamt the days away
And my heart has melted every time you're eyes lit up when you said my name

I have missed you so much that it hurts
Wished me away to that **** small town you're trapped within, the one that you longed to get out of, that you clung away from until you no longer existed

And I hate what it did to you

How it got you to color everything black and white,
Got you to stare throughout the nights and sleep the days away
Until your eyes no longer shined of wild dreams and hope
Until you no longer said my name

And if I had been brave enough, if you had let me, I would have taken you away from there,
I would have saved us,
before you became that stranger

And now you will always be the one who could have been but never will be
fray narte Mar 7
My heart is a shrivel of miagos bushes,
uprooted, shoved, chucked in new soil;
the leaves between my lips,
now, in an unhealthy shade of chartreuse.

Regardless, I have taught myself
to shear them into tiny leaf crumbs,
making trails —
marking the houses, the buildings,
the roads of this foreign city,
safekeeping directions
into a catalog of things that aren't home.

My feet are weary and somehow,
they manage to find their way
back in this cold, oppressive room.
And yet, how does one sleep under the glare of these walls?
How does one revive a dying garden
in a city that only knows
the language of tires as they kiss the pavements,
in a city that only knows
the walis tingting's weary sweeping
of these crumbs of miagos leaves —
the ones leading back home?


I can teach my tongue and all its browning, dying leaves
to remember these new ways of growth,
these new words, new schedules,
new routes, new streets.

Alas, even the waters, even the sun
can't teach it to love the language it doesn't speak.
Along the bustling roads
And throughout town
I wander alone on the streets
Like a ghost among crowds

All around I see friends,
grouped together like families
Oh, right, I almost forgot
It’s nearly christmas eve

Look around, all the happy faces
Cheerful, excited, hopeful
Things without meaning
At least to me

They walk and talk
Run and hide and laugh
Blissfully unaware of the
Monochrome sky

Twilight, now
The road empty, the town quiet
I walk along the streets
Among the lost spirits and lonely shadows
Dream Fisher Feb 3
Lately, my body has felt like a ghost town,
People use to intersect in my lanes,
Nobody has been coming around
And nothing is being maintained.

The old saloon is only making noise
From a ghost piano they left employed,
Destroyed are the shops and homes,
The streets bleed cracks and potholes
Where they say if you put your ear to the ground
You can hear someone around the world
Whispering a gentle "hello".

As the sun bleeds through at high noon,
Two old cowboys appear in standoff
Inside me, they tell eachother count to three.
Softly they count but both react at two,
The first puts a gun to his temple to squeeze,
The other puts a knife to his wrist to bleed.
Both have a clear intention to destroy,
Ignored in this heat, no one makes a sound
Stuck in standstill in this bodied ghost town.
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