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Saanvi 5d
This town holds secrets
Don't you know?
Between the houses and their lawns,
Between the market square and suburbs,
Between the forest and the parks.
A mystery lingers
Like unsettling fog
Suffocating, deadly, murderous.
The longing silence
That draws exhales from townsfolk.
The rolling winter
That fills their hearts with dread.
For the creatures of the mountains
Come down to the haunted town
Drawing blood on sidewalks
To satisfy their frozen hunger.
The people tape their windows
And blind themselves with scissors
For they cannot bear to see the horrors.
Each season, a part of town shrinks away
Like termites eating entire wood slowly
Devouring the taste.
Soon, it will become a ruin
Uninhabited, lost in time, lonely.
What once was the American dream
Now an urban flower in a devastating jungle.
A leftover, remnant of something great, eaten away by greed,
destroyed by self hatred.
Inspired by Stephen King's novel IT and the town Derry.....
Today I met a jet boat named Desire
Killing time on the docks, crimson like cherry wine
It's been telling me of the corrupted youth

That nothing has ever been the same
Since they tore down the funfair park
Where we made a pilgrimage each night
To bury our most desperate loves

Now we all have a lover waiting at the bar
They steal kisses from strangers for fun
But Desire says he's been dismissive lately
Of sand devils and kindred spirits
Says there is no illness as stubborn
as the pursuit of company
lionness Apr 12
sometimes i wonder when i cry, does god listen
but maybe i should quit crying
go back to rutland, where we all suffer
where we all ache bullet wounds
named after our mother
where we all love snow and
it often rains
so when the sun does come
it's a subtle pain
warmth unfamiliar
unaccustomed to change,
unprotected from the elements,
we are all one in the same-
the sisters and brothers
from the other side of the tracks
who got unlucky and missed the train.

sometimes i think god just went blind
or maybe he forgot our names
but at least we take cover in
the trauma of one another,
our broken bones
and broken veins

sometimes i wonder when we cry, does god listen
if we can ever heal in the arms of each other
if we shattered the sky could we
stop the rain
JA Perkins Oct 2023
Cold winds rustle through
the Sleepy Town oaks
The whirling whispers
louder than the
Sleepy Town blokes
Candles in the windows -
the Sleepy Town hoax
for the town is long deserted
by the Sleepy Town folks
The echo of former laughter
from the Sleepy Town jokes
The Autumn fog appears as if
The Sleepy Town smokes
Rain recalls the memory,
as the Sleepy Town soaks,
of livelihood long forgotten
by those Sleepy Town folks..
Autumn
From the ashes Sep 2023
If you get the chance, check out Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems by Thomas W. Case.  It's available on all formats on Amazon
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CJLR274H#detailBullets_feature_div
Thomas W Case Sep 2023
Hey everyone.  It has been quite a journey here.  I have come to think of you as family.  I love you all.  I am happy to announce that my book, Seedy Town Blues, Collected Poems is available on Amazon, All formats available. Thank you all.  If the link doesn't work, just search the title on Amazon.  If you do purchase the book, would you mind leaving a review?  All of you are great.
https://www.amazon.com/stores/Thomas-W.-Case/author/B0CL2RKDGX?ref=aprdr&storeref=ap_rdr&isDramIntegrated=true&shoppingPortalEnabled=true
https://a.co/d/gV5LuMr   link to my book.
Sometimes I feel I've abandoned much of myself,
I get a longing for self-expression; I just don't know
who I am, who I should be.

Among them I'm honored,
I feel we are unique and genuine.
It's long written, a kinship that bonds the group.
We passed thru the millennium together.
Reflections after Róisín's birthday.
Nigdaw Jun 2023
he tripped through the streets
towards home
still light of foot
under the LED lights
but another unsuccessful hunt
meant he'd be hungry tonight
perhaps he knew it was
the last time
familiar sounds and smells
preying on his mind
tonight he'd sleep
under the stars outside
curled up to keep warm
on a mild spring night

I found him under a conifer
still in a fetal curve
some time later
nature had taken it's course
his brush was still there
and some of a thick red coat
but the putrid smell told me
he had chosen my garden
to take his last breath
and I was honoured
to give him the burial
he deserved
Robert Ronnow Jan 2023
I’m busy as a bus.
Ten hours on the telephone, research resources,
school staff, counsel clients.
Some sleep.
Then invite Lorraine downtown, the lovely loyal
secretary, to hear jammin jazz crew. By taxi tonight,
sans subway.
I’ve never been to this joint before
but admire the women in their dresses and makeup.
In New York, they smell wild. Elsewhere
women are ranchers and gardeners.
We find a small table in the crowd,
order drinks. The band is four young black men.
Lorraine is black too, by the by.
We get up to dance and I leave my cowboy boots
under the table. I’ve always enjoyed
the way Lorraine puts her arms around me.
I’m the oldest cat in the club
which is frightening
since just fifteen years ago I was the youngest.
I wink at the trumpet player with my fairly abandoned mien
who comes over to our table between sets.
He likes Lorraine. They jukebox it.
She falls in love.
--title from a tune by Thelonius Monk
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