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Whit Howland Jul 27
Today sunny
loomed on the horizon

but the storm never happened

wind warm
touch of chill
blew gently

but the storm never happened

all day I waited
behind the eyes
a slot machine
spinning wheels
one round in the chamber

but the storm never happened

whit howland © 2019
Kathleen Apr 2013
For the record, I suppose it should be stated I lost my soul in Vegas.
I would love to go back there and find it among those glittering lights and buffet tables of never-ending artful desserts.
It's funny that all I really remember are those pretty desserts and fried mashed potatoes.
I want those things back.

I'm like a raver with those lights.
I want to consume them.
I want to glow in my pores.
Not the cliched glow that wraps itself around the impregnated many,
but the glow that comes from sitting next to neon for too long.
That it could somehow stain you.
Rub off like fairy dust on skin.
That I could fly away due to its energy or wishful thinking.

Take me back to Vegas,
where they still hand that out for free by the boatload.
I need not gamble.
I need not glad-hand.
I would simply sit idly by the buzzing of pinks and blues and greens and reds.
And me and those cheap 1920's lights will have a moment,
a moment I can share with the cocktail waitress who asks me for the third time if I'm sure I don't need a little refresher drink.
Planejane2 May 19
What happened to just being there
Not these ******* filters
Or showing off your nails and your hair
What’s wrong with being present
Talking and expressing feelings to some mother ******* that don’t care
Everybody’s in a ******* movie
Lip syncing, finger pinching
Tryna make angles that aren’t even there
You all sitting together
Snapping each other’s life
Yet no one is living theirs
Sudipta Maity Feb 23
If I say you girl
you are inside
my neuron world.
Would you belive?
Or if I send you a mail
MRI scan report attatched.
Will you read?
Belive me or not.
The sparking in
my Vegas nerve are not lying.
An afgan ****.
***** to ***
Whiskey to Wine
I had tried everything-
the doctor pescribed.
But,  it's my nercotic nerve
stop receiving all signals
It polarised at my SA and AV node
by your high sugar smile.
J Nov 2018
Stays in Vegas
Be what may..
In bed by 10
Ashamed to say!
Kathryn Rose Mar 2018
Imperfect child, imperfect man
Shouts from his father looking down with shame
Stuck in his head like demons in the flame

Giving the love he never found
Making family out of friends
Desperate for a full heart

Always searching
Never receiving
Depression looms
Trusting the demons in reality
Holding on to something he can't see
While paper crowds his home
Hoping paper will block the void he feels every day

Happiness existed
Only in the city of lights
Torturous summers, capable winters
She broke his dream

Immediate recognition does not come
Perseverance fading quickly

Screaming child inside him
Eternal college experience of brotherhood, beer, whiskey and Vegas trips
Living through the joy of children

Desperate to find a woman
A woman that won't die
A woman that won't disappear
Someone he won't disappoint
if I
saw Norah
Jones this
time while
they'd freak
out and
lost their
marbles that
never cried
again Saturday
Night when
I thought
never to
get rest
with her
I care
to date
A Norah Jones Story
Valerie Feb 2018
we are a generation of sedation,

discursive, empty, godless children,

raised in the age of social media,

where the height of our emotions

lie in our 'thoughts and prayers',

and the best we can do is a touch of a button,

a share, a like, a tweet, a reaction documented,

rumination we pretend we've borne.

is it our intrepid numbness to it all?

after all, we are best known for

the plight for attention and validation,

or rather yet our entitlement and our narcissism,

terrorism doesn't have a face unless i see it,

and it begs the millennial question,

are we just a bunched of depressed sociopaths?

or is it because we are the privileged 20%,

nestle in the fringes of developed nations,

with our precious technology and our internet,

unbeknownst to a third world, a third world

we mourn according to how it benefits us.

after all, don't forget that in an emergency,

there is always 'thoughts and prayers'.

William Marr Jan 2018
feverishly feeding oily coins
into the hungry mouths
of the slot machines

a cook from Chinatown
blinded by the splendor of the casino
has mistaken them
for the children he left behind
in the old country
where they refuse
to grow up
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