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Pax Jul 18
Here I am
Dream-Walking
of a farfetch reality
----
It
was
good
sometimes they call it - lucid dreams. I can't say I have those, because whenever i wake up, it will just be lost in though as you get back to reality. Before i tried writing it down but then i just lost it, and never caring anymore, maybe because some of it has some bad endings. It appears more frequent than the good ones. I like these dreams, its like i am living a different life, wearing someone else's body, and living a totally farbending reality. You can say some of it is futuristics and some reoccuring horror stuff like zombies, i don't know why, i stop watching those series long before, haha.. Now you've reach this point on the authors note,  and i thank you for lestining. and one last point, a dream is just a dream, never lose your touch to reality.
George Krokos Jun 28
Sit, stand up and walk straight
and don't you ever wait
or else be seen here late
for it's all now our fate
mankind's most evolved state
humanity's last gait.
____
Written in late '23.
dk Jun 21
I long for cobbled stone roads
Dim lit stone stairs climbing with ivy
Up buildings built by Romans
adorned with flowers and intricacies
Details honed by Craftsman
Delicately drafting
the landscapes we live in
Unlike the concrete utilitarian steel and glass pillars and highways
Their plight on our journeys in life
To benefit the productivity
but detriment the soul
To capitalize no matter what the cost
Leaving me longing to nap
in a park with Parisians
For fresh baked baguettes on a bench with a bottle of burgundy
For mosaics made of glass in cathedrals built centuries ago
Over billboards and neon lights,
the flashing and screaming
products for purchase
Let me get my dinner after the people have had their naps.
Let it be an occasion
not a necessity to get by
Let's walk the city after 10
while the sky is still bright
Waiting for the dim street lights
to light our way back
To another day of walking
cobble ****** streets
Malia May 12
It’s like I’m walking
Home from school,
Counting the houses
That look the same.

It’s like I’m skipping
The cracks again,
Humming the tune
Inside of my head.

It’s like my shoe laces
Keep coming undone
No matter how much
I tie them up.

I pick at the thread
Hanging off of my sweater,
Not bothering to bend down
And double-knot.

And then when I trip,
I sit
And wonder
Why.
I like the way she holds my arm when walking…

up high, under the shoulder,
firm grasp on muscle, feeling
the blood beat acoustically, in joy,
sensually sensing a thrumming
thrombosis messaging, this is a
full bodied animation, liquid life,
“strong to drink”
“strength to break
off pieces and keep,”
a supporting mutuel
pillar column post,
given, taken, entrapped,
enwrapped, ensnared,
and
enshrined, mighty fine
feeling
“indeed”
pieces to mine,
pieces of mine

her taking is acceptable
my taking reciprocal
for her needs fulfill,
I,
walk taller, straighter,
in fuller strides, and when
she stumbles in the obstacle
course of nyc crack-ed sidewalkslop,
her whoosh of breath expelled
when saved by the arm firmament,
goes unremarked, for this is my
purposed occupation and the
occlusion of our skin cells
in tight bandwidth is certification
that our love is so much more than
mere skin deep,
or as she so oft summarizes, life is,
“indeed,” or in deed.

olp
Fri Mar 22-2024
LearnfromBOBD Jul 2023
Why is your poetry naked
You couldn’t wear some words on them
What I’m thinking is not in my head
What you heard from me are unknown to me well,
Take me as i am
I’m flawed
Bake me as i am
I’m thawed
The blue is sky
Everyone lied
The truth as been wandering
No one accepted it
Keeps me wondering
Why lying is so sweet
You called me a caveman
Because i grunt while walking
You couldn’t hear me well
Then you called me a walking poet
I was a lil’ bit weird
Cos no one to cover my naked weapons
Who’s gonna wear the bullet
Everyone left unaware
Mark Wanless Jul 2023
walking the dog down familiar
   blurry roads

what do i see but i want
   there to be

created a spaceship that flew
   me to mars

followed good soldier into
   evil war

stopped all the killing
   hatred no more
Teyah Nichole May 2023
This King’s Road
My rose petal garden
As I pick myself up from my roots.
I shake and shiver,
Jitter and jive my way through
This living almanac                  of fate:
Some Velvet Morning in my cup
Of coffee,
     Some luck,
     And a mission          to create.
moon man Mar 2023
Wake up, get ready, leave, come back, sleep
Wake up, get ready, leave, come back, sleep
Like a giant loop, I follow the path.
No real goal in sight, no real plan when I stop.
It’s almost as if I’m sleepwalking, hell, I probably can sleep through most of my day and my body will still follow the path.
But one day I’ll need to look back at how long I’ve been on this trail, and all the self destruction I’ve left.
I don’t know if I have any more with me or if I’ll return to the trail. But I do know that after such a long slumber, even if it’s just for one poem, it’s good to be back.
A couple, with a couple of sticks
Walking in convoy
Wearing out disjointed joints
To distribute the pain of future loss
Weapons of choice
They carry no voice
Only the weight of their owners
Who, thanks to the sticks, will live to walk another day
Note 1: based on seeing a couple in a gapped-convoy, walking with two sticks each as we walked down to the Marina at Benalmadena... then written-up at the Marina, in rain showers. UDID 9002-1012-1.0.0
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