#fairview - Hello Poetry

Bring out a couple clue within their double clue : 1) there was this existing ^height that attracts the rising of unwavering sound of a slow movement, 2) meanwhile,those impending rapid motion will all gathered by only one force then it will be spreading in to stable downfall !!!

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Nov 4, 2020

Nov 4, 2020 at 10:47 PM UTC

TanglawatPanglaw

°=foam°_°poem=° TM

Bring out a couple clue within their double clue : 1) there was this existing ^height that attracts the rising of unwavering sound of a slow movement, 2) meanwhile,those impending rapid motion will all gathered by only one force then it will be spreading in to stable downfall !!!

5

Crowded bar Drink held in hand Music blaring loud Pretty sure my soul is ****** After the second round Shot of whiskey down throat One more to follow Sea of ***** keeping afloat Weightless with each swallow Dizzy head Thick and light Clouded Pulsing And hazy Tiredness drags down my sight Legs relaxed and lazy Warmth spreads throughout torso Fingertips begin to tingle Euphoria inside my brain grows My neurons and serotonin mingle Air heavy Sweat and motion Humid heat clinging to my skin Around me is a blurred commotion Logic and sense wearing thin Tummy performing cartwheels Whole place unbalanced and dark Stool wobbly underneath my heels Bartender pouring from a fifth of Monarch Saturday night in a tiny town Where everything else is just too far So you find yourself driving the same road down To the local nothing-better-to-do bar

0

Feb 24, 2020

Feb 24, 2020 at 8:12 PM UTC

AmandaKayBurke

Alaskaholics

Crowded bar Drink held in hand Music blaring loud Pretty sure my soul is ****** After the second round Shot of whiskey down throat One more to follow Sea of ***** keeping afloat Weightless with each swallow Dizzy head Thick and light Clouded Pulsing And hazy Tiredness drags down my sight Legs relaxed and lazy Warmth spreads throughout torso Fingertips begin to tingle Euphoria inside my brain grows My neurons and serotonin mingle Air heavy Sweat and motion Humid heat clinging to my skin Around me is a blurred commotion Logic and sense wearing thin Tummy performing cartwheels Whole place unbalanced and dark Stool wobbly underneath my heels Bartender pouring from a fifth of Monarch Saturday night in a tiny town Where everything else is just too far So you find yourself driving the same road down To the local nothing-better-to-do bar

33

By this time of the year (In days of old and times past) we would already be skipping off onto deer trails-------- ^^^^^^^^^^in the woods of Fairview park.^^^^^^^^^^ - at the bottom of Stevens Creek runs through those steep hills. - We will dip our toes in the slow, murky water (James came to town) as the thick, sweet smell of my burning cigarillo (and the whiskey fell into our glasses.) lingers on the water's surface. (It was a race to see who would pass out last) It is here that we are young; No moss clinging. (and be the one to see him off at dawn.) - That old shit-colored truck with the key broken off in the ignition will take life with every well-used car I'm in. "The Brown Trout". Marcus called from the 24-hour gas station on Eldorado to tell you he broke the key in the ignition and couldn't seem to get the ****** truck started. We gave comedy its due. What could we have done at that point but stumble into the blue? I recall forty girls & boys crammed into an efficiency apartment that night as the bathroom vent sapped the room of smoke, liquor stench and Nag Champa incense, while the dense fog of budding lust hung in stasis over our heads. Boys on the exit living out their tree house fantasies; drinking away boredom and skateboard injuries. - Phantoms of the apartment buildings (Do you remember Dipper Lane?) at the end of West Main tell tales of past tenants. (I seem to have forgotten your name again.) What does it feel like (Did you hear something?) to be a home away from home? (I've been alone this whole time.) - It's four years later and the bikini tree has tan lines, they cut down the big black walnut at my old house, and built my ark from its wood. Supple leaves line the Sylvan Queen's Kermes colored hair as we sail for higher ground. Now the stinging sunlight cuts through the cracks in the wood. - I'm examining the border of a much larger picture. Even now, the resolution grows fuzzy. You are a leaf on the five-hundredth page of my dictionary. Ginko. I placed you there on a particularly sunny day in July when the Magicicadas woke up to the sound of Joe Cocker, and we both learned the language of the spheres.

0

Sep 25, 2014

Sep 25, 2014 at 1:57 AM UTC

tyler-lynn-pulliam

Decatur, A Kingdom in Six Parts, Part IV: Bona Fide Untruths of The West End (Revised)

By this time of the year (In days of old and times past) we would already be skipping off onto deer trails-------- ^^^^^^^^^^in the woods of Fairview park.^^^^^^^^^^ - at the bottom of Stevens Creek runs through those steep hills. - We will dip our toes in the slow, murky water (James came to town) as the thick, sweet smell of my burning cigarillo (and the whiskey fell into our glasses.) lingers on the water's surface. (It was a race to see who would pass out last) It is here that we are young; No moss clinging. (and be the one to see him off at dawn.) - That old shit-colored truck with the key broken off in the ignition will take life with every well-used car I'm in. "The Brown Trout". Marcus called from the 24-hour gas station on Eldorado to tell you he broke the key in the ignition and couldn't seem to get the ****** truck started. We gave comedy its due. What could we have done at that point but stumble into the blue? I recall forty girls & boys crammed into an efficiency apartment that night as the bathroom vent sapped the room of smoke, liquor stench and Nag Champa incense, while the dense fog of budding lust hung in stasis over our heads. Boys on the exit living out their tree house fantasies; drinking away boredom and skateboard injuries. - Phantoms of the apartment buildings (Do you remember Dipper Lane?) at the end of West Main tell tales of past tenants. (I seem to have forgotten your name again.) What does it feel like (Did you hear something?) to be a home away from home? (I've been alone this whole time.) - It's four years later and the bikini tree has tan lines, they cut down the big black walnut at my old house, and built my ark from its wood. Supple leaves line the Sylvan Queen's Kermes colored hair as we sail for higher ground. Now the stinging sunlight cuts through the cracks in the wood. - I'm examining the border of a much larger picture. Even now, the resolution grows fuzzy. You are a leaf on the five-hundredth page of my dictionary. Ginko. I placed you there on a particularly sunny day in July when the Magicicadas woke up to the sound of Joe Cocker, and we both learned the language of the spheres.

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