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#grounds
The flags are waving brightly, hypnotizing the naive, they shimmer like carnival balloons. There are merry andrews waltzing, to the themes of marching bands, they’re camouflaged to blend in with the moon. The party’s getting started, so we better get in line - the wind is breathing something like a sigh. The smell of cotton candy drowns out the barkers script, and multicolored lights announce the mood. There’s rain off in the distance - you can feel on your skin - the children refuse to stay in line. Dogs are barking somewhere, and lanterns dance like birds - there’s nothing left to do but step in time, two, three, four. The tent is Chinese silk, as silver as a coin - acrobats take tickets with their lips. The sawdust smells like bacon, and the seats are way too small, but the crowd is pushing in because red rain is falling. Elephants turn like dancers, and trumpet to the night - the sound shakes the world like my alarm. Another ho-hum morning, soon the sky will tell a lie, - that lemon light has something to proclaim. My bags are packed for boredom, the trip will last all day, - there’s nothing left to do but step in time, two, three, four.
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Nov 5, 2020
Nov 5, 2020 at 7:27 AM UTC
the fair
Thy lips like golden pages of a sacred book are shining. Thou art resplendent in gold; I am shy in waves of pink. Soften my sweet sap, soften my love for thee and let it be planted like a seed in the grounds. With thy light may thou water my heart. For thee I die, for thee I die.
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Nov 2, 2020
Nov 2, 2020 at 7:32 AM UTC
Tim
...My hardened heart has been awakened. The broken grounds will begin to quake and within the crevices between the faults, Your rushing water will flood....
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Apr 12, 2018
Apr 12, 2018 at 12:06 PM UTC
(An excerpt from) Reborn
The grounds seem wet like the last layer of a years flood or the beginning of a light drizzle I cannot tell, I cannot tell -Kaya
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May 16, 2017
May 16, 2017 at 12:37 PM UTC
I Cannot Tell
*Wherever they are Would you let these thoughts and dreams profound Settle to the base of your stomach Like that stray grains of coffee grounds Not filtered through the thinness of society But strained through the fibers of the heart Ever flowing from the the mind Until the truth is boiled down And at the bottom of the cup found*
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Jan 16, 2017
Jan 16, 2017 at 11:05 AM UTC
The Percolator
I rob roadside grave markers I rub my *** at the library And I never wash my hands. I carry a disease for my popularity, I *** in beds and get **** in my boxer briefs. I get by with flashbacks and I like to lick the Slime off of toads. I deleted my birthday. There is no reason to celebrate Or ever allow ice cream, nor smiling. There shall be no smiling. I am a heathen and unforgettable But I don't hate and I ain't racist.
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Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 1:19 AM UTC
Grounds For Recital
Can't go to my aunt's place again, Benny, Nima said to me as we sat out on the grass in the hospital grounds. Why is that? I said. My mother's found out we go there and she will be watching the place now, and it will be too risky, Nima said. How'd she find out we were going there? I asked. She managed to get me to say, but I think she knew anyway, Nima said, looking over towards the trees. Does she know about me? Not who you are, but she knows I'm seeing someone, and having *** with them, Nima said. So what now? I said. Have to book a cheap hotel for the weekend again, she said. Where abouts? I said. She looked at me seriously, I don't know, not too far way or we will waste time traveling as I only have a weekend pass. I'll find us some place near, I said. We lit up cigarettes, and sat smoking. She was in a green top and jeans, and her hair was neat, but she had nothing on her small feet.
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Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 2:30 AM UTC
NOTHING ON HER FEET 1967.