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#skate
Sway like the wind Contract your core Feel it harden Let out your roar As you release with intention Lay her out flat Juke With determination Make the blockers curse Cause they lost track Nickel and dime My currency As I make My way back around Securing our victory As the venue fills with joyous sound
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Jul 8, 2021
Jul 8, 2021 at 3:28 AM UTC
#62
Feeling changed But longing to be the same Life stretching out Long and wide Remember my first ride And how far I’ve come Same words Different meaning to every one Take a breath And another one Take a step And another one Trust It will be alright Letting go Into the unknown Dropping in To the adventure Of life
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Oct 30, 2020
Oct 30, 2020 at 5:51 PM UTC
The Drop In
It was a retro roller rink, Skating around boards that gave you splinters, Trying each arcade game, wasting quarters, And how many times you could bribe the DJ to Play your favorite song. He was sitting alone in the corner of the side cafe, At the booth where the floor had a giant crack, Where his foot was nervously tapping, Sunshine was streaming in on his curly red hair, As he waited in suspense for Her To walk through the door, all confidence and smiles, Like she was the lead in a musical. She had that magical way of walking and skating, Almost like every move was a Choreographed mix of chaos and art. The hours passed, the rink cleared out, The sun went down over his booth, And he continued to tap his foot on the Crack in the floor. But when she came sweeping in that door at 11:36 pm brighter than the disco ball, His heart swelled like the bass on a road trip, And as the two of them sweat their hearts out On the rink until the wee hours of the morning, That maze of splinters and heartbreaks, He found that he had never been as happy as he was with Her.
0
Jan 13, 2020
Jan 13, 2020 at 4:22 PM UTC
choreographed love
a caper has the flower trifocal and ties from the skies now leaner than haze that romance mash on sand only jasper there's midst of surfboard the recumbent fashion of hers and solely in this decampment will bring safari to encampment though she suffered triumph litany with mishmash and hullabaloo yet she'll pound the pipe in her organic fangs mays butter's a lot of bot to ground those tears of Walloon there a plunder from seaside saloon
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Nov 8, 2019
Nov 8, 2019 at 10:10 AM UTC
surfing
Your words glide Over my Heart like a Skater skates On ice lakes. Slowly you Wear me down; Carve your words Onto my Heart with blades. One time you Will cut through And fall in Through the crack That you made. You will try To climb out, But you are Stuck in the Void with me. Now you'll know Just the harm That a few Words can cause. Can't you tell?
0
Oct 22, 2019
Oct 22, 2019 at 3:10 AM UTC
Skate
I've found myself on the razor's edge, Like a figure skater. I skate through life, Avoiding hazards with grace, Holding my head up high, And spinning out of control Once in a while, Only to collect myself In poised determination And a flick of the wrist, Brushing the worries away.
0
Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 12:05 AM UTC
Figure Skater
i look at my skateboard down at the ground i close my eyes and roll down the hill getting faster and faster until i hit flat ground i open my eyes when i roll down the hill i feel free the breeze hitting my face my hair blows in the wind the sun on my skin its all too good i feel at home like a belong thank you to my skateboard
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Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 4:58 PM UTC
skateboard
A river frozen deep, a blanket of smooth ice. Wide and forever in all directions. I skate. Wind whispering through the strands of my hair, a sweet conversation. Gliding, I draw with the blades of my skates, My skirt is flattered by the wind, how flirtatious. Flying, My feet begin to confuse the ice for air and start to float. Free. I feel the warmth of ice.
0
Oct 7, 2017
Oct 7, 2017 at 7:06 AM UTC
The Feet Learn to Fly
i see saggy cargo pants, marijuana and at least three mall grips. some pseudo outcast cool kids carving out skidmarks, painting the concrete waves with wheels and their bloodstains. hey look at that guy in the corner, he just bought two burnt spoonfuls of a score. it doesn't look like he can take any more, though. or the guys playing six tricks roulette, on a quarterpipe, on a bet, for a cheap pack of cigarettes.
0
May 1, 2017
May 1, 2017 at 6:49 AM UTC
a night at the skatepark
You float over the concrete the way driftwood rides the ocean waves, smooth and graceful. Your arms rise to the sky in sync with your legs like a puppet, but you hold your own strings, you control your own movements so seamlessly as if you were born with a board beneath your feet. Your eyes hold focus how a starving man holds a scrap of bread, not fully moldy in the garbage. You spin and swap your body with the lash of a whip and how I wish you'd crack me just once so I could taste your precision. How beautiful a sight it is to see someone so perfectly aligned with the Earth that gravity allows you a pass on the rules. And when you're finished the passion that beams from you is so intoxicating, I'm too unsteady on my feet to try to follow.
0
Apr 26, 2017
Apr 26, 2017 at 4:06 PM UTC
Fluidity
Beneath the sunrise of a cold new year, Standing alone on the banks of an ice-covered river, My Soul is frozen in time. Reflecting upon warm memories, Melting away ice-cold winter days, Skating alongside you, Through ripples of time, I call out to you, My shining princess, I love you. Copyright © 2017 Ronald J Chapman All Rights Reserved. ... Yuna Kim Montage-Through the eyes of love https://youtu.be/O3uzOxxUvmE
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Jan 1, 2017
Jan 1, 2017 at 11:03 AM UTC
Warm Memories
It's strange How much an object can take you away From the stress and the pain When I put that board down It's like everything fades away All that is left is the wind in my face And the feeling in my chest Like a weight has been lifted A veil pulled from my eyes On my board I feel confident Like I'm on top of the world It's a liberating feeling and it never grows old
0
Nov 12, 2016
Nov 12, 2016 at 3:15 AM UTC
My Pedestal
We sat outside the coffee shop next to a fire, watching the sun set behind decrepit buildings. I lamented over the lack of a roller rink in the area, reflecting on memories of wobbling around in circles with dizzying lights and blaring speakers ejecting Pink, Daft Punk, and Eiffel 65 onto my critical youth. I felt like a king. We finished our smoothies and retreated to an empty hotel parking lot, where I taught her to skateboard. One foot over the front bolts, the back foot over two of the back bolts but resting over the tail, kick, push, it's in the ***** of your feet-- weight distribution. Tic, tac, scrape, thud-- she falls repeatedly and gets back up. I admire her resilience and perpetual smile-- This is what skateboarding is all about. We roll around the hotel parking lot, our endpoints being a lone luminescent lamppost and a telephone pole beleaguered by a plot of shrubbery that demarcates itself from the pavement. We circle around the poles for hours, forming an imaginary oblong track between the two, our laughs carrying into the cool summer night lullaby that sang the drowsy small town to sleep. The fading throb of the wedding reception at the bottom of the town square by the wharf, carrying over to us. The stores closed up hours ago, silent empty windows reflecting the lonely streetlights and our ambulance back at us. We skated on unperturbed into the night hour. A man walks outside the hotel to have a cigarette on the sidewalk-- I imagine he is watching us and admiring our glee. Rolling between this telephone pole and lamppost, the glare and reflection of the empty silent windows, the soundtrack singing above our heads, our laughs, and the tic-tac of skateboards and groaning of wheels over stubborn pavement bringing my melancholic reverie to a halt, recognizing and understanding happiness in the present moment-- This is my roller rink.
0
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 1:13 AM UTC
Roller Rink
We sat outside the coffee shop next to a fire, watching the sun set behind decrepit buildings. I lamented over the lack of a roller rink in the area, reflecting on memories of wobbling around in circles with dizzying lights and blaring speakers ejecting Pink, Daft Punk, and Eiffel 65 onto my critical youth. I felt like a king. We finished our smoothies and retreated to an empty hotel parking lot, where I taught her to skateboard. One foot over the front bolts, the back foot over two of the back bolts but resting over the tail, kick, push, it's in the ***** of your feet-- weight distribution. Tic, tac, scrape, thud-- she falls repeatedly and gets back up. I admire her resilience and perpetual smile-- This is what skateboarding is all about. We roll around the hotel parking lot, our endpoints being a lone luminescent lamppost and a telephone pole beleaguered by a plot of shrubbery that demarcates itself from the pavement. We circle around the poles for hours, forming an imaginary oblong track between the two, our laughs carrying into the cool summer night lullaby that sang the drowsy small town to sleep. The fading throb of the wedding reception at the bottom of the town square by the wharf, carrying over to us. The stores closed up hours ago, silent empty windows reflecting the lonely streetlights and our ambulance back at us. We skated on unperturbed into the night hour. A man walks outside the hotel to have a cigarette on the sidewalk-- I imagine he is watching us and admiring our glee. Rolling between this telephone pole and lamppost, the glare and reflection of the empty silent windows, the soundtrack singing above our heads, our laughs, and the tic-tac of skateboards and groaning of wheels over stubborn pavement bringing my melancholic reverie to a halt, recognizing and understanding happiness in the present moment-- This is my roller rink.
Continue reading...
48
Flip flip slide slide grind grind pop pop concentration. hours and hours sweat pours bruised ankles bruised kneecaps scraped shinbones scraped elbows scabs and scars. shirts and jeans torn, worn; shoes a tattered mess-- laces shredded to bits tied desperately clinging on to lapping tongues. hair matted to skull sweating within damp skullcaps, whether be it helmets (by choice or restriction), or fitted baseball hats turned backwards, or cuffed beanies in the dead of winter. (father says the latter choices work well to soak all the blood up, I always roll my eyes in naivete.) The paved driveway, where on my eighth birthday a shining basketball goal sat at its full height towering in the mountain sky-- stood forlorn in place as wide eyes glued to the pavement-- where shoes stood atop the gritty surface of a wooden board with wheels attached to gleaming metal axles rolled smoothly excitedly across the pavement in perpetuity. destiny.
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Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 4:54 PM UTC
Concentration
Round and round, a flash in fluid motion, in the desolate ice rink she skates and dances embracing freedom, my sense of time shrinks and expands at her  own sweet will the fiery flight of an angel, it's spirit  hits her lover's heart but only tickles and explodes in a rain of bright love signs. I've been watching this breath taking phenomenon, without batting an eyelid, how long, I lost all estimates, my  sins go up in smoke when  my heart,is up in flight, benediction is the result of watching her write poetry thus.
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Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 12:45 PM UTC
Benediction
Tonight I found myself in a parking lot. I jumped, I ran, I slid, and I smiled. I, once again looked for shortcuts to ordinary life such as: crammed buses and their empty roofs. the moon looked sharp, and I wasn't worried of anyone else; but me. eluding merely six vehicles in a free-way because I like the rush next to death. but I was breathing, more alive than ever, with a board on 4-wheels gripped. and proud to be lost, proud to be nothing, proud to feel like I did first, 5 years ago. and I was happy.
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Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 10:38 AM UTC
PARKING LOT POEM
Bruises and scars long roads that will take you far the sound of your wheels the sound of my heartbeat as kids we'd play along sticker tattoos of black and gold silly jokes and odd fears as hollow as your dreams we grew older knowing what the future would lead us through you broke your heart and your bones 2 years past but it pains you more if only you'd let her in you would not hear her scream you would not see the light you would not see the light
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Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 3:46 AM UTC
AIR
ice skating is like loving you hold on to the edge, afraid to fall, get yourself hurt and let go but eventually you will have to let go and learn how to glide freely on your own sure you will fall on your **** and you will get hurt but that's how you'll learn and thats how you become strong by picking yourself up and moving forward - MMM
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Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 12:58 PM UTC
Ice Skating
I was a dare devil, I always raised the level, I got bruises and scars, But that didn't stop me from going bizarre I would jump and skate, But it wasn't my fate, I have to find something else to do, Before I don't have clue © Sasha Morales
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May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 8:45 PM UTC
Dare devil
son spreads knee blood into ******* &/or sidewalk chalk. mixes reds to pinks with head cracking asphalt. of god & country. of soggy bread in a lunch-bag; snackpack readied. he skates. the concussed ****** of booming youth. omega he: to the wolf pack outers. breathing love of summer, he is the son drunk on hi-c & burping. watching teenaged supersoakers yodel on a bridge. florida. son sneaks out late to rationalize the city’s features under strange light & love of nightly people. boy sculpts body out of beast, turned dark corners. arrives swollen. his father erects a roofed flattop in the backyard slab with flood light electronics taught to worship the shred. mother rattles the blender on the kitchen outskirts, ***** breathed & nearing with hugs. blister-itched. glossed folds of scar tissue. those days on summer-beyond when the neighborhood pulsates. with satellite dishes tuneforking high-frequency vibrations from outerspace & pigeons explode. son’s ears bleed, & the television goes unwatched. he snaps plank & ankle protein, refurbishing his legs into iron-rods or wands of summer anthem. cold war. he empties sugar-sweat & toxins into the storm-drain. essence of wet heat, skin pinched, & friend of ghosts. a three legged dog lay in the shade leisurely watching the boy skate on endless.
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Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 1:11 AM UTC
skateboard gothic