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Bows N' Arrows Mar 2018
Foggy breeze through my
fingertips when sunburnt days
seem coveted in memory.
When the columbines came back from the dead.
Burnt up cities...
The last glimpse of
firefly lights grew dim behind me
The trees sprouted everywhere like stardust
The pillars I once worshipped
in incense with amulets
became faded ruins...
The weathered walls texture
were like sequins with no glimmer
I escaped again to a place with green lakes and forrests of pines
It's quieter up here in the
Like a shudder through the
I hear the old house moan all
through the day and all
through the night
The sunlight pierces through
the blinds
illuminating his face
which is already illuminated
But you're my bumblebee
that insignia- a honey gatherer
If you subtract the intimacy
out of ***...
Nothing's left, but
hollow mechanical *******
Stealing the rythmn from
the music
Sturdy as a beam I lay
Unable to grasp at anything
It's just noise
Sweaty day, shivering nights-juxtaposed
It's like living on Mercury
In decomposition like a basket of rotten lemons
Past conversations crush their
weight against my open ribs
No parent teacher or friend
told me how all consuming the sensation would be...
Dazed eyes staring through
disheveled blinds,
I was dropping rose buds off the
second floor balcony in the night
They hit the scratchy asphalt
like a gentle meteor shower
Monotonous nights replay
the same phases
That moon...
A face splashing
from gibbous to crescent
Waning on my malady
Always stirring like a steady torch
Rohan Press Mar 9
Crystalline cold upon asphalt:


It melts for me,
I am colder by you,

We do not collide.
missed james today
M Blake Jan 2018
I'm trying. Like trying to grow roses on asphalt--

we go to gather

like two too similar shades of blue.

And what is it about 3am that can make a spirit shout?

And how does the sound an, "I'll always love you,"

makes as it streaks through

space turn into a forever kind of

Medusa May 2018
rain love fell a dream tonight
you were not there, but felt close
seeing nothing in mist of trouble
walking cloud of forgotten shrouds

no one, dank street, cruel houses
no dry place no cats about
wearing red and yellow slickers
long while cats hidden entire

wandering one wet world
slick pavement sky so asphalt
empty windows gaped calling
out deceptively catch the unwary

windows, concrete, no trees
mother's voice laughs soundlessly
no signposts, no streetlights
oddly forlorn, my hometown

unmarked, without direction
darker than hell's moonless night
this is my town, my place
one learns, find a way

feel the way, march in tyme
crawl slowly out the pier
knowing bay so full tonight

use poet radar
you will not
Taking a walk in my town is strange, there are literally no streetlights, no sidewalks, and a bay at the end. On the many foggy or moonless nights you could swear you are on the dark side of the moon, not a car or person in sight.
the thought of death is an uneasy thought
in my case it's a ****** nightmare

on the 16th day of May, 1967, Mr Youngblood took his 6th grade class to the playground as he always did, every Tuesday after lunch. The kids spread out to their usual positions. Some played catch with Mr Youngblood. A few, like Roger and me went to the basketball net and several played on the monkey bars, both of which were part of the big asphalt square. Just opposite this area was the soccer field and then some good distance between that and the Middle School. Lots of open space for a bunch of suburban kids to have fun. The Sun was bright and the wind was light and the temperature was right around perfect. We had been playing for 10 minutes or so when the wind picked up and clouds seemed to move in out of nowhere. We all thought it must be a storm coming...and it was. A distant laugh froze everyone. At first no-one saw him, but then we all saw him at once. He was walking across the soccer field towards us, long deliberate strides. Where he came from is a mystery as there was nothing but open land behind him for several hundred yards. He was tall and lanky and as he approached us, I noticed that his face was contorted and discolored...a pale, almost painted white and he had jet black hair combed back, long and greasy. His lips were thin and black and his eyes bloodshot and almond shaped. He wore a black suit, a black shirt and candy apple red tie. He looked like a mosh-up of Curry's Pennywise and Ledger's Joker, only I would have traded for either one of those ******* right now over this guy, ten to one. He came to the edge of the concrete square. Johnny ****** his pants and Charlene fell from the monkey bars, landing awkwardly on her left side and causing a compound fracture, her radius protruding from her skin leaving her hand dangling like a dead fish. She did not scream either because she was scared it might draw his attention or she was going into shock...or maybe both. He took two more steps forward and then began laughing as if he'd just heard the funniest joke he'd ever been told. His teeth looked as if they'd been replaced with shark's teeth. I swear there were rows of them and his mouth stretched inhumanly wide. His laugh slowly winded down to a snarl, and he gave a long look to each one of us, as if he was burning the faces to memory. And then he spoke..."You children just go on having lots of fun! Well, except for you Johnny...didn't your Mom just rip you a new *** for ******* your pants at Grandma's? shame, shame!" And Johnny was off...tripping twice before he got his feet under him. "You run home and ...Ha Ha Ha...oh my...change your pants, you pathetic little ****!" Mr Youngblood picked up Charlene and started to carry her inside. By this time her pretty pink dress was soaked in blood. The freak addressed him. "Nice man...but you can't save them. In a few days they will all be mine." He laughed again and every kid ran for their lives back to the school. I was the only one who stayed. To this day I'm not sure why. He turned and walked towards me slowly. "What have we here? The little man isn't running with the others. Are you not afraid Billy boy? Afraid for your life?"...and he leaned in close...close enough that I smelled a foulness that cannot be described. "Because that is what I'm here for...your life!" "Who are you?", I asked... and with that his dark black and pointed eyebrows raised and he straightened up. "Who am I...Who am I? My, my the boy has a backbone. The nerve to question while others lose control of their bladders. Well, I'll tell you who I am, child. I am God's worst nightmare. I am every ***** little secret thought you've ever had. I am evil in all it's forms wrapped up in one little package and sent to collect the souls of the innocent. All of you here today will be mine tomorrow. Roger will fall down the stairs off of his front porch and break his neck. Charlene will die from infection due to that nasty little accident and Becky will be hit by the school bus Thursday morning. That will be most nasty! Almost a decapitation. I won't bore you with the rest, but they will all die. know what Billy... I like you, so I'm thinking, perhaps...yes, I'm going to make a special offer to my new special friend. I won't take your soul until you die from natural causes. What do you think of that idea? At that moment, when your family is gathered round your bedside after suffering that...well, maybe you don't want to know the details... you will see a bright light...but you won't be going towards the light that moment I will place my hand on your shoulder and that light will slowly fade into darkness and we will meet again, and you will become my apprentice. So, what do you think of that, Billy? Do you want to be my apprentice, or do I **** you now? Come, come...I haven't much time!" I tried to answer, but my mouth was as dry as cardboard and I could only manage a weak gasp. That laugh again and he turned and walked away in the same direction..."I'll take that as a yes. Remember, you are mine upon your death, Billy boy!" The wind died and the Sun appeared again.
By the end of the week, every child on the playground that day had died...exactly as he stated they would.

And now you know why, even in my darkest days, I never, ever contemplate suicide.
this story was prompted by a Joker bobblehead I found in a collectibles store that is creepy as hell - I think I will make it my annual Halloween post!
Sethnicity Apr 2017
Yet I Am Ready
Watching the waves eat away the castles made of sand
Staring at the way wind is churning at infrastructure       land
like a big bad wolf who found the fear and lean foundation of a brick house
I am ready for her hand

I am all ready
Traversing fields filled with fruitless wonders
burning tundras rolling thunders
A Man attempting to put out its grand made funeral pyre
with nothing but a Jack and Jill bucket filled with reverse osmosis electrolyte infused hydrogen oxygen expired prayers
I am Ready for no man land

I have a radio already
Listening to Nokia raven chirps and bubble bee gyrations.
Evergreens whispers as wild blooms break concrete and asphalt and building plans
giving smiles to homeless man and woman
dreamers flowering in the night lights that were supposed to replace stars

I am ready
for the woods to takeover the hoods
for bear feets to take over the streets
for napkins to become extinct
to write with my god-given red ink
so that my being will dye into stone and dirt
To leave my DNA on my mothers belly and hear her cry
As she covers my mouth closes her eyes tearful from radioactive winds
let her know that I loved her and hugged her every chance I could
I am ready to give up me for we have not given back enough
We have devoured the essence and forgotten how to seed and harvest  
the nothing has become us
which is why Earths flesh is colored rust
like  blood mixed with scratching dust
we have bruised the body
and wonder if we can blame something someone else
but US
Every time the finger points the object of our deflection disappears
Rearrange the letters she was trying to help us HEARt
Rearrange the letters EARth is trying to make us Heart
I'm trying to make us Ear

These MTHFCKRS are among US.
We have bred them with our love lust
still unaware that they a fungus
These MTHRFCKRS have become US
they save a life to **** it from us.
they manufacture fakes to stunt us
These MTHRFCKRS have become US
Ideas devoid of what we need to come up
She must go now and rip it from us
We must shed our blood just to fund us
Cause these MTHRFCKRS have out done US
What have we become?
I have not given up this is not about surrender it is about sacrifice.
What are you willing to sacrifice for a Better way and Better World a Better Future... or are you just another DMN MTHR FCKR
Gnat Jan 9
Have you seen me?
I'm missing.

In a little town,
that I've been around,
I've found the one
and only hole in hundreds
leading to a separate world

Asphalt and all,
cold hearts,
nearly bare feet travel lengthy
streets, small in complaint.

Asphalt and all,
dead brains,
nearly there, but wrapped in
politic, fighting over what's real.

Have you seen me?
Apparently, I'm gone with no reason.

I've been around.
Everything is strange lines coming
out of nowhere, taking root as patterns,
meaning what you make it.

Asphalt and all,
**** brains,
nowhere near, but covered
in politic, fighting over what's real.
-- but I'm alive.

They can fight me.
-- but I'm alive.
All your brains can fight me,
fight their eyes.
They can fight me.
All they want to fight.
They can fight me.
-- but I'm alive.
                 I'm alive.
                       I'm alive.
                             I'm alive.

Fight me.
I'm smoking ****,
diving into dreams,
barely leaving my house.
Come on, *****, fight me.
If your heart does so explode,
when your eyes cast sight on what you know
is abominable, then come and arson these
paper walls with me inside.
Fight me. Take the life.

-- but I existed.
                 I existed.
                       I existed.
I take solace knowing that by living at all,
I've angered people.
That's, hilarious.
A Slow Heyoka Apr 20
Words of amendment attempted to form around my mouth
As I watched a sinking ship sail away over a burning bridge

I tried to smack them away with a kiss but it just left a rash of scorn
Which seemed to spread all the way to the elbow grease I'd been saving for that rainy day

It made it really hard to pull my head out of the asphalt
The hole I could have left it in forever
I guess I can always go back to it whenever

If it wasn't for these vexing and inauspicious Idle hands
I'd be at the end of the game by


There's salt on the bedsheets and tears in the mill
How I long for those poison claws
To drag me back into her ghyll

Frosty fingers burning my neck
Scratching at the hourglass sands
Chasing that nostalgic wyrm back into the pages of Zanarkand
                               .                .
And still...         .            .
                          []        []
           It may seem a little cliche
               I find it kind of hard to convey
The hardest thing I did to this day
       Was watch that sinking ship
                                                                ­                ...Sail away
poem by: A Slow Heyoka
Written in September 2017
Butch Decatoria Aug 2018
Beach city by the cool sea
not so easy city
not too busy, too ******, or greasy city

to take off
your shirt
to feel the breezy - city
I am
curiously lost in,
excitably exploring you
engorged asphalt-hard city  
different from my boyhood memory

not so scary-big - city
a great place to grow-up
kind of city
open roads bike rides
on my schwinn
safely suburb city

she's successfully savvy
sophisticated city
evolved from understanding
Downtown pity
No border walls
Chaps are diggy
Navy city

city of girls who can be
as manly and boys are as
pretty, gritty
of individuality
like a quirky
cousin, *****, brotha, niece
with Cali.-valley speak! - city

there's so much i want to see,
learn and believe in
this city,
i am a long lost twin city
just a baby,
friendly city, ******* your full *****

care for me daily
wish me luck a lotto city
even in my muck and ****** ditties
unconditionally cradling me with love
this LEGO city...
californicating sea world and zoos
old town wanderlust
Carmen on the trolley

San Diego by the sea,
in my blood,
this city by the beach
This city
that I love...
Final edit. Repost.
Simone13 Aug 2018
Like an aberration
A colossal of ways  
Is when the moonlight
Meets the sun raise  

                                           Time-lined asphalt
                              Orb shadowing the dawn
                          Avoiding flickering wounds
                                                   By moving on

Like a neighbor
A wall mould to clay
That is the burden
Between night and day
David Abraham Aug 2018
You are not quite yet up in years,
but to your ears:
familiar are the faded tunes, dripping from the radio like soda from bottles you didn't quite close,
tapping from your stiff foot.

On the asphalt you walk barefoot,
because we walk barefoot where we live.
You are alive where you drive.

You are not quite yet up in years,
but in your ears:
sound declines
like each hill you descend in the fifty-two miles of wild between us,
and you ignore the posted signs
telling you to quiet the roaring and whipping of wind in your busted windows,
telling you to slow the tearing and straining of your tires.

On the asphalt and off, you know how to set fires,
because your late old man and your unseen mother taught you how.
You may not know, but I see how you deepen your brow.

Old Blue has more troubles that you may care to admit,
because she can only just make it.

Neither of you are quite up in your years,
and still I have my fears,
but they are not tears,
because you
and Old Blue
take us where we can get lost
and not feel the loss.
I was listening to "Fast Car" by Tracy Chapman, and I was thinking about my dad, so I wrote this.
August, 9th 2018.
Beatrix Mar 2018
today I went to the beach.
my favorite part is
when the ocean starts
showing up above the horizontal line
drawn by the asphalt.
you see this second shade of blue,
getting bigger, closer
and you breathe that refreshing salty smell
and you close your eyes
and take a deep breath
as if getting ready to enter another state of mind,

the sand was unbearably hot
the water was warmer and warmer
strange pieces of seaweed floated
and touched my body,
got stuck in my hands, arms, curls.
but at least I saw a turtle
swimming as if it was as peaceful
as I am now that I've came back from the ocean,
wet and with my hair full of sand,
my skin darker,
my mind as clear as that blue sky...

the weather forecast says it is going to rain soon.
James Floss Jul 2018
The clickety-click
of pedaling paused
The sound of ease
of exhale breeze

following gravity’s grade
Sliding flying on asphalt  
I’ll pick up the pace soon
but now, just flow
this godforsaken path
that lies ahead
is one i’m impelled
to walk on

never meandering
burning asphalt
such starkness
in a world of beauty

grow up
get a decent degree
get a decent job
(a white-collar commuter,
with half-decent insurance)
marry a wonderful woman
get a spacious two-story
in the heart of suburbia
two children,
one a boy, one a girl
invest in a midsize suv
grow up
retire with a cushy 401 (k)
watch my children
(and theirs)
graduate and follow
their respective paths
age and age and age
and age and age and
learn to take everything
in between with a pinch
of salt

go to the grave knowing
i didn’t live my life
(oh well)
i am deviant.

please read the impending pt. 2!
I begin my walk
on the circled asphalt path
behind the old Lutheran church
founded in 1790
the crickets chirp
a defiant roar
as I descend upon their quiet space
clouds are dark and a bit threatening
are they spirits taking form above me?
mistral winds on a windless day
seem to gather and fuse into words
held for a moment...clear
then lost to fuzzy and distorted whispers
'They are here...'
'Listen to me...I must ****'
'I have an angel'

before departing
I stop at a headstone
I'm not sure why
but I attempt
to pronounce the last name of this departed soul
3 times
on the 3rd try I am interrupted by a young boy
who corrects me with the proper pronunciation
I turn at the gate and advise the spirits
that I am leaving
a friendly 'okay' came back to me

my God
I have walked in the living room of the dead
upon review of my 20 minute evp session in this cemetery, I came upon more than 30 anomalies including several direct responses. I have been doing this since 2013 and have never approached the level of activity I received on this walk. The response I got when pronouncing the last name on the headstone and being corrected...may be the one most fascinating evp I have ever captured.
Mallory Apr 16
Doe eyed
deers in headlights
always get
I’m telling you to sprint.
Don’t get caught up
in the way the the light
illuminates the life
within you.
If you look directly,
for a moment too long
it will unearth your eyes,
and hold you hostage
by your blindness.
Intentions know so little
about the ways in which life lives and lashes out on us.
And so often,
are we ill advised
by hope.
And desire.
I’m telling you to run.
The sky and the stars are brighter
the further away from the road you go.
These lights were not meant for you.
They were made to guide
wanderers along asphalt.
And you have wandered these forests
enough to know
doe eyed
deers in headlights
always get hit.
JC Lucas Jul 2018
The black of undermaintained asphalt
in a ribbon rolling over
the volcanic hills,
the yellow of the centerline
flashing into view and passing beneath
in a rhythm,
like a heartbeat.

Jackrabbit on the shoulder
***** his head and springs
away from something in his imagination,
following the yellow dashes
in an awkward gait,
a single bold jump
followed by twenty yards of
dead sprint.

Not eight feet overhead
a pair of nighthawks bob and flutter
but following one another in

of something I cannot see.
Keith Mitchell Nov 2018
SF 75
triggers a blast off
low orbit glide
mount Tamalpais
you’re beautiful not an obstacle
hwy1 with your new asphalt
laying rubber to this situation
can you feel the burn
apex views of the great pacific abyss
light haze floating in to provide
dragon fly
you pitch side by side wave
just before you dart
how did you avoid me?
flying at sixty nine mph
you zip out
while other creatures splattered
on my face
butterflies bouncing on flowers
when I Look around
beautiful blue Pacific Ocean
negative ions
cherished situation
but where are you
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