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"doughnuts" poems
O come buy doughnuts doughnuts doughnuts doughnuts for sale sweet ones, ladies and yummy ones, gents; precious doughnuts you’ve never seen in your lands I made them with my own hands each sugary and yum to the core round and hollow in the middle each doughnut like Einstein’s universe O come buy doughnuts doughnuts doughnuts doughnuts for sale colorful doughnuts I have for you gathered here I climbed the skies to steal a color off each rainbow that appears and disappears – so have a blue doughnut, a red or pink or green or purple any color you will or a psychedelic one if that please you more O look at this love doughnut trick: it fits your fingers like a huge wedding ring and your beloved bites through and then gets to your finger and has to lick off every drop of sugar and then kisses you on your hands and after that O, modesty forbids me to say anything beyond – it’s all up to you… Or would you prefer a doughnut bangle? O come buy doughnuts doughnuts doughnuts doughnuts for sale O beautiful ladies and gentle Sirs please make all my doughnuts disappear within the hour
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Sep 27, 2010
Sep 27, 2010 at 11:57 PM UTC
doughnuts for sale
In a sunny spot resides a new bench. It would be a perfect place to sit among the flowers with children sitting at your feet teaching them all that you know about animals about the great outdoors from a time when they were experienced in person not on the Discovery Channel not on TV You could read a book to them there too like Wild Animals I Have Known by Ernest Thompson Seaton the naturalist. You could sit quietly in the sunshine and nurse an unfortunate animal back to health like a Gecko or turtle or opossum You could just sit your Dunkin Doughnuts iced coffee in your hand and take it all in or let it all out your choice. But you never will do any of these things on this bench in the sunny spot among the plants and flowers and smooth river rocks painted in your honor by the children to whom you are missed because the bench is dedicated with your name on it in memory of you.
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Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 12:11 AM UTC
The Bench
I used to buy doughnuts with granules of sugar on. You had to lick it from your lips. The sugar on doughnuts became estranged. Exchanged for sticky syrup,shining. Nothing like yesterdays doughnuts They taste almost the same, They look a little less inviting. But today's doughnuts' are still exciting. (C) Livvi
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Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 6:18 AM UTC
DOUGHNUTS
a grandchild    for her 9th birthday very happy     to be away from her older    as well as her younger sister   for a while spent a  long weekend with her grands    they picked her up    schoolbag and bathing suit    and guitar & everything else she had already mentioned    that French Toast for breakfast would be REALLY nice and that’s what she got together with chocolate milk    1 minute in the microwave,    according to her wish patiently reading her book while the oldies got their act together    in their slow morning routine they all went birthday shopping    & out for lunch she read her book again while the oldies     were snoring their nap & then they all had great fun     swimming and horsing around in the public pool watching some TV      & improving her ping-pong game happy & tired after dinner some goodnight reading doughnuts and hot chocolate for breakfast next morning    and then     with grandma’s help printing out a card for Mom on Mother’s day AND baking real  brownies as a gift…. a happy & proud 9-year old    was delivered to her parents & presented her mother with the card    & the brownies & the new dress    & the homework all done somehow the guitar practice had gotten lost yet she was the envy of her siblings for the day            * * *
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May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 10:03 AM UTC
birthday child
I saw a glazed doughnut, It made me go nuts! It looked so delicious, But it was not nutritious, So I decided, why not some coconuts?!
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Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 1:09 PM UTC
Doughnuts
My soul's hot pink, like them bubble gum squares, cool, strawberry fizzy drinks, and a thick candy ice cream. Those warm, glazed over doughnuts, cupcakes with light sprinkles, jelly beans, tufts of cotton candy, and a tub of small macaroons. My soul's hot pink, like them candy hearts, sweet or **** chocolate coated easter eggs, lolipops, and sugar rocks. Those creamy cakes, fruity tastes, of gum drops, frozen pops, of sno-cones drizzled, cookie wafers, and sweet marshmallows; smoothies.
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Oct 10, 2015
Oct 10, 2015 at 4:30 PM UTC
Hot Pink Soul
Do not try to put sprinkles on a doughnut If the doughnut does not want sprinkles Find a doughnut that wants sprinkles And give them to him
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Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 9:16 AM UTC
Doughnuts
When I was a boy, about ten years old I wanted to be a Ninja A killer, stone cold So I would go to my room To practice my secret moves Against imaginary opponents Who were sure to lose I would even dress all in black For the really epic fights Then throw my plastic Ninja stars And quickly turn off the lights I was a master of stealth Ready to take on the world Using my Ninja weapons To save pretty girls With wooden sword in hand And steely guts… I had to come back to reality Because mom brought home doughnuts!
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Aug 26, 2012
Aug 26, 2012 at 5:29 AM UTC
Doughnuts of Death
Beets are Greatly Misunderstood They Make sugar from them... Because they're Sweet All kinds of Treats Candy, Cookies and Ice cream Doughnuts, Cake and Pralines Girl Scout Cookies and Frosty Shakes You should Salute the Beet for all it Makes I hope I opened your eyes to All the things that Beets can do
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Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 11:01 AM UTC
The Misunderstood Vegetable
I'll have my people call your people Where they can set something up Make sure they schedule a meeting So we can get something done We'll put our heads together Brain storming like never before Working off bold charts and diagrams That we've drawn up on the board Calling out for coffee and doughnuts We could be here all night Screaming and hashing it over Till we get this thing  perfectly right Only one thing I need to know though That's not exactly clear Who called this meeting to order And why are we all here
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Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 2:13 PM UTC
The Meeting
--- I thought of you when there are doughnuts and happy chatter all around Your laughter makes me want to smile and laugh freely at everyone
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Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 1:01 PM UTC
Beautiful Friend
DON’T LET THE ROBOTS WIN The red sun gazes upon a blue moon’s reveries While the baker glazes over our doughnuts memories 5-9 TV talks of talcum dreams, Suicide sweet ****** machines. Fascist fornication with communist candy Tastes kinda like Yankee doodle dandy I whisper over the roar of a glazed man grazing, Dazed, and drowned, to the Automated telenation: “Don’t use self checkout lines, Don’t let the robots win!”
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Feb 12, 2010
Feb 12, 2010 at 8:36 PM UTC
DON’T LET THE ROBOTS WIN
Oh Doughnuts! Oh oh Donuts!! Oho delicacy!!! This is how I long for you, To drop into my mouth, To slide down further. Long enough now it is, Your sweetness lingers, On my mind ever since.
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Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 8:27 PM UTC
Krispy Kréme
Soft Gemini green eyes Flashing a circular medallion   whose meaning is manifested in skulls Orders four doughnuts "because The world is ending tonight"
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Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 8:59 AM UTC
The end is nigh
you yes you, look up. just for a moment. notice me, hold my stare. every morning you're there same cup of orange juice same newspaper same half eaten muffin i'm here every morning too i have my usual drink my usual dog earred book my bagel why haven't you noticed me like i always seem to notice you. come on sugar look up for just a second and see the rest of your life quietly reading in the corner. come on baby come on look up.
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Aug 10, 2010
Aug 10, 2010 at 9:38 AM UTC
sunshine doughnuts
A quiet life A country life Where the grass sways in the breeze And the hues of green signify the beginning of balmy nights A far cry from the city Gone are the endless vibrant lights Gone are the 2 a.m. trips across town just because they make the best doughnuts In this place of air almost too clean to breathe They stroll A traffic jam is four cars at a stop sign Battling rules of the road with polite hat tips of "you go first" Fast feet and hot dog carts Italian ices on every corner Fifty-six blocks to a destination A world of choices A billion footprints at a time Stoplight crowds of sneakers and pantyhose Everyone is invisible and naked at once The green haired freak and the business man The limos and the gypsy cabs The excitement only felt in a world of possibilities The difference between pick up trucks and bike messengers A hundred miles for supplies Or fifty-six blocks of everything under the sun Soot filled pores and too much traffic Street sounds to sleep by and a world of opportunities Crickets and junebugs The world closes at eight Nightlife turns into Wal-Mart and Taco Bell The slow pace of growing grass The warmth of a winterless Summer Wishing for a trip across town at 2 a.m. just because they make the best doughnuts
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Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 10:53 AM UTC
Grass and Concrete
oh sure, forgiveness of sin... or perhaps crimes... or just fetishes? like John Paul II forgiving sin, once polite society answered and John Paul staged the forgiveness session in a prison cell... forgiveness alright, acted out, with all the preliminary provisions readied - ode to Mehmet Ali Ağca, forgiveness always played out great for photography when all the Chinese laws were passed - Siberia welcomes all keen joggers; but you know one thing? raised in a canine environment as a child i learned to attach a different perspective with felines: like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse - you keep teasing - you keep teasing - you keep teasing - you just wait... crocodile or boa insomniac - and when the opposite party has banked enough to cry about having lost it... you spit at your enemy's mother's face while ****** her; **** me! you get to prove god along the way! how's that for a Camden Market daytrip? and if you don't? well, it was a nice thought - feels like being a woman with a foetus craving doughnuts and pickles.
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Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 10:11 PM UTC
Christian antagonism / ode to Mehmet Ali Ağca
oh sure, forgiveness of sin... or perhaps crimes... or just fetishes? like John Paul II forgiving sin, once polite society answered and John Paul staged the forgiveness session in a prison cell... forgiveness alright, acted out, with all the preliminary provisions readied - ode to Mehmet Ali Ağca, forgiveness always played out great for photography when all the Chinese laws were passed - Siberia welcomes all keen joggers; but you know one thing? raised in a canine environment as a child i learned to attach a different perspective with felines: like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse like you'd play with a mouse - you keep teasing - you keep teasing - you keep teasing - you just wait... crocodile or boa insomniac - and when the opposite party has banked enough to cry about having lost it... you spit at your enemy's mother's face while ****** her; **** me! you get to prove god along the way! how's that for a Camden Market daytrip? and if you don't? well, it was a nice thought - feels like being a woman with a foetus craving doughnuts and pickles.
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I like to take time out of ever year to test the waters of mediocrity. I want to see if I can make the transition, take the easy way. And every **** year I put myself through it and come out the other side a little proud to see I can't take it. I wont sacrifice any part of myself for the so called rewards. I wont make your doughnuts, I wont shine your shoes, please step aside I'm on my way to the food bank.
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Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 10:57 PM UTC
Impoverished pride
~ *Memphis and the King, plagued up to his neck in denial, turning remote controls into staffs, staffs into snakes, jackals, and hounds, shaking the sistrum, singing gospels full of mystery to a god, a girl, and state of mind he will never solve, asking skies of transulent orange, from the far corners of his world, for pharmacopia, then granting Moses his freedom in exchange for a box of hot glazed doughnuts, and always his little wild petunia, painted face and percolating body, skin smooth as the eastern Delta, her weighted down heart, his tyranny, his self-destructive tongue, her asp* ~
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Aug 11, 2021
Aug 11, 2021 at 9:38 AM UTC
Pharaoh
She tells me of the loves she's found She tells of the loves she's lost And I linger to fix her broken wings At, I wonder, what cost So that she might go out with confidence To find heartbreak again It matters not, I've not forgot That I am still her friend That I am still her leaning post That I am her safety net Each night she goes whilst I stay And each day she pours her regrets Into my brain, Into my soul So I might empathize And I sit there stroking her hair And what she doesn't realize Is that I know her favorite color is yellow That her favorite song is "Almost Lover" That she went through a pregnancy scare And a fight with her dad from which she'll never recover That she giggles without fail whenever someone say "flabberghasted" And I know that she's had only five boyfriends None of which that have lasted I know she sings inside the shower Even though she may deny it I know she snores and drools on her pillow And that she prays someday Krispy Kreme doughnuts will come diet I know that she cries whenever she thinks too much That she looks forward to marriage The feeling of her husband's touch And someday a baby in a carriage And I know more than most about this girl The one with her head on my lap The one who's silent every time she cries Yet is snorting every time she laughs But here I sit with her alone Barred from going any farther than friend The girl whose afraid to lose me Who torments me without end The one who hinders my love for her And therefore invokes my selfishness Running on my brain in steel cletes While I feign happiness So pause time Because my words for her are unheard and few A chance is all I'd ask of her to show both my love and dedication are true And yet she stands in fear of not losing me But of getting in the deep end of the pool And thus lies the complex irony And why in life I play the fool For I am the love of her life that has been there And in heartbreak or joy, I'm all in Yet because of fear I stay a friend Ending where love should begin
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Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 9:38 AM UTC
Just Friends ******
She tells me of the loves she's found She tells of the loves she's lost And I linger to fix her broken wings At, I wonder, what cost So that she might go out with confidence To find heartbreak again It matters not, I've not forgot That I am still her friend That I am still her leaning post That I am her safety net Each night she goes whilst I stay And each day she pours her regrets Into my brain, Into my soul So I might empathize And I sit there stroking her hair And what she doesn't realize Is that I know her favorite color is yellow That her favorite song is "Almost Lover" That she went through a pregnancy scare And a fight with her dad from which she'll never recover That she giggles without fail whenever someone say "flabberghasted" And I know that she's had only five boyfriends None of which that have lasted I know she sings inside the shower Even though she may deny it I know she snores and drools on her pillow And that she prays someday Krispy Kreme doughnuts will come diet I know that she cries whenever she thinks too much That she looks forward to marriage The feeling of her husband's touch And someday a baby in a carriage And I know more than most about this girl The one with her head on my lap The one who's silent every time she cries Yet is snorting every time she laughs But here I sit with her alone Barred from going any farther than friend The girl whose afraid to lose me Who torments me without end The one who hinders my love for her And therefore invokes my selfishness Running on my brain in steel cletes While I feign happiness So pause time Because my words for her are unheard and few A chance is all I'd ask of her to show both my love and dedication are true And yet she stands in fear of not losing me But of getting in the deep end of the pool And thus lies the complex irony And why in life I play the fool For I am the love of her life that has been there And in heartbreak or joy, I'm all in Yet because of fear I stay a friend Ending where love should begin
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You are not here, It is a different thing. You are not here, It is a separate thing. Because I can have your manifestation, And I can have them anytime, Enjoying Krispy Kreme Doughnuts. You do not love me, It is a strange thing. Nor do I love you, It is a sad thing. But my feelings are not dead like yours, And I can revive them anytime, Eating Krispy Kreme Doughnuts.
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Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 3:34 AM UTC
Doughnuts Again
Fay was waiting for me at the top of Meadow Row I was on my way home from school -I'd walked home as I’d spent my fare money on doughnuts that morning- she looked agitated her blonde hair was in two ponytails her eyes looked red as if she'd been crying thought I’d missed your bus she said no I walked I said what's up? she took my hand and we walked down Meadow Row walking past the bomb sites and the ruins of other houses   I’ve lost my rosary she said I can't find it what's a rosary? I asked a crucifix with beads I showed you the other week O that bead thing so what's the problem? can't you buy another? it was my grandmother's old one well buy her another one I said I can't she died last year well she won't need it then will she I said she stopped but Daddy will want to know why I lost it and then he'll go off the deep end   and I know he'll punish me and it wasn't my fault she began to cry and I didn't know what to say or do where do you keep it? I asked in my coat pocket so it's handy if I want to use it and it's not there now? she shook her head and put her hand in the pocket of her coat is that the coat you always wear? she nodded what about Sundays? she looked at me today's Monday maybe you left it in your coat you wear on Sundays I said she looked at me with reddened eyes of course I forgot it must be in my Sunday coat from yesterday let's go find out I said but what if Daddy's there? so what? I said he doesn't like me being with you because you're not a Catholic I’ll wait outside on the balcony if he is I said so we walked up Meadow row and crossed over Rockingham Street and up the slope and into the Square and along to the flats and up the concrete staircase to her parent's flat which was above where I lived she knocked and her mother let her in and I stood on the balcony looking into the Square after 5 minutes or so she opened the door smiling and said it was in my Sunday coat all the time and she kissed my cheek I knew then I’d not wash that area of my face the whole week.
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May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 4:23 AM UTC
FAY'S MISPLACED ROSARY 1960
Fay was waiting for me at the top of Meadow Row I was on my way home from school -I'd walked home as I’d spent my fare money on doughnuts that morning- she looked agitated her blonde hair was in two ponytails her eyes looked red as if she'd been crying thought I’d missed your bus she said no I walked I said what's up? she took my hand and we walked down Meadow Row walking past the bomb sites and the ruins of other houses   I’ve lost my rosary she said I can't find it what's a rosary? I asked a crucifix with beads I showed you the other week O that bead thing so what's the problem? can't you buy another? it was my grandmother's old one well buy her another one I said I can't she died last year well she won't need it then will she I said she stopped but Daddy will want to know why I lost it and then he'll go off the deep end   and I know he'll punish me and it wasn't my fault she began to cry and I didn't know what to say or do where do you keep it? I asked in my coat pocket so it's handy if I want to use it and it's not there now? she shook her head and put her hand in the pocket of her coat is that the coat you always wear? she nodded what about Sundays? she looked at me today's Monday maybe you left it in your coat you wear on Sundays I said she looked at me with reddened eyes of course I forgot it must be in my Sunday coat from yesterday let's go find out I said but what if Daddy's there? so what? I said he doesn't like me being with you because you're not a Catholic I’ll wait outside on the balcony if he is I said so we walked up Meadow row and crossed over Rockingham Street and up the slope and into the Square and along to the flats and up the concrete staircase to her parent's flat which was above where I lived she knocked and her mother let her in and I stood on the balcony looking into the Square after 5 minutes or so she opened the door smiling and said it was in my Sunday coat all the time and she kissed my cheek I knew then I’d not wash that area of my face the whole week.
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Golden Retriever puppy kisses Doughnuts with hot chocolate Making love in a field of flowers A found twenty in an old pair of jeans A hug from a beautiful stranger for no reason at all Life is euphoria occasionally, celebrate the treasures
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Sep 23, 2013
Sep 23, 2013 at 10:11 PM UTC
Celebrate the Treasures
My eyes only focus on surroundings, though you’re ten inches away   Looking into my eyes, I can’t focus. My speech is fumbled. It takes forever. Can you see? Waiting.  You’re looking at me as my body is filling with concrete. My thoughts are unclear, Hide the tenseness with laughter. It okay if there is laughter. I can see myself where I want to be free. I am wrapped in plastic, under my skin, tightening against my flesh. I don’t feel my heartbeat, I don’t feel myself breathing. I feel my joints, I feel myself reacting to connect. I will do anything to get out of this never ending emotional chamber. I want to know you, I know you are talking to me. I don’t know where my soul is. It feels trapped in my bloodstream, locked in my fingernails.   An apathetic wave hits my entire body, the undertow pulls me and I can only feel my ears filling with mumbled conversation.   Paralyzed by my imagination. My reality has pushed me  out of  my well being. Two boxes of doughnuts and cake at the office. Deprived meaning My thoughts are unclear, Hide the tenseness with laughter, its how you’re free.
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Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 6:25 PM UTC
Depersonalization
Sweet lips encrusted in sugar from the hot doughnuts at the steam fair. Baked in the dusty sunshine of an August afternoon in North London. I would roam these streets from childhood into adulthood, Drinking £2,50 wine at bus stops only to get thrown out of the pub for illusionary bathroom shots Our real crime? Being too young. Since then, i have drunk Spanish manzanilla in an old tobacco store room Transformed into a house where wafts of old book smell mingling with the scent of baked terra cotta and lemon trees sweeps down dark corridors revealing hidden gems of traveled souls. Where there are streets that belong to Phoenician women , Arab traders , Christian crusaders and now the Spanish folk All these names we go by , yet still human we stand Up on roof tops, smoking sneaky roll ups to the elegance of storks Building nests on church domes and castle walls Monuments to remind the future Graffiti on the natural landscape , the ruins read " we waz ere" From shores of the Atlantic to shores of the Atlantic Brooklyn rises The night bus to eat pizza alarmed me How were the buses so different ? London's told you where you were New York's Made you suss it out for yourself In the company of a Father i hardly knew and the Mother of my new sibling Child , Who will you become ? Shaped by the contrast of your parents skin , your curled hair yet to emerge from fresh formed follicles Rest easy , This world Ain't so harsh I found God at the bottom of a bowl of noodles Simply sitting there , lazing about as i licked my lips of the residual chillies and sugar I deal in the order of paradoxes Born by the sea only to grow up in the 'so called' luxury of the cities jungle Although, resting now in the moon soaked mountain air , no city can compare, to the fragrance of flowers that bloom and scent only for those who brave the night I used to be afraid of the dark , Now i make love with it.
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Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 3:26 PM UTC
Transitionary phases, with hindsight , become but a twirl in the foxtrot
Sweet lips encrusted in sugar from the hot doughnuts at the steam fair. Baked in the dusty sunshine of an August afternoon in North London. I would roam these streets from childhood into adulthood, Drinking £2,50 wine at bus stops only to get thrown out of the pub for illusionary bathroom shots Our real crime? Being too young. Since then, i have drunk Spanish manzanilla in an old tobacco store room Transformed into a house where wafts of old book smell mingling with the scent of baked terra cotta and lemon trees sweeps down dark corridors revealing hidden gems of traveled souls. Where there are streets that belong to Phoenician women , Arab traders , Christian crusaders and now the Spanish folk All these names we go by , yet still human we stand Up on roof tops, smoking sneaky roll ups to the elegance of storks Building nests on church domes and castle walls Monuments to remind the future Graffiti on the natural landscape , the ruins read " we waz ere" From shores of the Atlantic to shores of the Atlantic Brooklyn rises The night bus to eat pizza alarmed me How were the buses so different ? London's told you where you were New York's Made you suss it out for yourself In the company of a Father i hardly knew and the Mother of my new sibling Child , Who will you become ? Shaped by the contrast of your parents skin , your curled hair yet to emerge from fresh formed follicles Rest easy , This world Ain't so harsh I found God at the bottom of a bowl of noodles Simply sitting there , lazing about as i licked my lips of the residual chillies and sugar I deal in the order of paradoxes Born by the sea only to grow up in the 'so called' luxury of the cities jungle Although, resting now in the moon soaked mountain air , no city can compare, to the fragrance of flowers that bloom and scent only for those who brave the night I used to be afraid of the dark , Now i make love with it.
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