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Stephanie Irvin Aug 2013
Ground littered
with Newport butts
Laceless sneakers
Last nights beer
Early morning
Only me
White skin
They stare.

I ride along the bus route
The weight shifts as people climb on
The smell of half burnt cigarettes
Of sweat and fried food
I struggle to keep my lips together
I hold on to my seat; knuckles white
As I look for alleyways to sleep
If I could leap out of my life.
Mo Issa Dec 2016
His hands stretched out as if in the
Shavasana pose, only he was
Wearing his old jeans, chequered shirt
Black laceless converse shoes
His head on the lush green grass
With Hesse’s Siddartha in his left hand
and a magical airbrush in his right hand
He gazed at the cloudless blue sky
Like an artist in front of a canvas
he drew the people he wanted in it,
The boy with the inquisitive big brown eyes
The girl at the bus stop carrying a tote bag
the things he wanted to do,
Climb the highest mountain peak
Do the tango in Buenos Aires
Vagabond across South America
the sunsets and the full moons he wanted to see
the reasons he was willing to suffer for
the smiles he wanted to have.
A masterpiece in the making
the outline took no more than a few minutes
but the finished piece took a lifetime to create.
Fridge Jul 2016
I shall call you,
Miss Loneliness,
In your laceless little dress,
You; glorified red mess,
Leave soon before I obsess,
Pulled me into an abyss,
But you missed,
I shan't miss you,
Or will I?
Adieu
Part 2 of 9.

Exalt - to hold in high regard
Girl in black masquerade gown with books balanced on head

One high-heeled foot on drum

The other

A laceless sneaker


Long-stemmed glass of wine in right hand

Slim bottle of Summum ***** in left


Background dissonance


Vintage grey vehicle with red interior

PYT seated in the back

Tatted up bad boy in front seat

Bearded man in tailored blue suit

Hand draped over driver's seat door


Red carpet rolled out to the entrance of a dive bar

that leads into a mansion

Eyes Wide Shut
C J Baxter Jul 2014
How many men make or brake the barriers?
How many more move forward as the carriers
of the message? The presage of the black dark future.
When society is wounded who'll be dressing the sutures?  

Those in suits blur truth across the canvas,
Then paint over it with blood from the youth and the savages.
Ravaging for innocent civilians, to apply the bandages.
While the man in the suit counts the loot as he micro manages.

Feed them Faceless,  Tasteless  food for thought.
Get them Pacing laceless- racing to be caught
red handed, then remanded in custody to rot
in a cell, dwelling on how poorly they fought.  

Not to quick to mention their desire for redemption.
The lesson is learned until it's consumed your whole attention
span, quick make a plan- confessing that you're a bad man
Don't change the fact that you were sweating as you ran man.

Who's this man? Who's lurking in the shadows?
The search narrows- he's found hanging from the gallows.  
This harrows the whole world for a whirlwind minute.
Until the media man has had enough chance to spin it.

"He was a reprehensible, dispensable shell of  human.
His soul had creeped out after years of consuming
peoples fears, then blaring it back into their ears.
He was mole for manics, spreading panic to the assuming"
Fight The Power
Holly W Dec 2012
a battle well fought
is a battle worth losing
for what we once thrived for
is what makes life worth living
you live for a person then what is your life?
a shadow of nothing or a roll of a dice?
a battle well fought
is a battle worth losing
for if you are my all
and my all has been given
I've lived for a person and tried as i might
love is a war, a struggle a fight
If a war has been summoned and we are now soldiers
my daffodil traded for diamonds and roses
innocence garbaged for vanity and sin
then here is my promise my aching surrender
I will walk to you adorned in white
only to hand you my flag, laceless and bright
abandoned soles
floppy dog tongues
yellowed by the sun

limbs of the limbless
sprouting scarecrow
or roadside Nike angel

many miles worn
left to be laceless
twins made orphans

or just one
dusty rubber
where nobody's home
Written: March 2024.
Explanation: A poem written in my own time. Feedback welcome. A link to my Facebook writing page and Instagram page can be found on my HP home page. This poem is inspired by a real life tree of shoes in south Australia.

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