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Sarah Coulston Jul 2014
The brush is still in the garage
on the cold, cement floor
beside the empty tin of paint,
its sides eternally dripping
with a dried, buttercup hue.

The walls which we smothered with color
are faded, now riddled with children’s earthy hand-prints
after a day in the mud. A mess to us,
the results of battles, safaris,
and space travels to them.

I could paint over the marks,
start over fresh and show off to friends.
But I think I’ll let it be.
No longer the bright yellow of a sun trapped in a painting,
these four walls have still brightened many days.

There has been roaring laughter,
divided by a few screaming matches
that have made the dog whimper.
This room has seen much of our lives,
and life cannot be painted over so easily.

So it stays. The color will always be buttercup to me.
Brodie Corrigan Oct 2014
You ever stop and think that this place use to be beautiful
the plants,animals and landscape
I heard from my buddies that this was the place to visit
although i didn't plan on visiting in a uniform holding a rifle
I've seen the postcards of this place and man,
it was gorgeous
it was before the colonization
the expansion
the industrialization
the pollution
conflict
invasion
war.
I wanted to come here to glide over the mountains
not doing CAP in an BlackHawk
I wanted to relax by the ocean
not doing swimming drills at 5AM
I wanted to go on safaris
Not patrols.
Mmmhmm
Well, you know what they say,
You don't get everything you wan
lorilynn Sep 2010
my world has many colors like the prism;
the blue hues of glistening waters of greece
against the white stucco adobes.
dancing tap shoes of flamencos
while visiting in spain.
autumn hues of russian reds, gold, cobalt, greens, oranges and black co-mingling.
asian tastes of polynesian spices in the philippines.
safaris in africa witnessing the awesomeness
of massive mammals.
sophistication from the streets of champ elysees, sipping cappuccino
and i will have some creme brulee please.
or perhaps go to italy and sit on the spanish steps
with a cup of expresso. i will take along a cannoli
and count the steps.
while back at home reminiscing over a cup of joe
with a friend in tucson arizona.
after exchanging our love for art
i will read my mail from friends afar;
the outback to talk about the love
pocketed in the kangaroo’s pouch and discover
new zealand, the unfamiliar territory.
we share our secrets who have been there.
reading beautiful poetry like never before.
all the while being reminded
i have been blessed by the HOLY ONE.
you see my friends, my world has forever changed
since i have met all of you.
getting up each day having my coffee
welcoming me to another day with my friends
from the east, west, north and south.
upon dusk we say so long, see you soon.~~by lorilynn

copyright*lorilynn 2010
Yenson Jun 2019
The Roman empire has fallen
sadness weeps bitter tears
how the mighty became poor old waif
and the west held their jamboree without ignominy
For once they were carried on shoulders in sedan trains
in pomp and ceremony the masters sought safaris and ruled lions
from Goa to Timbuktu the whiff of toast on marmalade n Darjeeling
jackboots and clipped voices rang in plantations n hymns in churches

The Roman empire has fallen
Tea two anti-depressants please  
Oh no no how have the mighty fallen
unwanted unloved we cry diminished glory
no invites to Continental parties no lovers in Casablanca
the dusky maidens as footstool are Doctors at the corner Surgery
those hunky dark torsos ferrying cocoa to steamers heading Cardiff
are now earning two hundred thousand grand a week and drive Rolls

The Roman empire has fallen
now we just drink Bitter all the time
the mighty s of the universe are now *******
come see the bullies in the school playground playing the Raj
let me show you a place where four in ten cannot spell enterprising
did you know when not in the Tropics some go for weeks un-bathed
shock and awe jealousy n envy is the new black making them so mad
old n young no self respect, no dignity and now only sad mad bullies
People of Romelu Lukaku.....joke...haha....Grow up you cant always have your way, stop being a spoilt self indulgent bullies, its a new world now. Stop blaming others for your mistakes and excesses, stop projecting your neurosis and complexes on others. stop being cowards, grow up and accept the fact there are others who do things better than you, stop your childish jealousy and envy, Bullying is cowardly, cheap, base, uncivilized and it demeans you and confirms that you are just weak and pathetic. There is no justification whatsoever for bullying. Improve yourself instead of resenting those that do.
Vernon Waring May 2016
It blows, and suddenly the pavements are filled
With men and women going everywhere,
But none are going anywhere.

Women in pretty dresses are not going to dances.
Yesterday was long ago,
When tomorrow set shimmery curls in their hair
And summer slipped a diamond on their fingers.

Men in soiled denims are not going on safaris.
Yesterday was long ago,
When adventure held the scent of salt-air
And their names were on the roll-call of ambition.

The whistle is a smokescreen,
And somewhere, on the other side,
Lies the "Open Sesame" of youth.
Brandon Conway Jul 2018
A city is nothing but a menagerie
caging different shades of insanity
dusty streets, concrete tombs, lingerie
costumes shooting up profanity

Here I stand
no shade of dignity
*** of cash in hand
shaded with apathy

Things I do with these creatures
in the concealing night
a spoon and a woman, double feature
finished and feeling contrite

Cross the bridge to leave the zoo
back to my normal life
conscience I must subdue
while I lay down next to my wife

I am sorry
I just miss the thrill
I am sorry
I just miss the feel
I am sorry
I just miss the comforts of the landfill
and the parroting comatose safaris
david mungoshi Jul 2016
reclining upon the wing of a whim
i recall those days of sweet leisure
when you were uniquely a treasure
and i was fully ablaze with pleasure
the sky turned a vivid scarlet
   the wind whispered hot secrets
   and the occasional lull in turmoil
   was like a fresh breath of life

  
resting upon cultivated wishes
i recall those days of dew on the grass
and new blooms opening up to the blue day
  so once again comrade and friend, join me in a reverie
spawned on one of our wild safaris in deepest africa
Third Eye Candy Jul 2018
she lives where the cell phones die without remembering
the tone assigned to a cryptic stream of social Lilliputians
on a list of offenders, and befrienders; all caroling at random
for a stitch of thyme or to barter with banter and allusions.
she sleeps where her bed has fallen in love
with southern exposure; but openly flirts with an eastern sky
boiling over with morningstar and brindle night .
her thread count...
an imaginary number
between sleep and a full moon…
and her pillows have embroidered her silhouette
as she takes slumber to meet the parents of her proclivities
that have ever held sway over all of her charms.
how her forks and knives pay conjugal visits to spoons
To the clank elegance of her signature
explaining the vacancy she hordes without joy.
armed with only a loaded pun
in the barrel of her ***…. and a thousand safaris
beyond game. where a woman can breathe without pretending
the pink flamingos are Rodin on Ritalin
she can howl in her own language without poppies.
she lives in that house on the hill
that wasn’t there yesterday.
and the paper boys  
all want to
be men.

so oleander.
Michael Marchese Jul 2017
Don't run from the darkness
Or hide from the light
Feel the wind in your hair
Like an eagle in flight
Hear the streams serenade you
With rivers of force
Go get lost in the jungle
Then chart a new course
Through the pages of time
Through the infinite void
A celestial God
In the shell of a droid
As you anthropomorph
Into going bananas
Embark on safaris
Of conscious savannas
So give us a roar
Young lion, with pride
Your spirit is taking
A wildebeest ride
A stampede in each stride
You step into unknowns
Of intelligent life forms
At home in their zones
Stoking firestorm surges
And blastin' the tunes
An explosion of colors
And sweet sonic blooms
To share in the moments
Of one with the earth
The umbilical cord
That was severed at birth
And now reconnecting
With wireless friends
To sentient shut down
Micro-processing trends
With a macro perspective
On worlds of deception
To scale heaven's size
To the peak of perfection
DEEP DESIRES

Deeply desire I, a surrounding, clean, very green n serene, with scented n colourful flowers, I mean

Imagine roads n railway lines on both sides,  loaded with fruit n flower trees! That's a deeply desired scene !

In the name of development, moving away we are from nature; only concrete jungles all around are seen

Climatic changes n water shortages result, sea levels are dangerously rising, and few to safaris have ever been.

Oxygen levels reducing are; poisonous gases our children harm; need they, an environment clean.

Rain harvesting, if done n artificial lakes created are for our generation future; to them a lot it will mean.

If cotton n jute grown n used is; n reduction in the use of plastics n wood promoted, eco-changes will be seen.

Lord, please o please fulfil this deep burning desire of mine; since long burning deep down my heart it has been.

Armin Dutia Motashaw
Julia Masi Sep 18
Lucid dreams arise after hazy
Safaris through tangled vines of
Neurons and synapses in the jungles
Of sleeping gray matter
Searching for the swift and innocent prey
Among the hungry carnivorous beasts

During REM
When nothing is black and white
transgressions provide
The playlist of ominous electronic dance music
Announcing the opening scenes
of today's daily rushes
missteps create nightmares in 3-D
fueled by a steady diet
of content creators spreading division
Endless hours of True Crime
And rerun marathons lusting over the brilliant minds
Of Reid and Alvarez
Until the jarring sound of a DJ’s old school scratch
Our breath grows short
we bolt upright then sink down
eyes in an airtight squint
as the scene changes
A dramatic rescue
Into the wishes we are to shy to visualize
Or speak after daybreak

Julia Masi

— The End —