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laura Jul 2018
America, she bleeds for a full week
fireworks, freedom, long sighs and holy nights
spend days with the couchless and meek
then light one up, sink between in her thick thighs

underage trickery, plastic cards
and daddies to sneak in clubs
lauv on the radio and fake love throbbing hard
forget ancient grudges, clean cars with new suds

party again, launching fire in the sky
avoid the cops and pray salvation
don't come around too soon, twilight and the sea
bug guts on my screen, drinking, repeat until the sun's return
L B Sep 2016
Our houses, spitting-distance close
Feet propped on railing
cold beer with fresh lime
watching robins flung in flocks
to the failing of August

Too close-- Really?
John, on his cell
is fu_king the world again
from his garage
Why not-- squeeze in pool or a dog
Lawn mowers and **** whips tune in to whine
late Friday afternoon 'bout dinner time

Clinking silver, scrapes of plates
Running water for suds
through open windows to the thunk of pots
Doors bang behind on pathway to garbage
or joint in the woods
wafting over all
wordless squeals of delight from autistic child

Meanwhile, the odor of nail polish removes
all doubts of--
--Gawd!
lodging low and toxic
as the sun dissolves orange
in its acetone setting

Kids playing Man Hunt as darkness falls
Leaping hedges, slamming gates
No yards can contain these kinetics
restless legs, furtive minds

Muttering wind chimes
from four different porches
above the drone of highway
a half mile yawns

Pieces of talk
flipping the crickets
over--
Why or who or at what time?

Other-worldly glow from The Mall
dims stars
outlines mountains
brightens the horizon behind

Mosquitoes coming in for a landing
In "The Plot" section of Scranton, all the houses are really close.  Built by  poorer miners, mostly between 1920 and 1950,  it has an old residential feel to it-- nothing like today's sprawling suburbs.  Most of these homes had only four or five rooms, originally with "outdoor plumbing," if you know what I mean.

Oddly this is a very stable neighborhood, isolated somewhat by the Lackawanna River on three sides.  Gossip, of course runs rampant, but people look out for one another.
Stripping away
the pretense
to expose the
naked truth.

Nothing to hide
as the warm water
flows over me.

Washing away
yesterday's mistakes
and disappointments.

Watching as regrets
disappear with the suds
down the drain.

Cleansed of the past.
Ready to start a new day.
Dream vacation
Meant to be
This isn’t no dream
But reality
Fun and suds
Surf and sand
Me and the babe
Holding hands
Sun and mirth
Mai Tais and beer
Living the dream
Me and her
We disappear
Into the sunset
Into the night
So jocular
We never fight
Rather we smooch
Hold each other tight
On this dream vacation
Doin’ just right
acacia Nov 2018
you heard me sitting, singing with gods name flowing from my lips.
stones and daisies, hear my song from north and the south;
blessing the moonlight to give them extra special powers.
days and nights of listening, you begin
to hum my tunes during your showers, during the cleansing and oiling of your feet. while your day-man slipped from your thoughts, my song — it filled your ears.

maybe you needed a way to me;
a way god wouldn’t see, wouldn’t notice.
hidden in plain sight, hidden by the moonlight.
hidden in ******, hidden by your humanness.
yes, it worked! oh, yes, yes, it worked.
i saw you as clear as your skin! my music
seemed to fall down to you as the soapy suds fell from you.
pretending not to acknowledge (me),
i stopped hiding it.
bending over the ledge, with your men out of sight, with my men out of sight, with my god right in view, i ogled at the bareness of your hide.
moistened lips, blood rushing to my extremities and him, if only you could see the blush on my face.
Lilah Apr 2
After Sun washed Sky
Ridding her of all her sorrows,
White, fluffy suds
Were left intentionally on her blue surface
To frame the Sun’s own setting brightness
And set her fiery yellow rays
On everyone’s glum faces
And make them smile
CautiousRain Jan 24
These weighed down bundles
of my tumbled dried insides
collapse into heavy stacks of cotton
linen sheets, tangled;
memories of cold pressed touches
and warm suds wash over me,
while my seams come undone
in my hands.

Why do you think these threads
can be untangled?
I've looked at your patchwork heart
and oh, how I wish mine could be mended like that,
but I hope you can understand,
I've broken many needles in the process
and I'm not sure I can afford to start again.
Sometimes it's hard to let another person take a crack at loving you. Maybe it should be said it's hard to look at yourself and take a crack at loving yourself, again, too.
Arcassin B Feb 14
By Arcassin Burnham

Weeping to nirvana in a broken place,
Feeling every inch of a warm embrace,
My mind is lost into what is you.
Troubling my soul in frame of lust,
How could this be with a sense of trust?
I'm too in love with all you.
tugging and pushing makes the body high,
I know we could be one with the most high,
Your love is like a drug that makes me fly.
Evolved in a place that's so unseen ,
Bloods will mix and create cream,
I'm just as invested as much as you...

Abstract love , so many colors,
Abstract love , so many colors,
God we need you to save us tonight.

/

Keep on treating me right,
Keep on making me smile,
If you do this for me,
I might give you child,
Is it too good to be true?
Over barring for you?
In the night , tasting your saliva ain't real enough for you?
Give me all of your time,
Give your hugs and **** rubs,
Having bath time with you love, got the suds in the tub,
No pressuring you love,
Yet you gotta trust me,
Beautiful like a flying angel or a watering dove,

Love me like you say you do,
And this will work out in your favor.
Girl I would go miles for you,
Taking your hand in this life.
Love me like you say you do,
And this will work out in your favor.
Girl I would go miles for you,
Taking your hand in this life.
©abpoetry2019

https://arcassin.blogspot.com/p/hi-love-thanks-for-*******-me-over-ii.html

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