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Mike Hopkins Nov 2011
The Australian Thirteens
(Black)
Your mummy took a beating
Your daddy's drinking beer
Your brother's lost his eyesight
Your sister's disappeared
The thirteens. Right on

Your cousin’s sniffing petrol
Your Uncle's in the cells
Your buddy's begging money
To spend in the hotel
The thirteens. Right on

And you, you make me shameful
To see the state you're in
I tell you live like we do
But all you do is grin
at
The thirteens. Right on.


The Australian Thirteens
(White)**
Your mother’s hooked on botox
Your daddy’s with the guys
Your sister's anorexic
She fades before your eyes
The Thirteens. Right on

Your daughter is a ******
Your son beats queers for fun
Your priests ****** your children
And you just move them on
The Thirteens. Right on.

You living in that city
And buying all that stuff
And still you look unhappy
Cos you'll never have enough
No
The thirteens. Right on.
©Mike Hopkins 2011
Blog: mistakenforarealpoet.wordpress.com
Culpoetry Nov 2013
The week beginning
The seventh of the tenth
Twenty thirteens from my final death

Wings clipped now, time is done
Madness has manifest
straight after sweet love

Scouring the undertow
dusky and dusted
I dream of the willow
pure yet untrusted

I envision a broken halo
charred, shattered and rusted;
utterly finished, diminshed
as if we have never lived

All this respect we had claimed and craved
Caught our fire and went up in frames of flames

And the lie that called us all to see
Eye to eye has fallen three degrees

So if you hear the sound of my voice again,
then know I'm three thirteens, awaiting death
Keenan Martin Mar 2010
A pop singer never hits the note,
But still makes a hit.
Your feet belongs in a ten,
But you try to make the thirteens fit.
We tend to hide behind the strong,
But we feel courageous.
On the surface we must stop hiding,
Learn your place, look Life in its face.

Our classification has moved to the point,
That either we're ****** or kings, ******* or queens.
In my mind I don't believe it,
I think this is their way of pulling strings.
Have you ever wondered why liquor is on every corner?
They want us to drink to our grave.
We need to break the chains inside our very mind,
Because little do we know we're living as mental slaves.

Life is a moment, but the soul is eternal,
So no need to ask why,
We walk telling no truth,
Because we live the truest lie.
I haven't been able to think about you without crying
To look at your picture on my wall was too painful
It may have been better if you had died, like Dominick

But you didn't, no you still exist
Strong and persistant in my memory and alive and well somewhere else
I wonder if you meant all those hurtful words you said

I saw pictures of you today happy and smiling
Did I really make your life a sad dark hell?
Or is that just what you're telling yourself

Is that just your sad pathetic excuse
For giving yourself a reason to cut me loose
Because we were drifting a part so slowly

You were the only person who knew me that well
To know the little words that would **** me
So you made sure to say them, knew what insults to spew

I'm starting to think you wanted me to hate you
You told me not to cry, but you knew I would
I'm telling myself all the things you knew I would

That i'm a horrible person, I don't deserve to be loved
That all of my efforts were wasted, never enough
But I hope you know, I'm not the only one I blame

I'm not dense enough to think friendships are one way
You could've made an effort, you could've made a step
Hell there are so many different things you even could've just said

Let me know where we were headed, cause I didn't even know
But instead you left me here all alone
Justifying your actions with the things that killed me

Along with stupid other petty things
You said you feel "I'm adjusting just fine"
Then suggested you'll live your life, and I'll live mine

Whatever happened to the days, for thirteens years
Where we were like family through blood sweat and tears
Your mom isn't there for me like another mom anymore

All of your selfish (or was it selfless) motives closed that door
I keep blaming myself, I rant and then I blame you
I go down the long list of all the stupid reasons why our firendship is through

And what it boils down to, is we bit off more then we could chew
This distance was too much for us it tore us both apart
You were just the stronger one, for finally freeing your heart
Paul Hardwick Jul 2013
IS it Me?
or just my soul
that needs this space
so as a man i can feel whole.

Is it just me?
or just what i am told
that now I need this space.

I can not sleep
and in the thirteens years never have
slept the time of time.

Cardinal number
of a man getting old
my blood boils down, I am man getting old.

Temperature taken out
please woman do not organize my soul
for I am just this man.

And I see the rain fall
now i think did I put those plants out
woman do not try to take hold of me.

And if you find this,
as a man that can no loger think of himself
then woman, whom is in the wrong?
Sorry woman, but i had to be said, woman you stop me from growing.  LOVE Paul :-)
Ava Weiland Jul 2020
Once closing the light
they tell us to find our fire in July
I said I was crazy
He said she was crazy
To step into something
that would ******* out "crazy" too
is something I would not do.

We have everything though
but not everything
or I would have stayed with him
brown eyes, white smile
said it would take me a while
and by "a while" I meant "never".

The time has come to close certain doors
To open my windows instead
Open my walls and extend the floors
There is no space for anybody else here
We fill it up so beautifully
When it rains we make patterns on the floor
When the eggs are swollen we crack them
Stack a heaping plate of crepes and eat them all ourselves.

There are no elevens here
only thirteens that spit at you from every corner
There are no apologies here
but there is forgiveness under every table
if you're willing to flip them over
There are no gardens here
but life sprouts its way through every crack
Trunks rise from the floor like silent thunder
Flowers bloom on the ceiling and in the corners
and on the tables.

We make messes here,
clean only on the new moon
or when the mood strikes
We plant poison poppies by the front door
and sweet lilacs by the back
We take everything and give nothing back.
We take everything and give nothing back.

We swing unshaved legs over the sides
of an enormous stained white tub
We dance without shoes or want of music
We squat to greet the cats that slink around books
and perch by candles
We find birds to sit on our shoulders
and sew wings out of silk.

— The End —