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AA May 2021
When fear is coming out of the unknown
And the dream are the only places you know

When the day becomes the nightmare
and even the air becomes so rare  

The streets I've walked down a thousand times, become unknown
My neighbourhood, my childhood street, feels like a ghowsttown

The faces I long to see, never show
The familiarity becomes strange, when only eyes are shown

Heres to the endless working powers
And the time that flies by whilst we are standing still

The hope becomes stuck in the past
Everything that is going on seems to have forever to last

Time that only comes by once,
Weve been robbed; our years and months

Our youthfull dreams on stand-by, we can't fulfill
The whole world is holding still

A bump into strangers we long for
A better future we hope for

But time seems to take its time
And its shape keeps changing, like we do with this time
How corona has affected us, and the young in the gap year. How society changed during a night, and we too changed.
JP Goss Jan 2015
Their eyes did the judicious scan down to our shoes,
Muddied silence gave us away,
Cartographers of the naughty ditch we huddled in for warmth
Alight go the zip-lock bags are knuckles giggled in
Pulling the drug like creativity,
Often enough to it portraiture;
Spacily, we followed their eyes, lay flaccid fixéd
To there, they stay, when precautions cross and made
Punitive pleasures of the proxies, and all.

Rest assured, we did not care.

Blush for the dervishes, aslant, a chin
Ravaging to the eye, a glance, a smile,
Hoping a spin, awry a touch is enough to motion the room
Sheepish, onto the other,
From there at poles and solemn way: yearning.
Sticky lips, servile mementos
Wishing to be the real thing, palms
Inexorable ones, warmly tie loose ends of the world
Together, sharing as some do the spectator’s space
So twain between him and the moon: mind, body, soul
A coupling of felicitous breadth
And her come-hither stare, clung to lusting silence
Dim, in throes of mere taboo, they stay
Safely, that personal place, the jeers of teenaged love
They buried under blankets to escape.

Rest assured, they did not care.

“Replay, diligently, the last song and keep,” she said,
“Your sarcasms to yourself. I lived it before
Before, oh, it fell all into place; the fiction of photos
Will not keep food in my mouth,
Turned down in nostalgia—to be birthed
Is first in the long thread of loses,
Doled out in tips, the ringed coffee, holding each other together
While I move between tables too eagerly,
Unwelcomed contentment
Wears the dancer’s shoes mockingly
A still-life, still life just gets it, the sad times
Are written, my still life has bills to pay
Arranged like puerile bursts, blossomed hearts
Wanting to pull you through the hole in the earth
And show you the center/poetry buried in still
Lifeless end-times we gave up for access
To green roads of experience and all their contradiction;
The rest was all just small talk.”

Rest assured, she did not care.

Her and I wept away from the palpable, at feelings
Knowledge of solutions to pathos, Love begs itself
Remediation, wrong at every turn, swiftly
Excising its possessions:
Do you love me, or is it ought?
Do I love you or merely the thought?
Long, is it, to have or be—
An aspect of a thousand chattering sounds
Plentitude of voices harken answers we
Bear not to hear, but form in the absence
Bliss, enscribed on parchment, out lovely whole
Complementing our moon,
Bringer of the yeasts of child, of its own siege
Full of what we’ve only given room.
I say, recourse for our maddened state, what we promise
In rhinestones, bands us together, in too small a space,
Too short a time, is that of theft and thing—
Undo, undone the marks the sane voices’ command
We, thus, are to be lectured, tongue-in-cheek
The portmanteaus of proper affection, bed-pleasures: individuality,
Its arithmetic and the modals virile, my destiny divisible
Or walk divided, infinitely one,
Autoerotically in praise of my bottled ***, given to all,
Shared with none, taughtfull-wellknown
A love may never love but itself
If it has choice between—it chooses self,
Indulge, indulge the unlovely ecstasies sure
All lessons lead to conclusion, different in their by-ways
Restlessly falling short of dreams, for the fallen fruits
And sour with despair.

Rest assured, we did not care.
Vadim Bravo May 2010
When loneliness became an ugly thing
Serentiy is not enough,
And as you walk the trail of tears
You find yourself.

You wish to find a wellknown face
Among the faces that you see,
And now you're sorry that you thought
Once, just like me.

No more you wish to be alone,
You pray for company,
You search your phone book, for one name
That still remembers you.

And now you're sorry you have burned
The bridges to your friends,
You wish to try just one more time,
But no one gives a ****.
Vadim Bravo 2002
kfaye Jun 14
everlasting.the
wellknown mystery at the
door

again

— The End —