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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: sad blue opening linesdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: wav
    Elite Ratio:    5.51 - 1/2/1
    Words: 355
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 520
    Average Vote:    No vote yet.
    Bytes: 2381



    Description:
       i went to a smoky place where people gulp and exhale


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotssad blue opening linesdots
    -------------------------------------------


    Sad blue
    Burboun bottom
    Smoke haunts the crowd
    No aroma
    Unpinnable mood

    Some for me
    Brrod
    There is always space
    Beside the lonely ones
    Who till the all hours
    Has not found a date

    Hi
    Yes
    Her glass is three quarter full
    She is young still
    But some just want to burn
    They do not want to live more
    They want love and shelter
    To beinside and never outdoors return

    The froth does not simmer
    The opera beginns
    I slowly unmask
    My name is so
    She stripps with questions
    What do you do?
    Its always funny when asked that question
    A code a preferce

    What ever it is its over
    Her eyes glisten
    She has been touched
    But not smitten
    She is still young
    I need not her have a sip
    She hold the pint glass
    Made for the larger drink

    U
    I study she replies
    She wants me to know
    She wants her top button undone to breathe
    But let me do the talking
    I am on burbon
    My smoke is violet

    Your alone, youralone
    I have a anchor heart
    The is falling downbelow
    Below the sky
    Below the sweeping tyde
    Below the drowing point
    Below the point we we float
    And deeper and deeper and deeper
    Who knows
    How far the bottom goes.

    Aye aye captain
    We'll remain
    What is ur name again?
    Crunchccchhhhhhh
    Sigulp
    Mmmmmmmmmmmm

    And so the conversation rolled
    The table is in the middle of the corrido
    We had eacother
    And not yet the place to go

    The quarter bottle rum is like a anchor
    Heavy
    Falls down quickly
    Then looss gravity and sinks
    Like a corpse
    And its slow to raise
    Pull up in links and one chain
    Her glass now is thin at the bottom
    Like a sand beach on sunset

    The foam
    The foam
    The ebb
    Captain ,
    A day to set sail yet

    My home drifts
    My home floats on a voking raft
    Burbon quick down will not light the fire
    She is alright

    Her story---
    to continew




    Submitted on 2014-10-12 18:21:07     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

    1: >_<
    2: I dunno...
    3: meh!
    4: Pretty cool
    5: Wow!




    ||| Comments |||
      And you don't write more often because...?
    | Posted on 2014-11-26 00:00:00 | by MyPeriodical | [ Reply to This ]
      I so enjoyed this excursion into the metaphysical extremities of humanoid contiguity. I may be a little bit inebriated but I believe I still see clearly the lack of mask on the veil. Can we really claim to be the things we can envision we have to give. Nonetheless on the anchor pin tachometer gone plowshare I like to bottle of rum think we afford her that sandy beach at sunset. That her footprints might express the photic resilience of her roots while her spirit climbs to new heights of enigmatism.

    Bruce
    | Posted on 2014-10-12 00:00:00 | by monad | [ Reply to This ]


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