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Forgotten Garden as we wander we find a forgotten garden, lost and abandoned by time. hand in hand we explore, treading lightly through the graveyard. sad stones litter the somber space, broken monuments that once stood tall and full of life; neat trimmed edges now run rampant, wild with nature. sand has crept through the barren roots, bearing itself to the empty sky; once fertile soil has withered and dried, a husk of memory. no fruit shall come of this bare harvest. only fierce weeds remain, feral vines surrounding old flowers that lie still where they died, helpless in their hopelessness. threading gently we tread the scattered path; the broken shells of tForgotten Garden by ~blacktron
The Golden Boys of Summer The Golden Boys of SummerThe Golden Boys of Summer by ~blacktron
soft, supple skin not yet weathered
by the weariness of time and sand
stretches over knotted bodies.
standing tall, bronze statues shine,
still proud, erect, muscular- lovely in the glow of youth.
single minded in their pursuit, they chase
pink ribbons with olympian vigor;
shirtless and immortal, they scoff
at so-called "wisdom" of those who came before.
no patient waiting clouds their eagerness.
life beats fiercely in their chests.
with every pulse victory, with every word fire-
none can stand against such beauty.
with laughter they scorn those whose time has passed
returning baleful glares
Second City Plans "Second City Plans"Second City Plans by ~blacktron
You're leaving tomorrow, but at least we have tonight. What were the chances? An hour ago I was screaming down a sled hill, exhausted from work but worked up for sledding, beer in my hand and snow in my pants. A nothing phone call sent me on a wild goose chase, worried for my brother from another mother (who was fine, silly me) that ended at the fancy dress party house (didn't get invited and wouldn't have gone). Roaming through the drunk quarters seeking information, mission objectives on my mind, you were the last thing I expected. Remember the stunned silence, the sudden awkward shift of perspective and paradigm, of
The Truth I got a phone call todayThe Truth by ~blacktron
it seemed innocent enough, she probably just
wants to check up, or tell me she loves me
she's crying! what's wrong, what
happened, did you have a bad day?
I see . . . no I'm not mad, I'll
call you back later.
grand theft auto splattering
faces with hardwood bats
slicing up hookers and carving up cops
in my ears heavy metal satan shit
souless screams from tormented teens
my room is a warzone my
car a casualty of combat
ventalating walls with my fists i'm
rocky with nothing to fight for
seething marching cigarettes
lighting cigarettes pounding jack
punishing myself the way i want to punish him
c
Sta.sh
no i'm just good
Well, I exaggerate, but that's different. Exaggeration is like lying that you can't get in trouble for.
And who knows, maybe writing all these stories about funny things that happened to me and the people I love will bring me back to writing again, and I can start telling stories I've wanted to tell for a long time now.
Probably not. I think someone left the TV on, and as a result I am powerless to function.
¡Ándale, ándale, ARRIBA!
--
No hay nada mejor que perderse