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Sparks, until Sunvalley. (Free verse) by <{Baba^Yaga}>
The Spark's Railroaders,
that's my team.
Where I go to school.
I'm underdeveloped, and anything, but cool.
I have one more period than most of
the other kids, because I have to swim first
thing in the morning.
My grandma tends to wake
me up early with her snoring.
That's okay cuz I love her
man, she's all I fucking got
when both my parents jumped ship
she made sure I didn't rot.
She might smoke all day, and live on the couch.
Have me change her channel, and fix her screw-drivers.
Count out her pills, and be her mailbox retriever.
It's all good, It don't make me slouch.
Plus, I still hook up with the late night crouch.
Out the window to smoke Marlboro reds with the guys,
and throw ice-balls at cars coming home from
the bars. Then we gaze up at stars,
and try to find Mars.
A Crimson glow...
Pulling me,
away.
Sometimes, we go down to the Sanitarium (club house)
to play AD&D.
Our fort in the hills is border-line obscene.
It smells like the nest of a wounded white roc.
All lit up with candles on skulls, and on rocks.
Metallica blares, "Ride the lightning" all day.
We smoke pot, and dream of guitars we might play.
But is it all well? That's the question inside.
A fact of the game is that the fog must subside.
The trailor is gone, but the marks are still there.
The hills are developed, still nobody cares.
"Grandma! Grandma!" My voice goes unheard.
Her Cadillac's gone, along with my bird.
I'm spinning in circles.
My arms stretch extend.
I've been tricked by my mind.
Now a slave to the trends.
Sweet Sharon, is dead,
and now I'm a man.
Missing you nana.
it's all in my head.
I did what I could.
I did all I can.
I did what I had to.
I turned and I ran.
Now,
Crushing top the poppies, pressing
forms sublime, hands run gently over.
Taking sap to save, for a crave I know,
How to forget better than you. <yawners>
How to move on quicker than you. <nodders>
How to turn a mud mask to stone, <Masons>.
And juggle worlds with colonies of algae.
Superimposing a residue for the queen
of my mind, Hedwig, and steel spikes
do no replacement make. To chest hair,
and rhyme. A squeeze to catch your breath.
Then Reno.
Back to poem details
Anonymous | 74.89.229.177 | 9 | April 25, 2011 7:00 PM PDT |
xxx | 68.164.242.151 | 0 | May 24, 2005 2:35 PM PDT |
Anonymous | 147.226.170.219 | 10 | January 20, 2004 2:36 PM PST |
Anonymous | 147.226.164.14 | 10 | December 15, 2003 12:28 PM PST |
Jill Stockinger | 68.165.174.187 | 10 | November 18, 2003 11:36 AM PST |
newagepoet2000 | 68.165.174.187 | 10 | November 17, 2003 6:47 PM PST |
Anonymous | 24.126.113.154 | 10 | June 10, 2003 3:19 PM PDT |
Below lie old votes |
wOrnella Mutiw | 198.81.26.167 | 8 | January 19, 2003 11:03 PM PST |
poetandknowit | 65.101.211.179 | 0 | December 23, 2002 9:54 PM PST |
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god'swife | 209.179.214.60 | 10 | December 11, 2002 12:52 PM PST |
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