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Full Metal Ali by zphoenixdownz Full Metal Ali :iconzphoenixdownz:zphoenixdownz 1 0
Literature
regret, egret. Egress.
I drowned what was left of my innocence
for you, like a deranged mother's children.
You said, "Thanks for the change." Then,
the door slid right and open, and you walked
away from the store of my convenient love.
Your face lit up with a pretty sneer, turning
quiet and quickly like your courageous heels.
Anyway, I was waiting to watch your ass,
again, slither out into the shimmering sun.
The last time lasts forever in my mind,
each wriggling half-infinite loop of lust
hurts as it helps a man regress and dream
of, oh, so much regret, egret.  Egress.
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:iconzphoenixdownz:zphoenixdownz 1 1
Literature
no hard feelings
"no hard feelings," she said
so i called her a stupid bitch
and told her to date somebody rich
she just got mad and told me "fuck off"
i told her to get in the car and
let me give her one last ride home
months later, i bought her records & cigs
i told her i wish we could listen to them
and smoke until one of us died or went crazy
i think she misunderstood that as a threat
she doesn't respond to my text messages
even the ones where i beg her for meaning
like when i tell her everyone asks about it:
    disappointed/confused children of friends,    
    the mentally handicapped local celebrity,
    the indian family that runs the 7-Eleven,
    the cashier at our favorite mexican joint,
     
there are no soft feelings for me
there never have been
that's why she fell in love with me
that's what i tell myself
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:iconzphoenixdownz:zphoenixdownz 0 1
Literature
old haunts
i drag my heart around this half-dead town
searching for the beat and wearing out
anyone who will still talk to me
because i forget names and faces
i lose track of time and places
while drink is the only key to sleep
if i try to get a good night's rest and
pray to the stars for dreamless peace
i wake up shaking at 3am
your shadow stirring in my cold bed
the ghost of your touch calling out my
horror of hands on your hips belonging to
bastards with names sticky on your lips
quickly, sharply, repeating, breathing
i drag my heart half-dead around this town
blurry stop signs and red lights recalled
we probably shouldn't speak again
the sunrise is scantily sobering memories
smiling photos that forgive without forgetting
the blinding distance between the two
i need to find a cure for the potions
i've been curing this loneliness with
like my rant when you asked casual:
"how are you doing?" a speakeasy password
all the crazy options are in the vending machine
i just refuse to choose anything bu
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:iconzphoenixdownz:zphoenixdownz 0 0
Literature
harrisonburger
my heart lies in a mountain town
somewhere between maryland and tennessee
wrapped in the music of a basement show
resting at the bottom of a cold crisp beer
my heart is in my hands keeping time
meeting, repeating, and cracking with joy
pounding at the ceiling so it becomes a drum
sounding out the revelry of this hoarse and sweaty love
my heart is in the tongues of this rowdy midnight family
singing their surrender to a bearded melody man
who keeps giving us the reasons to carry on 'til dawn
or at least until the cops come to cut us down
my heart lies in a mountain town
somewhere between five at night and morn
glowing with coffee and the sweet delirium
of knowing i'll come back again even if i have to go
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:iconzphoenixdownz:zphoenixdownz 1 1
Literature
you aren't what you love
assuming it's true that
"you are what you love,
and not what loves you back ..."
like jenny lewis croons
then,
i'm the band i saw in richmond
as i huddled in a doorway
i'm the handful of the faithful
who sought them out in the rain
i am the monument we made there
when the venue caved
on a sidewalk in the dark,
i am america and rock'n'roll
i am the tiny bass amp
cranked as high as it could go
i am a pair of tom-toms
where a drum kit wouldn't do
i am the absence
of an electric guitar solo
                                       to its crescendo
             the song climbs  -a-long explosion
and as        before a sing
shuddering
The Voice didn't throw His head back
didn't cry out to
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:iconzphoenixdownz:zphoenixdownz 4 2
Corrupt history,
elude memory,
flickering joy
in the fire of
fearfulness,
remain just
                              beyond
reach for what's left eternally.

Comments


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:iconpoetrymann:
Poetrymann Featured By Owner Oct 31, 2014  Professional Writer
A big thank-you for faving my work!
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:iconpoetryod:
PoetryOD Featured By Owner Oct 23, 2014
Thanks for the fave :]
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:iconscheherazades:
scheherazades Featured By Owner Oct 22, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
thanks for the fave~
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:iconmustlovelaura:
mustlovelaura Featured By Owner Oct 22, 2014  Hobbyist
Hi!
Thanks for watching me (:
Have an awesome day!
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:iconmilksop:
milksop Featured By Owner May 28, 2014
hey man!
Reply
:iconsuckerforsunrises:
suckerforsunrises Featured By Owner Feb 3, 2013
thank you for the watch :)
Reply
:iconmustermp:
mustermp Featured By Owner Sep 16, 2008
very good stuff.

glad we share a love of "children of men," if you haven't already, read the book by P.D. James. it's a bit slow moving and significantly different from the film, but obviously has much more depth. maybe a bit chauvenistic... i was suprised to discover that P.D. James is a woman.

i do think the film was a brilliant work in its own right... can't say that about many film adaptations.

and of course, bukowski is amazing.

the garble comment below is freakin me out though; one garbles balls, right?
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