Your shoes are getting shabby
over time and the story that has been spun
Do you still remember the drawing paper and brush?
I painted the colors that were dark at the time
Then we drew together
In flowing, abstract strokes
Ahh, I remember so well
The field across from our classroom
15 years old in the drizzle
The first piece of cake you took from my hand
And a book that made us dizzy
We were still so young
With hearts clean and untainted by love
Still pure in the grip of friendship
Will you remember it well?
Two young people now fragile in adulthood
And if I reach out
To just be friends again
At least we won't fall into despair
My body is my temple
Sometimes forget to remove my dirty shoes
~ occasional cleanup in aisle 13
Wordku: 5-7-5 words
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
IF DIRT WERE DOLLAR$...
COULD KNOCK THE DIRT OFF MY BACK...
AND BUY THREE HOU$E$
I know the blame and the shame,
like a dirty picked up dime
forgetting its once shiny place
and a instrument that paves
I'm now the fresh concrete,
you all walk over,
as teens scribble love graffiti,
and ripped of 4 leaf clovers
of innocents once believing....
Gets caught up in the cracks,
kids need to hop and skip over,
to avoid my dire of bad luck.
Make way for the catholic priests
Wolves ushering in all the children
don't slip in the rain on your back
as ignorance doesn't pick up the slack,
I hate the way you engraved our initials
Never ably with purple petals.....
A good thought conceived in the soil of positivity
making its way through shard and slag
finding its way home into the heart.
The slag is cleverly staggered and thickening
filled with thorns and snags and dirty rags
The good thought forced to play pachinko
with a venomous society.
Battered, fanged and chipped
the good thought's ragged journey end
has it found its way into the honey hole
will there be much of anything left.
they said justice
but meant
just us
and here I sit—
a roach in a cage of light,
the hum of the air thick
with bleach and lies.
my skin
was the evidence.
my eyes—guilty.
no rich man ever came
this far south
to die
in a room this cold.
I write with broken pencils
and dream of rain,
the kind that doesn't stop.
It's a dirty little business
And I've never stooped so low
But if I stay here long enough
I'll dig myself a hole
There's trouble all around
And death to be expected
But the tools that I have found
leave's a wound, that's undetected
It'll take time for all to see
What I've done here on this day
'bout the time that they take notice
I'll be far enough away
Now, I have them lying there
Soon, covered up with weeds
But if I want to grow tomatoes
I have to plant these seeds
Here's a more detailed approach
you don't need to be advised or coached
our behaviours
the love language we use
us together is a lovely mood
actively listening
trying to understand
showing concern
just holding hands
a kiss as a reference
understanding her needs
knowing her preference
the act of pursuing
with the intention of affection
being consistent in each
and every direction
nonbelligerency
48 minutes is
2880 seconds
Cryostat to
materials science,
plasma physics,
and reactor design
Terms that describe
Fusion decency
they had argued over the taste of sweetbreads
with her not willing to taste it
.So he said his wife had a different story.
He made mention of both price and referenced it to
the taste of chicken: she'd bite!
"She said I thought the waiters name was
Thymus!" " he said, who is Thymus?"Dolce Bap;
the high level of anticipation, show stopping caliber
The taste of Thymus"
The apartment smelled like smoke
Frail and fleeting
I looked at her
She never ate
Always yelled
I looked at him
He never stayed
Always somber
Curled in a blanket on the floor
Thin and cold
Looking up at the ceiling
A stain on the wall
The window was open
Screaming in the kitchen
Needles on the floor
The carpet dirty
I walked around a little bit
I lay back down
There was no food
There was nothing
.
"I'm not pretty"
yes you are
"The flowers are pretty"
and your feets need
thuh bath daisy
{roll'n hug'n kiss'n}
"Now your back 'needs
thuh bath' Edvard"
i love you too
eve
Peace is a dirty bird
The crossed line is a wire
The messengers have all been shot
The dodos are on fire
***
I remember the days when I'd fall
asleep before hitting the pillow.
Ah, the joy of a sound sleep.
I might not have been at my best
in the morning all things considered.
Day-old makeup very much past its prime.
My eyelashes were caked and looking scraggly,
my lipstick smeared across my cheek and pillow,
eyeshadow streaked clear across my forehead.
Thankfully one good shower made me whole again!
AP: 2nd place 2025
Artists complain they’re forever starving
~ yet prefer wood to roast for carving
Steely Dan Tribute
Rikki please don’t lose that number
I begged and pleaded.
Sorry, but I know you like Peg
better.
But Rikki I thought we were still reelin
in the years.
Sorry, but you’re a real loser, that is
why they call you Deacon Blues.
Ran outside and saw Kid Charlemagne
who was tryin’ to hire someone to
do his dirty work for free.
Sorry Kid I can’t help you but
any Major Dude Will Do
Red clay clings to the heels of the lost,
Drifting through streets where the past still lingers,
A heat that hums like a preacher's pause—
Heavy with memory, thick with regret.
Bourbon pools in the cracked-glass dusk,
As magnolia ghosts whisper through fences,
Their petals wilting in the weight of time.
The train wails lonely across the river,
Carrying ghosts and gamblers alike,
Their debts unpaid, their voices drowned
Beneath the hush of cypress shade.
Cicadas chant their dry-lipped hymns,
The neon flickers, the jukebox groans,
A hymn half-drowned in static and smoke—
Somewhere a dog howls at nothing at all.
And the night, thick as molasses, sways.
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