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Monthly Archives: September 2014

Old man on a park bench;
he’s got nothing to look forward to.
He’s just appreciating the sun
and admiring all the flowers.

Old man on a park bench;
desperately wanting some attention.
He sits on his bench for hours
to come home to an empty house.

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Small towns are so interesting. It’s relaxing, people are genuine, there’s silence. Living in a small town is amazing, especially for people who want to write. Not only do the circumstances allow you to sit down and think without being disturbed, but a small town is also an amazing place to get inspiration from. There’s always some interesting characters around. There’s stories hovering in the air. People are dying to tell you stuff. Buildings are usually humble. Restaurants and bars are usually visited by the same people over and over again. Old men sit on their doorsteps and smile at everyone they see. Everyone knows each other. It’s absolutely wonderful.

That game show was on again yesterday,
The game show host’s judging eyes
have burned themselves into
my tv-screen.
His eloquence forced in my ears.
His jokes shoved into my mouth.
His amazing fashion sense slaps me in the face.
His white teeth stab me.
The way his audience cheers
and claps so wildly for him
tortures me.

Me and my friends were discussing the show today.
“I was in tears” said my best friend.
We want more.
We need it more than him.
How we all love that kind game show host.

In the very nick of time,
my love was sublime.
And my friends were all there,
and for once they didn’t care
about the way that I dressed
or the words that I’ve Pressed.
In the very nick of time,
critics stopped discussing my climb
and people weren’t artificial
and my work wasn’t unofficial.
People felt like a hug.
I didn’t need any drug.
And in the very nick of time,
because I felt in my prime,
I decided to stay,
now here I die away.
I’m a sitting duck,
I ran out of luck.
It’s all boiling over
and I will kill every clover.
In the very nick of time,
every man commits a crime.
And all the rivers run dry,
no friend will reply.
Don’t make my mistakes,
or you’ll wind up playing ducks and drakes.
Please, in the very nick of time,
don’t throw away your last dime.
Just get it over with,
Just become a mister Smith.