Turn. Tune. Your Station!

I look a turn,

into a dark spooky lane,

it was empty it thought,

but i could hear muffled voices.

Let me say it!

A woman was probably experiencing marital rape,

A guy was being cuffed for gay sex,

A kid was caught wandering near the burger shop,

Hungry kids were caught for stealing food.

She always told me its beauty we capture,

but today i don’t have legs to run like always,

but I have decided to take a turn,

into the spooky lane; where once was brightly colored bars,

and big breasted strippers. Marijuana and Alcohol,

And poets stuck in the wedges,

dropping words like barfing kids. In all its innocence we ignore!
We write to write to write.To write.

Life was bliss when i could wear red colored shades and sit on sunny beaches,

admiring retro-lighthouses and cliche waves and sunsets,

I scribble on the paper; so that a few bloggers might read.


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