Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
  Sep 2017 Randall Walker
Victoria Laws
I collect memories
Distill them to the letter
And barrel them for aging
Only to later get drunk
Off last life's nostalgia...

My family;
The sweet taste of white wine
I swirl their image around my head
And sip on it every now and then

My friends;
Shots of fireball
Shockingly spicy, yet sickeningly sweet
The liquid trickles down my throat.
Cuddly warmth

My love;
White girl wasted off your rosé
The color reminiscent of the flush of my cheeks,
As bubbly as my disposition
A mix of two "goods" that make a "great".
I can't wait to taste you again
  Sep 2017 Randall Walker
anon
his eyes held tales i never had known
of worlds and ideas, creatures and such
i hadn’t pondered since i had grown
why did getting older come in that rush?

after looking in his storied eye
i’ll never regret saying hi

the first time we talked
it felt so perfect, so easy, so simple
the road of friendship we together walked
there was i greeted with his happy dimple

after looking in his storied eye
i’ll never regret saying hi

with trust and trust we soon grew
his wise young mind greeted mine
he trusted me with what was hard to construe
a world filled with all that would common shine

after looking in his storied eye
i’ll never regret saying hi

fairies, giants, ogres, even glowing bright flowers
all found in his world awaited me
smiles greeted me in droves and showers
their excitement and mine gave the boy great glee

after looking in his storied eye
i'll never regret saying hi

he brought me there whenever i’d wish
and guided me towards his favorite things
during which conversations would to me switch
for he said my voice gave him wings

after looking in his storied eye
i’ll never regret saying hi

there i was, his only hope
and in a way he was mine
our tie was tough like rope
and our conversations aged like wine

after looking in his storied eye
i’ll never regret saying hi

it was my fault that darkened day
i let myself forget his worrying head
i let him away from me stray
now due to me, a friend is dead

i’m sure after looking in my boring eye
the dead magic man wished i’d never said hi
  Sep 2017 Randall Walker
Nat Lipstadt
which of your thousands of poems do you love best?

*that's like asking which of my children I love the best...

all of them were necessary, all of them were important...

some, more than others,
necessary, important...

but all of them were, are and will be
my children...
9/20~9/21/l7 n.m.l.
a gift to me from Twyla Tharp, choreographer extraordinaire
Randall Walker Sep 2017
A leaf is a leaf,
A door is a door,
I know I make no sense,
But you know what I mean.

These paradoxes blossom,
Bringing Infinite trim,
I'm 'yielding', I'm 'healing',
But the light only dims.
The darkness now light,
For each pore I fight,
My sight's insight in sight.

However,
I see
No heights
To which I can land.

Our reality (as we know it)
Is just for show,
Perhaps this reality, just my reality,

That's all we know.

If more is found,
We're found not to be,
Nulled replicants of nothing,
Destined to the void, to be.
The place where God lies dead,
And His expired creations go,
Stowed at His hands and feet.





Note:
Dinosaurs, Dragons, and hulk there included,
The illusion I alluded to is food for the fallen.
But hey,
These lines above have no meaning, am I right?
No bearing on life,
The same way my head has no hair.
Though,
'Hush,' I say to the breeze blowing through it,
I swear
I feel
a tickle there.
Randall Walker Sep 2017
Sleepy willows,
Termite-hollowed,
Fall on down
In the forest air.

There they lay,
There they lie,
A stagnant existence
Full of unspoken sighs.

Mud-bathed,
Once up high,
Servant to the season’s shifts,
Even they must die.

In dying bring life
In life more death,
Respiration receiving,
Their last relieving breath.
This theme and motif
Have been done
And done before.

So you get a kind of an encore,
The day's labeled lazy,
My mind's hampered, hazy,
But I'll pick these dead leaves up,
Off this sun-patched floor.
Next page