Sol,ace-Olde Punk/RamJet Poetry

Olde Punk

A Global Divergent Literary Collective

It’s the sol, ace.  Big smiles and warm greetings that feel like beatings.  I know they are happy.  I am happy 4 but not 2.  I feel like Coltrane on the nod.  I love the beginnings.  Fae magic and beautiful garb.  Decorations, flowers, music and food.  The Russians are tied to it.  My healthcare is welfare but it costs a pretty penny.  There’s a red velvet carpet and we prance down it like we are being awarded Oscars.  I met a man who runs guns in Chicago.  He smokes Cubans and black clove cigarettes.  There is a warning that echoes in this sanctuary.  It’s the soul, ace.  The bee’s knees.  Craving ICE at the reception as the alcohol seeps out of my skin.  Everyone smells of gasoline and rancid meat.  It makes me malcontent.  If only love stayed this pure and fresh!  You can drink it a few days past…

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Author: Sudden Denouement

A Global Literary Collective

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