I took a sharp turn onto a street unbeknownst to me. I was the only one walking against the strong winds on the slick, dark avenue. I had left behind a sunny boardwalk full of light and laughter. But even then, I was better off in the damp alleyway. Appearances can be misleading, and in this case, they certainly were.
I was unpacking in my new apartment the other day, and I was working on a box that’s been building from all of my moves- I’d just sweep the top of the desk into the box, and I’d just store it at the next place, until I moved and I swept another desk top in it. I’d done this for about 3 consecutive moves. And looking through that box- all the photos, essays, journals, toys, and whatever else- was like going down Memory Lane, then making a left onto Memory Avenue, and then ducking into all the memory alleys and finally taking the Memory highway to downtown Memoryville.
I stood at the avenue with my umbrella still folded. The rain came down and washed away a dark coffee stain down the rain gutter. My face was wet and I realized that my eye makeup was running down my cheeks, my lips were lost in the tears and the rain. And I stood crumpled as the umbrella in my hand.
Surrenderpity
avenue
Q :)
I haven’t even seen the darned thing. Except online. But oh, that hasn’t stopped me from knowing most of the music!
I would love to do that show. – Except I could never hold a puppet up over me for that long. I can’t believe the same people are able (physically!) to keep doing this show years later. They must be made of steel.
Noisy Quiet
down the avenue with tuis frolicking and cajoling me I go…who knows what this day will bring.
The avenue was sullen and dirty with the remnants of ice salt. The satisfying scrape it made when my shoes collided with the sidewalk was enticing and thought inducing. Almost like a natural soundtrack for my walk around the neighborhood.
Moon
Avenue, like Sunrise Avenue, it’s a song, very old but I kinda like it. It is a rock song by SUnrise Avenue lol, anyway I dunno what else to write about it hmm
Toughhooker
Avenues are dark and deathly calm sometimes. Sometimes they might be sweet are subtly nice.
Moon
There is an avenue he passes by on the way home. In the early morning the avenue is busy, as cars pass by, their passengers rushing to work or school. In the evening it is the same, young people take the time to dress up so they can go to parties around that same place. His favorite time to pass by that avenue is in the middle of the day, when it is silent, when there are hardly any cars or any people.
Yesterday, on Nebraska avenue, my carpooling partners and I saw a random man dancing. His sign said to search him up on YouTube, that he was a contestant for 2012. So we checked, due to his awesomeness. We couldn’t find him, and auditions start in October. We can’t figure out if he’s GOING to try out, or if he’s legitimately insane. Either way, if he gets on, I’m voting for him and his determination.
And on an unrelated note, Avenue = Boulevard = Broken Dreams. instant connection.
There was a silence. Jensen simply had no frame of reference for what he was experiencing and so he found it difficult to wrap his head around what was happening. Suddenly, a new avenue of thought flowed into his head as if my some magical act his concerns were being addressed “within” his mind.
Now, THAT is kind of freaky, Jensen thought worriedly.
I don’t know many avenues. I’ve grown up in the country my entire life. It’s always long dirt roads… never avenues criss-crossing streets. I like that simplicity. It has given my life a sense of innocence that I wouldn’t have if I would have grown up in town.
I am walking down the avenue, not really knowing where to go. My shoes against the cobblestones gives me an indefinable pleasure that keeps me going. I just want to keep hearing that clop clop clop. I don’t want to stop going. I don’t want to turn around.
beneath the exhalation of mercury lamps
she was swallowed up by deep rooted cracks in
the stone pavement. her broken nails lay the only sign she had
ever been there at all; signs of
a struggle unseen even by those who looked closely.
The pavement is shiny and steaming. it is a hot, muggy night on the avenue. Was that a backfire or a gunshot? Hmmm… I think I’ll go to the other store tonight. Can never be too safe.
Bryan Green
welcome to your new life.
you made a random turn
and here you have arrived
it’s a different way of getting
where you inevitably would go
it’s a street you wouldn’t turn down
because you simply didn’t know
but now that you’ve made it
look and see where you are
it’s your very own avenue
because in this show you’re the star
Down the avenue, I saw her swinging her hips and her watermelon pink lips. A vision straight out of 1969. She was perfect. She was London. She was soul, and her dark crushed velvet voice caught me around my ankles. I tripped into her. She never noticed.
In my blacked out room
I trace felt tip roads along a monochrome map
Somewhere soon, in a coffee and kevlar office
pins will drain the ink on a colour wall mounted copy
change the title
charge the appraisal
where do we live now
that avenue is drive?
i wished for the ease
of lazy oak lined cul de sacs
but instead got tangled
in the red tape of
homeownership
One day, a hairless cat walked down the avenue. His nails were long and clicked as he walked down the steaming concrete streets. People passed him, some took one look, then turned away. Others took their foot and kicked him to the side. The hairless cat, however, with green eyes held its ears up and ignored the ugliness of humanity.
tani
It’s always fun to take a short stroll down Fifth Avenue from time to time.
To see everyone in their Prada pantsuits and Chanel heels, faces coated with designer makeup and arms proudly toting huge shopping bags plastered with strange words like “Gucci” and “Dior”, as though every little bit of work they had ever done was to raise enough money for the latest LV handbag.
It really makes you wonder how we can contain billions of nerves, six quarts of blood, a full set of organs, and thirty-two teeth, and still be so empty.
the avenue swished with the ghosts of taxi’s past.
harsh gray light filled every three sidewalk squares.
there was a whisper in the air, but nothing intelligible.
crackling noises bounced off the inside of a metal garbage bin.
this was not the place to find love or hate.
this was a place you could find nothing,
other than the cobwebs of who you used to be.
Amanda Drozd
so many. so long. loooong blocks; three minutes versus one minute. Or is that one minute versus twenty ish seconds? long strides, tight face. closed. open
I liked on an avenue once. It was a dead end so not many people drove down it. This led to little to no activity. This was a known fact to the derelicts of the city and at night t became swarmed with illegal activities.
V
On the avenue where we walked…gold glinting from windows, the street paved in gold, light hanging like a gold voil from beneath the clouds. The traffic like a neon pulse. Here was the hub of every horizon. A golden path of potential unfolded.
i waltsed down the avenue, the happiness was bubbling up from my soul and infecting my walk with a slight bounce, and played on my face with a slight flickering smile. i was in no hurry to get to my destination, so i gazed up at the clouds and inspected the dandilions being careesed by the wind. i was just happy to be alive
down the avenue she rolled faster and faster her hair billowing out in the wind like a red cape. she was out of control, no stopping. the fear bubbled up inside of her along with the excitement.
kacey flipper
The place was hidden. It was tucked back amongst darkness and concrete, on a lonely forgotten avenue that hadn’t seemed to age like the rest of the town did. It was nowhere they wanted to spend a night at, but it was still better than sleeping in the car.
There’s a place off Ocean Avenue. Where I used to sit and talk with you. We were both 16 and it felt so right. Sleeping all day staying up all nightttttttttttt. ♪♫♪♫ It also makes me think of NYC for some odd reason. But hey, whatever works.
Tara
streets are nice things, you meet strangers and sometimes you can give them candy in exchange for sex. While they orgasm in the dark, the stick gum in your hair, and the only way to get it out is to wash it. But there is no shampoo in dark avenues.
hdrhdrhjdr
cruising. lights. love. air. honk, honk; honk. “this town has never looked so beautiful.” sighs. smoke, thick.
Elk Avenue. The main street in my town. THe place to chill. The corner of 3rd and elk is the place where the teenagers hang in my town. It is our spot. We watch the noobish tourists walk by with a smile. More summer memories last on elk Avenue than any other.
I met you on the avenue. You said you had nowhere to go, but you seemed to be in a hurry. I said, that’s fine, I’ll walk with you – I was just out for an idle stroll. You said, “No!” like you didnt want to be followed.
I took a sharp turn onto a street unbeknownst to me. I was the only one walking against the strong winds on the slick, dark avenue. I had left behind a sunny boardwalk full of light and laughter. But even then, I was better off in the damp alleyway. Appearances can be misleading, and in this case, they certainly were.
I was unpacking in my new apartment the other day, and I was working on a box that’s been building from all of my moves- I’d just sweep the top of the desk into the box, and I’d just store it at the next place, until I moved and I swept another desk top in it. I’d done this for about 3 consecutive moves. And looking through that box- all the photos, essays, journals, toys, and whatever else- was like going down Memory Lane, then making a left onto Memory Avenue, and then ducking into all the memory alleys and finally taking the Memory highway to downtown Memoryville.
I stood at the avenue with my umbrella still folded. The rain came down and washed away a dark coffee stain down the rain gutter. My face was wet and I realized that my eye makeup was running down my cheeks, my lips were lost in the tears and the rain. And I stood crumpled as the umbrella in my hand.
avenue
Q :)
I haven’t even seen the darned thing. Except online. But oh, that hasn’t stopped me from knowing most of the music!
I would love to do that show. – Except I could never hold a puppet up over me for that long. I can’t believe the same people are able (physically!) to keep doing this show years later. They must be made of steel.
down the avenue with tuis frolicking and cajoling me I go…who knows what this day will bring.
Avenue, street, road, boulevard, place, circle. Which way do we go?
sitting here on the avenue,
waiting for you.
tappin my toes,
squinting at the sun,
listening to the lull of the world.
your footsteps sound behind me
a spark ignites inside me,
as you whisk me to my feet.
Plaster Paris avenue.
What?!
That’s the road that Rigby lives on.
Um, that is weird.
It’s the name of a road. Get over it!
Kk.
.
anza
the old apartment
when my parents
divorsed
it was a weird place
pearl was the manager
she wasn’t nice
i am happy
i don’t live there
anymore
The avenue was sullen and dirty with the remnants of ice salt. The satisfying scrape it made when my shoes collided with the sidewalk was enticing and thought inducing. Almost like a natural soundtrack for my walk around the neighborhood.
Avenue, like Sunrise Avenue, it’s a song, very old but I kinda like it. It is a rock song by SUnrise Avenue lol, anyway I dunno what else to write about it hmm
Avenues are dark and deathly calm sometimes. Sometimes they might be sweet are subtly nice.
There is an avenue he passes by on the way home. In the early morning the avenue is busy, as cars pass by, their passengers rushing to work or school. In the evening it is the same, young people take the time to dress up so they can go to parties around that same place. His favorite time to pass by that avenue is in the middle of the day, when it is silent, when there are hardly any cars or any people.
Yesterday, on Nebraska avenue, my carpooling partners and I saw a random man dancing. His sign said to search him up on YouTube, that he was a contestant for 2012. So we checked, due to his awesomeness. We couldn’t find him, and auditions start in October. We can’t figure out if he’s GOING to try out, or if he’s legitimately insane. Either way, if he gets on, I’m voting for him and his determination.
And on an unrelated note, Avenue = Boulevard = Broken Dreams. instant connection.
“Literature is an avenue to glory.”
There was a silence. Jensen simply had no frame of reference for what he was experiencing and so he found it difficult to wrap his head around what was happening. Suddenly, a new avenue of thought flowed into his head as if my some magical act his concerns were being addressed “within” his mind.
Now, THAT is kind of freaky, Jensen thought worriedly.
I don’t know many avenues. I’ve grown up in the country my entire life. It’s always long dirt roads… never avenues criss-crossing streets. I like that simplicity. It has given my life a sense of innocence that I wouldn’t have if I would have grown up in town.
I am walking down the avenue, not really knowing where to go. My shoes against the cobblestones gives me an indefinable pleasure that keeps me going. I just want to keep hearing that clop clop clop. I don’t want to stop going. I don’t want to turn around.
walking down sixth avenue isn’t that the lyric Kirsty mcColl very sad so avenue always a wide happy spacey word i think not supposed to be sad.
beneath the exhalation of mercury lamps
she was swallowed up by deep rooted cracks in
the stone pavement. her broken nails lay the only sign she had
ever been there at all; signs of
a struggle unseen even by those who looked closely.
The pavement is shiny and steaming. it is a hot, muggy night on the avenue. Was that a backfire or a gunshot? Hmmm… I think I’ll go to the other store tonight. Can never be too safe.
welcome to your new life.
you made a random turn
and here you have arrived
it’s a different way of getting
where you inevitably would go
it’s a street you wouldn’t turn down
because you simply didn’t know
but now that you’ve made it
look and see where you are
it’s your very own avenue
because in this show you’re the star
© L
Down the avenue, I saw her swinging her hips and her watermelon pink lips. A vision straight out of 1969. She was perfect. She was London. She was soul, and her dark crushed velvet voice caught me around my ankles. I tripped into her. She never noticed.
In my blacked out room
I trace felt tip roads along a monochrome map
Somewhere soon, in a coffee and kevlar office
pins will drain the ink on a colour wall mounted copy
change the title
charge the appraisal
where do we live now
that avenue is drive?
i wished for the ease
of lazy oak lined cul de sacs
but instead got tangled
in the red tape of
homeownership
One day, a hairless cat walked down the avenue. His nails were long and clicked as he walked down the steaming concrete streets. People passed him, some took one look, then turned away. Others took their foot and kicked him to the side. The hairless cat, however, with green eyes held its ears up and ignored the ugliness of humanity.
It’s always fun to take a short stroll down Fifth Avenue from time to time.
To see everyone in their Prada pantsuits and Chanel heels, faces coated with designer makeup and arms proudly toting huge shopping bags plastered with strange words like “Gucci” and “Dior”, as though every little bit of work they had ever done was to raise enough money for the latest LV handbag.
It really makes you wonder how we can contain billions of nerves, six quarts of blood, a full set of organs, and thirty-two teeth, and still be so empty.
the avenue swished with the ghosts of taxi’s past.
harsh gray light filled every three sidewalk squares.
there was a whisper in the air, but nothing intelligible.
crackling noises bounced off the inside of a metal garbage bin.
this was not the place to find love or hate.
this was a place you could find nothing,
other than the cobwebs of who you used to be.
so many. so long. loooong blocks; three minutes versus one minute. Or is that one minute versus twenty ish seconds? long strides, tight face. closed. open
I liked on an avenue once. It was a dead end so not many people drove down it. This led to little to no activity. This was a known fact to the derelicts of the city and at night t became swarmed with illegal activities.
On the avenue where we walked…gold glinting from windows, the street paved in gold, light hanging like a gold voil from beneath the clouds. The traffic like a neon pulse. Here was the hub of every horizon. A golden path of potential unfolded.
i waltsed down the avenue, the happiness was bubbling up from my soul and infecting my walk with a slight bounce, and played on my face with a slight flickering smile. i was in no hurry to get to my destination, so i gazed up at the clouds and inspected the dandilions being careesed by the wind. i was just happy to be alive
down the avenue she rolled faster and faster her hair billowing out in the wind like a red cape. she was out of control, no stopping. the fear bubbled up inside of her along with the excitement.
The place was hidden. It was tucked back amongst darkness and concrete, on a lonely forgotten avenue that hadn’t seemed to age like the rest of the town did. It was nowhere they wanted to spend a night at, but it was still better than sleeping in the car.
There’s a place off Ocean Avenue. Where I used to sit and talk with you. We were both 16 and it felt so right. Sleeping all day staying up all nightttttttttttt. ♪♫♪♫ It also makes me think of NYC for some odd reason. But hey, whatever works.
streets are nice things, you meet strangers and sometimes you can give them candy in exchange for sex. While they orgasm in the dark, the stick gum in your hair, and the only way to get it out is to wash it. But there is no shampoo in dark avenues.
cruising. lights. love. air. honk, honk; honk. “this town has never looked so beautiful.” sighs. smoke, thick.
Elk Avenue. The main street in my town. THe place to chill. The corner of 3rd and elk is the place where the teenagers hang in my town. It is our spot. We watch the noobish tourists walk by with a smile. More summer memories last on elk Avenue than any other.
I met you on the avenue. You said you had nowhere to go, but you seemed to be in a hurry. I said, that’s fine, I’ll walk with you – I was just out for an idle stroll. You said, “No!” like you didnt want to be followed.
“Ok, that’s fine too.”