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else 3d
saturday noon, we sit on solitary metal plates,
i see tomorrow’s windows through your wise old eyes
overlooking grey skies, the monotonicity of life,
“everyone wakes up, works, and sleeps at the same time..."

your voice trails off as the train taking our rest arrives.
Carlo C Gomez Mar 18
soap and water
          dishes
          laundry
          or shower

brick from mortar
boys against girls

urban velvet smog
city vapors clog

this train -- there is a line
        beginners
        quitters

this parking lot -- there is a line
        shoppers
        influencers

open bar pharmacy, bottled water

                  no pity
                  no guarantees

dragon chasers
chin music
        
          lapsed short term memory loss

opening mail for grandmother
                the obituaries
                that ****** fly

a discussion among men
about a woman's voice
           come sit and listen

one last cigarette couple
walking home through the park
               driving alone in the dark
                             on the heels of
                             a reflection
                             of Christ
                             or an hourglass
                             in remission

them or not them
       just arrived
       just married
too many stairs
not enough elevators
worry about it later

them, definitely them
sharing beds
      under the leotard
      under the candlelight

a helping hand
finely manicured fingers
one stationary
        then two in missionary

word upon words need aspirin
            orchestrate
            headache
                            pillow is the threshold
                            tomorrow...soap and water
Zywa Mar 4
In the city there are many doors
that are open at night
to being awake
experiencing something together
across the threshold
no longer being an outsider

In the city there are many sidewalks
where people stand
and explore distant areas
with flexible words
questions and mental leaps
to become familiar with them

In the city there are many gardens
where children play, birds
whistle and all year round, flowers
attract bees and people
to come and feast
on the nectar of the day
Collection "WoofWoof"
neth jones Feb 27
a twisted stomach
chemical nervousness
this city heave     dawning
anti haiki
Zywa Feb 19
In the big city,

one person's ceiling is an-


other person's floor.
Novel "The Golden House" (2017, Salman Rushdie), chapter (2-) 21

"Nani gigantum humeris insidentes" ("Dwarfs standing on the shoulders of giants"), among others, quoted by Isaac Newton

Collection "Low gear [2]"
Zywa Feb 11
The citizens talk

down the lime trees: they're dripping --


honey every year.
Poem "De voorwaarden" ("The conditions", 1991, Ed Leeflang)

City dwellers demand nature without inconveniences

Collection "Willegos"
ZACK GRAM Jan 31
Be at peace in Gods plan
Gods gifts
An Gods lands
The King shall demolish you
You will never **** my White Rock
Gold domes
Jesus Christs
Joshuahs
Riahs
Epic cost pals
Sumerian Rick
Tablet Brick
GOLD CUPS
GOLD THRONES
my wifi so strong
Walk a mile walk a preach
No guns my brothers baught them
Rip hooks
No sama no bin ladins
The Greatness Moving
Pour a cup
Nevermind fallback
Pay a tax
Giant tree petrified
Blocks
**** a stock you need water
No sink
No toilet
Sit on a bucket
Kitchen closed
Wash your hands dust your soldier
Out the mag charge
Compton baby DieGone alley
No pres Z no Pres X got Next
Pop an dip
Sip a syrup
No vial
Straight *****
Ask Him Yourself
David Cunha Jan 21
Roads stretch for miles,
The city lights seem lonely
and 27 like an ominous number

I search my head for answers,
Though thoughts about age and time
seem pointless

I wonder what the stars think of their mortality,
Does it also seem like a short time?
Is someone also stealing their time?
Does it feel like a rush?
Do they also feel small?
Can their gigantic heat generate as much joy as it illudes us to?

There is no point in wondering
Yet wondering puts my mind to ease...

....I wonder why
- David Cunha
january 21,2024
12:54 a.m.
Birthday boy!
Carlo C Gomez Dec 2023
I woke up at angles with you
---a parallelogram, opposite but equal,
my thoughts in constant rotating view
---a diagram, showing us where
our homes are laid to rest,
where streets became dead spiders
caught in their own webs.

If we are in transit via tunnel,
aqueduct, or escalator,
it might be cinema.

If we lose atlas in the worship of light,
it might be cinema.

But I can't find you here;
here, where they used to build ships
from sand and steam
and science fiction;
where they used to design
buildings so as to create
a dissonant and mournful
whistling sound when wind
blew through them
---ostentatious things;
dead people’s things.

Through walls and underneath concrete, dug so deeply
into the wide plains
and withered, gnarled tree roots
of an agonizer's conurbation,
is a space halfway to the zenith,
charting the prescribed power
of in-betweenness.

Never again will we draw meaning from
our proximity to one another.
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