Not everyone does it, but how I adore
A generous person who works in a store;
Specifically, one who's behind in the deli,
Who slices the meats and the cheese for the belly.

Today, for example, I ordered some cheese
And turkey, my grandson down next to my knees,
His hungry impatience apparent to all;
But just as it seemed he'd resort to a bawl

The counterman offered some turkey, a taste.
Disaster averted and hunger erased.
The guy was a stranger who sized up the scene
Or maybe, to him this was strictly routine.

It doesn't take much to connect with a smile
Yet to many, such actions are not in their style.
The deli employee, for such a small price,
Can improve someone's day just by cutting a slice.

Across the street, on scaffold rigs,
Construction workers hover
And if they’d glance my way, this is
What they just might discover:

A bedroom filled with books and pictures
All in frames of black,
A quilted bed and clutter
I’ve been meaning to attack.

And then, of course, upon a chair,
The other sight they’d see,
With pad and pencil, jotting words,
A rhyming poet – me!

Across the street, on scaffold rigs,
Construction workers hover
And if they’d glance my way, this is
What they just might discover:

A bedroom filled with books and pictures
All in frames of black,
A quilted bed and clutter
I’ve been meaning to attack.

And then, of course, upon a chair,
The other sight they’d see,
With pad and pencil, jotting words,
A rhyming poet – me!

I know I'm ******* at poetry
But I don't care
I just writes what I can
No matter where

I'm no good with words
Nor I am with the mop
But if it makes me feel better
Then why should I stop

It takes my mind off
Once I write what I want
Then once I finish
I can just change the font

This makes me happy
So just let me be
You can think what you like
I'll still be me

It is very cold out
On days like this, pacing keeps your mind off things
Pacing makes one warm
Allows one to think without interruption
Making circles that never end against pavement that stretches out as far as you can see
with ones head always down, blocking off wind, you notice more about the pavement
Whether filled with newspapers that have never been read, or trash strewn alongside it.
It is odd, when it rains
the pavement is much more pleasant to walk on
and you are much more pleasant to see

Theres all this repetition
Didn't sign up for what seems like this competition
Didn't walk two feet before I had to have it
Had to live it
Had to endure it
These storms that never pass
Life's like a rainstorm
Right before it's bound to end
Too many people leaving
Deceiving
Receiving everything that I can't have
Will never have
I suppose that to get these things you must be giving
Though Iv'e been giving for so long and I have gotten nothing in return
But disappointment and the chance to look at all my failures
all of my mistakes

History teaches us multiple things
It teaches us:
Think about the time lost.
Decide your point of view
Don't be Arrogant
To not feel as if everything that is our nations past is all good,
or all bad
or all boring
or all sad
History teaches us the importance
of learning from our mistakes
And knowing that sometimes it repeats itself
In a downwards spiral
Issues that then turn up in poetry,
books, newspapers,
television, radio
Even hidden in the streets, the inside of concrete tunnel walls
In the form of graffiti

excuse me I'd say
Im sorry I'd say
trespassing on streets that were 'not my own'
being treated like a second class citizen in a place that I 'thought was mine'
excuse me I'd say
Im sorry I'd say
as travelers, strange men pass me by
with brief cases
and coats
with shiny new buttons

This man
he unravels large sums of money
that mean much more to him then us
counting out the stacks as if there were nothing else in the world

excuse me I'd say
Im sorry I'd say
then again
why should I be apologizing?
no one ever answers

All this morning I just watched
as the trees swayed in winters wind sound
I watched them release their loyal subjects
waving goodbye as they fell to the cold ground

Good peat will they make when spring comes
the lady three doors along waves at me, saying
I see you are busy again in you're green garden
what next are you thinking of growing

I smile and say rhubarb dear lady
for this is a plant in spring song
the kind that grows from the moons glow
with tips of it's silver leaves covered in snow

I ask her, would you like me to save you a couple
she smiles and lowers her eyes, telling me please do
I would love to take her singleton away
and like Cinderella fit to her a petite shoe

And Some Do

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
By NeonSolaris

© 2011 NeonSolaris (All rights reserved)