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Dreaming in City Lights

I dream of you underneath the starry rural skies
And I can’t wait to dream with you ‘neath the bright city lights
Second Part....
Norman Crane Sep 9
city din under
-standing passengers passing
below the l train
He sells mirrors
In a city of the blind
How convincing
He could be
Ask the blind
Jeanmarie Sep 1
It’s a city in the mountain view
**** I’ve never seen something quite like you
So fun and free, yet peaceful-
A constant reminder of nature’s beauty.

For some the growing happens after high school
For others, the change happens in graduate school
I was nervous to make the transition alone
However, him leaving turned out to be the best **** thing since edible cookie dough
This poem is about my transition to graduate school! I love the location and I don’t feel trapped here! I was also making this transition with someone who had recently left my life, but it turned out to be for the better.  I hope you all enjoy! :)
Trojan Aug 17
They say the city has no landscape
No life
Nothing but concrete
Nothing but steel

They say that
Without ever looking
At the city
In the night

Feral cats
Squirming bugs
And although the trees are small
They loom over small unlit paths

Lonely dogs
Flying moths
And although the buildings are imposing
They too are part of it all

They're our homes
And the homes of rodents
Pigeons
And even more squirming bugs

The city's not dead
But we are
July, 2021
Norman Crane Aug 17
sweet birdsong consumes
the bitterness of cities
a summer morning
There is a rush hour
In the city of my heart
Here people see
Each other as competition
And every dead bird or dark alley
Is a harbinger, a premonition.
Everything comes at the wrong hour
Taxis, jeeps, the tired faces
Heading towards tired places
Deep inside is the insidious machine
The three headed dog, the selfish gene
The one who denies death
The one who craves
And the one who slaves for his breath

There is a rush hour that never stops
An endless coming and going
Trapped inside the gaze of the cyclops
Where there is no wine for soothing
Here, the destination is what matters
The journey is a waste of time
You wait until everyone scatters
And every attempt at rest is a crime
Nida Mahmoed Aug 12
Karachi,
I love Karachi,
not just because'
this city has allowed to'
my grandparents and'
than my parents to'
make their homes here,
but her sky,
moon, sun, air,
ocean and soil are'
breathing in me as a love,
Love is name of a feeling,
where you would try to leave'
that place or a person,
but more you try,
more you feel home'
within them,
As same I do feel with Karachi.

-Nida Mahmoed
Josh Mar 31
we walk beneath the weight of the outside
birds sing in tune with the collective
& trees reveal their 50-year-old whispers

homes along the way glide above the sunshade
in-between blanketed shadows and sidewalks covered in gum

neighbors swim in the darkness behind blackout curtains
their beds balance on cups of bedside water
& a yellow candle glows above the city
Screaming
They do not hear this
Because they're too busy
Doing worthless ****
And pretending that they exist

For a moment you think
You ******* Elon Musk this is a simulation
And this is my realisation
Call me Nick Bostrom and my thought
Is Blood sweat and simulated tears
Because

I observe a figure walking down a street
And in my disorientation I stare at them
Unflinchingly and they stare back and laugh
Like they know me so I'm like what the ****
Who was that guy I'm so confused I swear

**** **** kick a brick that forms part of a wall
Ye Olde England see an Olde man screaming
Abandon hope! Sinner Jim Whitney
Call me Charles Mingus you are the Sinner Lady
And I play my saxophone for you

Sign this page and hand yourself to God
And through this holy book this ancient relic
I save you for you are a sinner
You Jim Whitney repent to rejoice in heaven
There you'll find Dante and Milton
Writing free verse poetry with Christ himself
Resurrected and now

Save the Children with Unicef
Or buy the Big Issue
Would you like a Burrito or a coffee
Or take this money which I loan thee
**** that I feel like you owe me
And I'll spit on your grave and tax your family
Call me Milton Friedman welcome to the economy

Or would you rather let it all go and find the Dharma
There's a Pure Land temple only a train journey away
Come I'll take you there find Abhidhamma
I know you're lost in this postmodern age

Sickness disorientation your mind so blurry
This disorientation the unfocused intensity
Feeling like you don't exist and everything is
So horribly sick and

Walking down a street in all your disorientation
And you're half dead half asleep half existent
Wanting a ******* coffee but you have no money
So you settle for an energy drink that tastes like ****

But you need the caffeine so you can't complain
And your miserable face and ridiculous gait
Is the elephant in the room you ******* good for nothing
******* and why are you even here
Pseudo intellectual half wit

Stop reading Camus you miserable ****
Start watching Love island like any normal
******* miserable person that lives
On this sceptered isle to paraphrase
Shakespeare and revel in your heritage

Aren't you proud to be British
No what is worse what is worse
To be British or to be human
Why am I associated with that flag
That flies on the tower of the house of God
That I observe as I squint my eyes

The Sun is hot but I am cold
I'm very cold so I wear a coat
And a passerby says what the ****
And the wall is my glue yes the wall is my glue

**** look they opened the coffee shop
I want a coffee this energy drink
Tastes like ****
So throw it away
Like life and

Laugh at the pathetic little joke
From a pseudo intellectual
Pseudo poetic poet that cannot write
About this ache they feel…

All this disorientation…
None of it interpretable.
And this poem is never-ending
Unless it just ends.
rage.
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