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Insha 2d
I dream of a day where I pack up and leave
somewhere far away in the heart of New York
where the only reason I can’t sleep at night
is because of the sound of the busy city
and not the sound of you breaking my heart
Troy 3d
The battle done,

Remaining combatants one,

Gazing up to the gray cloak,

Tailored to the palace of the moon,

Threatened only by the ever-fading emissaries,

Of the ailing sun.



Each a perfect sentinel,

Of solar prowess technical.

The ceasefire teased opposite

By the lunar composite,

Of that sweeping cloak,

Choked,

Where the moon once woke.

Neither one nor other,



As if my breath could the life

Of either titan smother.
an effort to make someone feel an image
Silly me, silly me
Thinking I was fine.
I walked through the city that’s so bright,
Blocking out the wails coming out from the night.
Silly me, silly me,
Why would I be fine?
I think of what I used to have,
And how my mind has turned so mad.
Silly me, silly me,
I should have known so much better.
Then to turn me against the tides
and crash the waves of all that has past
Soot on LA highway signs. Billboard of you,
a real estate agent. All endeavor slides
toward inertia, extinction, forgetfulness.

It’s very tropical. Vegetation invades
the house unless constant inputs of joy
apply. The scientist in you feels the

great ape in you. The great ape feels
death growing wide. What about work?
I devote my present to my future existence.

In what way, in what sense
does one continue to resist. As
a dessicated cell, a mole of elements,

an ancient’s aura, a daguerreotype-like
shadow on a sidewalk, persistent headache,
paleolithic herbivore, potential energy, will.

Some wake up and pray, say thanks for
another day. Others curse their luck, stale breath,
the very thought of the rosy dawn makes them ill.

Lonely as leaf fall.
Nature knows no pity or self-pity
according to antiquity, the roof soot of the city.

I admire fire, tools and ore. Agriculture.
Cities, empire. Trading and taking (war).
Numbers, counting, writing. Libraries, discoveries, zero.

And the single-minded universe
that’s only a paper moon
without your love.
www.ronnowpoetry.com

--Harburg, Yip and Rose, Billy, "It's Only a Paper Moon", as performed by Nat King Cole, The King Cole Trio Vol 1, 1943.
that night
the night we walked side by side
feels very far away
like a distant light
hand in hand
Vredeburg laid quiet

the street band

remembering it feels very lonely.
Jogja...
Two Cities, bitter enemies;
Two Cities, truest foes

The First was from eternity,
The Other from the shadow

The First descended from the sky,
The Other from the ground

The First had but a King on high,
The Other Creation crowned

Both Cities do contain the whole
But One contains it all

Both Cities do contain the whole
But One contains it all…

.
In the grey fogs of the cities -
Like mushrooms in the moist,
There grow beggars in the corners,
"Just a penny, sir!" - voiced.


You may find them in any genre;
Old men next to a jar,
Sad blokes without roof nor goods,
Lads playing a guitar.


All they want is only a coin-
Giving them needs morals;
Only God knows, you may be there,
Begging with them for alms.


                       ---


Every time, I bypass by one,
My throat knots in a ball;
I feel an urge to seek coppers,
Always giving them all.


However, once it happened that-
I ran out of changes,
When an old gypsy woman was
Looking for my wages.


She blocked the entry of the shop:
"A coin, may God bless you!";
I excused: Now, I'm short of posh
While trying to get through.


                       ---


She grabbed my arm and hugged my waist:
"My dear, my kids need food!"
Get out of my way, you witch! - thought,
"Witch?! You'll pay for b'ing rude!"


I was shocked: What, she read my mind?!
She spat between my eyes,
Hugged me harder than a python-
While murmuring weird rhymes.


"Pale face - hard heart, now you will pay,
Pale heart - hard face, you'll own!"
I fear'd if there were watching crowds,
But none, I've seen none, none.


                       ---


The witch's gone as if never been,
Leaving my eyes in pain;
Taking my sight away, to say:
Oh my God! Am I sane?!


No doctor could cure my blindness:
"Nah, you must pretend it."
Then, a charlatan informed me:
"You're cursed, I'm sure of it".


Knowing being cursed let me sick;
"You'll need her to be cleansed",
But how to find her in Paris?
Been blinded and uneased.


                       ---


I digged through the darkest quarters,
Meeting gypsy kings and hags;
Though, they were all laughing at me:
"A witch-beldam who begs?!"


My dispair led me to the shop:
Maybe, I'll find her here;
Time has strained my face and my heart,
Begging there year to year.


"All I want is only a coin-
Giving me needs morals;
Only God knows, you may be here,
Begging with me for alms."
Published in Constantine the Bridge Poem Collection.

Written in 2017, Oktober 11, Algeria.
Sept.14.19 // letters that won’t be sent to you

I’m thousand miles away
Away from everything
But they will follow me
Yet it has seem to be lost
By me loosing them
Where there is many people
Where the city's lights are never off
People trading money
For money turned into a tall drink
To last the whole night
Games being played
Like how you played my heart

But I forgot this feeling
The feeling of my heart being played
It felt amazing , but I knew it wasn’t gonna last
As I left the city
Everything was picked up as how they were left
Irem Sep 29
The blonde shimmer of your hair gets lost
In the lights of city and it begins to transform
Into your ambition that keeps you alive
While the shine and glory of youth that you have in your face
Is mixing with loud sirens of the city

Just a little bit , just a little bit shine that I’m searching for
A green glimmer would keep me alive
Trying to distract myself  from the distance that we put between us
A shine of happiness would keep my heart alive

So busy with our lives that we don’t even realize
How the city reacts with our hearts
When we feel a heartache we just look at the city lights
Like lights could take the pain away

Perfectly cut, walls of glasses
Another day is beginning
The sun is rising again.
Inspired by Junko Ohashi’s Crystal City.
Linespace Sep 27
Stirring the city streets is always relaxing.
Whether I'm on foot, or in a car, I move swift and watch.
I watch the spiders pull their strings and tighten and intertwine their intricate webs
Less so focused on any prey,
And more focused on not letting their webs plummet into a tangled mess below.
I walk and watch.
I drive and watch.
The street names become background noise
As I walk with scissors
Looking for the right spiders
To cut free.
I see your networks and I know how it works
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