There is an immensity of life between us
in the cracks of the tar lining the streets of the new and the up and coming
in the cement foundations of pieces of history torn down to make way for condos
in the luxury of the innocent
in the opulence of the well versed
(I was never brilliant or oblivious but I understood the weight of it still)
there is life here
in the filthy river water we use to cleanse ourselves of modern day idealism
in the pedicured grass of the only wild space left in the city
in the eyes of the people who go unnoticed for years
in the hands of the business men devastating and deciding the price of our humanity
we nest in this hive
we levitate and gravitate towards new heights and new highs
vowing to go up and over up and over until we revert back to the way we once were
a pretty word for dissatisfaction
tearing down walls only to romanticize their restriction ten years later
we build up to break down to reenforce what we already know
but yet there is a beyond
and yet still there is more
still there is life in the existential
still there in the thoughts between sleep and waking
still between the jump and the fall
and even still you take your forearm and run it along the curve of the earth surrounding this city
this coal eating monster washed with the dreams of a thousand drunkards looking for some other body to call home
and we call it home
with the austere buildings and mirror images reflecting bricks and soot
reflecting breath and sighs
reflecting life and death
and between it all
there is so much life
yes between us
there is an immensity of life.
Poem for my city and for you. Procrastinating a paper and listening to King Krule. The way he writes kind of destroys me. He creates fullness in minimalism and captures his surroundings perfectly.
'Trapped in a lizard state'.
The singer's echoes,
the words too clear.
Like a lizard, I lay and wait,
biding my time.
Waiting for my prey to walk in the door.
To latch, and to never let go.
To playfully wrestle the bait.
But for now I am waiting,
staring at nothing.
I wonder if Lizards don't sleep much,
because of their dreams.
Cause if so, I am most definitely cold blooded.
Staring into nothing,
waiting for my prey.
If someone can interpretate this I'll be shocked (not a challenge)
— The End —