Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nat Lipstadt Jan 2016
the surprisingly sweetest clementine

amidst the marble and stone pillars
of the museum's fifth avenue grand hall,
a woman grows faint and woozy,
and the Egyptian artifacts five thousand years old,
re-proved as reusable, sustainable,
as leaning-against-posts
for the dizzy

the boyfriend well familiar
with dehydration side effects,
from pocket pulls a natural pill of
a sweet clementine,
restoring the well
to the good

she marvels at
how came I
to place a survival kit in my
coat pocket?

smiling, he confesses
his fondness for
for all her needs,
known and unknown

even carries an inventory,
with back ups to back ups,
assorted sundries,
he calls it,
proving his point too well,
reaching into the other
pocket and offering
yet another,
a second helping
for his,
oh my darling,
sweetest clementine

she, undecided,
laugh or cry,
both equally attractive amazement solutions,
says only:

I love you for reasons,
known and unknown,
take me home
for reasons
now known,
and others,
as of yet,
most happily,

a  true story.

P.S. he hates carrying anything
Josie C Jan 2019
When the sky sheds tear
and the up-creek of the city water
ripples beneath your shoes
this and the green man
flings you forth
onto pattering stone.

you bob with the other umbrellas
I wonder what its like for them
to see a sea of beautiful rainfall
and the creatures, hiding beneath -
too weak to take it.

They move like a sea as if one,
despite each having their own trajectory
marching as if they chose it.
The metropolitan man thinks of himself as a freethinking individual, rational and autonomous. Unaware of the patterns and streams he follows like a flock of birds.
Maine Dela Cruz Nov 2017
neon lights
busy streets
blank faces
empty pockets
innocence lost
in thin air.

overturned truck
honking cabs
bumber to bumper
broken rib
missing tooth
bruised eye.

rotten flesh
distant shadows
scattered bullets
cardboard signs
wailing women
hushed tones.

pinch of salt
freshly squeezed lime
shot glass
vape juice
white cloud
Ketika awan tak lagi biru
dan mawar tak nampak merah
Gemerlap neon di angkasa mengaburkan sisi moral serta logika
sinisme dan dosa duniawi tak lagi terhalau
dan pepohonan kering menyeruak
Angkasa menjadi saksi

Akan ada kesederhanaan
pemikiran kecil akan hidup di metropolis
belenggu takdir,
tangis serta tawa
larut dalam anggur hitam yang akhirnya luruh dalam hasrat memiliki

Menuju masa lalu,
angin pagi pun hilang,
bersama raja angkasa yang padam
langit membelah
turunlah tangga menuju puncak duniawi
merentang seluas tangan,
menggapai mimpi-mimpi sederhana yang hilang terbawa arus kering,
menusuk tanpa arti
Yang Terhormat
Pahlawan Yang Terkubur Derasnya Kapitalisme
RW Dennen Aug 2014
The great New York metropolitan
stretching its  vibrancy
trafficking its wears.
Car horns combating in contemptuous arguments
habituated eardrums unwittingly pulsating

Great buildings upward; towering behemoths in grandiose splendor
This great asphalt jungle sprawling its electricity for blocks,
for miles
The jazz of the city continues the chanting; the sounds of bass and the blowing of the **** sax, the horn, the piano
and the drums drumming on its rhythmical beat

Beating hearts feeling the vibrancy; the shock waves of nuances echoing the great hustle
Multitude of voices singing praise to the different tongues;
vibrant in diverse rejoicing, the poetry of men and women
Metropolitans claiming the world condensing into small
blocks and listening to its RHAPSODY.
preservationman May 2014
Come with me for a ride
Don’t even try to hide
It’s going to be a weekend getaway
Destination being Baltimore all the way
It will be the highway and us
Seeing Baltimore is a must
I am staying at my Uncle’s house
I am not married and have no spouse
My cousin drove his motorcycle
He wanted to take me for a ride
So I actually rode with my Cousin on his motorcycle
We rode through Downtown Baltimore and back
I was capturing a breeze through the helmet
Observing the crazy drivers attempting to drive
Then there was some with their mind in there own strive
I arrived back at my Uncle’s house in tack
Baltimore was fund and the weekend was young.

— The End —