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Juliana 4d
How does it feel,
to know the secrets
of an entire city?

I mean, you can see
everything.

The handshake
for a sold deal,
a new cooperation,
a million jobs created,
another million destroyed.

How does it feel,
to see a ***** street rat,
a plastic bag of sugarcane,
vermin taking their pick
of Chinatown’s lovely leftovers?

How does it feel,
to see children
turning into fathers?

To have them grow,
hoping, praying,
that one day they’ll
be as tall as you?

That the children
will fly among the stars,
angels cursed to play tag,
for just a little bit longer.

How does it feel,
to know that one day,
your favorite will slam
his apartment door
closed for the last time,
bags packed into boxes,
driving into a tunnel,
your line of sight gone,
never to return?

How does it feel,
to know that he might
love the ocean more?
John Mendoza Feb 16
Never been home for more than a few weeks at a time

But when I’m away from you, I never ever  felt more alive

Cause things are never what they seem, to get caught between the scenes and lost within my dreams

Then again, could it just be me or is this all I’ll ever be.......
Luna Dec 2020
This ain't no love track
Many restless nights of the love we lack
You left me so astray
if I had control, things would be a different way
I'm too young to be this wounded, my heart I feel like you looted
I don't like teaching lessons, you're ungrateful for all your blessings
Sad girl interlude, it's sad for you to assume
All the things you accused me of, hate is what we produce
No time to compromise, while you got me losing my mind
I am in my prime, I am in the deep end
You pushed me past  my limit
Not sorry for being selfish, you didn't value me when I was selfless
Our love got me on a high, my spirit is feeling very low inside
Your love is something I had to buy
In denial of what we are, so below as above
Clouded judgement from the drugs
Not the first time I fallen cause of love
Not the first time I fallen cause of love
This is how it goes, when you don't fall for the one
Wasted potential and fabricated fun
All these contradictions, provoking too much friction
Causing us to be distant
What was all this for
I'm tired of all this resistance
I thought you wanted me more
Metrical composition is my muse & sanity
For Tarot Readings & More Information
Follow (IG/SC) @lu.nasreadings
Have a blessed day, Love & Light
Nely Nov 2020
Kiss you in the places you have numbed. Choke you till you cough up an "I love you".
Nely Nov 2020
Between the hours of 4 and 6 a.m you can hear the earth whisper its favorite secrets. The sun always yawns awake, while the moon shy's away. They both live in this moment. Simultaneously fluffing the clouds underneath their cheeks, one falling asleep and one waking, they huddle on top of their pillows and listen to the earth tell its stories. A lot of times I am awake, and they soothe my worries away.  They accompany me when the walls hush me. They never turn me away, even when their parting. We huddle together and we balance our heads and listen to what the earth has to say. Sometimes it's sad, and she weeps. The tears fall hard across the pavement. We try an offer her tissue. Other days its gruesome and the coldness hurts my bones, we offer her warmth. Some days its lonely, we offer her our company. Some days they're happy, we offer her gratitude. No matter the story we listen. & she too listens. There's days I can't sleep so I tell all that runs through my mind, she doesn't judge and neither does the moon or the sun. Nowadays I feel lonely, but I know they're there and they offer me comfort, but somedays I turn them away because I don't feel anything. I feel empty. I turn numb. Numb. Numb. Numb. I feel misunderstood and even I don't understand what should be understood. But they never leave, they visit me from the hours of 4 am to 6 am and even when one shuts its eyes and the other opens one, I know they're there and they're rooting me on. Earth says I don't need to understand how I feel just yet, but sometimes I wonder how long is 'yet'. But to live in the now, but for now go to bed.
Kirin Midas Oct 2020
The cold, the jokes, the laundry load,
Stumbling down stairs sans sound.
View, jet black, as you leave your dorm,
Your mom thinks it's too brown.

The cold, the jokes, the laundry load,
Paying twenty for an hour and a half.
A family of foreign articles jammed in the bag,
You look at me and laugh.

The cold, the jokes, the laundry load,
Buried under the Six.
Train of thought screeching to a halt,
Happy, yet remiss.
For my cousin. Set in Elder Ave Stop of the Six Train in Bronx, this poem is of a mundane yet happy trip to the laundromat.
Off the coast of the Bronx
at the western end of Long Island
before ships landed: the home of the Siwanoy tribe
once the training ground of the 31st U.S Colored Infantry Regiment
according to records, a prisoner of war camp in 1864
later referred to as  "Potter's Field" or "City Cemetery"
then a quarantine station for yellow fever patients
as well as a women's psychiatric hospital & a tubercularium
on the west side of the islands
between an empty 4-acre space lived Solomon Riley's vision of black coney island during Jim Crow  
after the stay and departure of Pheonix house
Hart Island
now is the final resting ground for New York City's covid-19 victims
whose family could not or did not hire a private funeral director and so they were labeled "unclaimed"
Tragically, over 150,000 people have lost their lives and continue losing them.
I saw a picture of a mass grave and traced its location to New York City's Hart Island.  
I wanted to research what victims of Covid-19 were being buried at Hart Island in New York City's mass graves. I also wanted to explore the location's history in tandem.
Overall, it just breaks my heart that federal negligence has contributed to the loss of life. A first world nation with one of its wealthiest cities burying bodies in a mass grave; this is the state of the United States of America. I wish it weren't so.
Violet Stage Aug 2020
Grapefruit soda first thing in the morning
Longing for Jamaican beef patty winning combination
Queens to Manhattan commute
Diverse and chasing
Ever late and racing
But not today
Today I sip on a fancy soda that taste like ting but with a manhattan price ticket
With a few minutes left
Before the race begins again.
E Jun 2020
I write this knowing that
I don’t have much time left
With the time I have
I’ll tell you my story

Born and raised in Boston
Moved to New York City
Met a girl, fell in love
Got a job as a lawyer

Fell out of love
Broke my leg
Quit my job
And here I am today

That is my story
Those are my words
Vladimir Lionter May 2020
I like December New-York by all soul’s fibres
Inspiration is hovering in the air
When holiday admiration is Christmas
And joy’s agitation is pleasant there.
The winter day’s so great in the Central Park
And almost for attire is its paradise.
They are playing country music as if Roy Clark
Were here with talented artists’ dozens.
Wonderful is always view in Fifth Avenue,
As is Holliwoods films were on farther.
And Daniel’s has so tasteful menu,
Thus the Big Apple is one big wonder.
{2018}

НЬЮ-ЙОРК
Я так люблю декабрьский Нью-Йорк,
Ведь в воздухе витает вдохновенье,
Рождественский предпраздничный восторг
И радости приятное волненье!
Зимой прекрасен очень Central Park –
Природный рай почти для урбанистов!
Играют кантри будто сам Рой Кларк
Здесь дюжины талантливых артистов!
Чудесен вид на Пятой Авеню –
Как будто ты в кино из Голливуда!
Тут в Daniel’e вкусное меню –
Большое Яблоко – одно большое чудо!
{2018}

Translator - I. Toporov
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