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Maksim Dec 2017
Come enter the darkness
Come witness a monster, a man
Of features of a rare creature
With a clear path for a seeker
With a life of a greeter. Stay warm in this cold world with heater
Away from the gangsters and strippers.
Join the growers and hipsters.
Free like in the Castro and Mission.
Always in the corner, being a loner, getting high like a stoner,
being awake unlike an employee and being free.
Don't you see the system of delusion where they draw the conclusion but it's time take back the power and find a resolution
And lead to a revolution
Josh Nov 2017


Absorbing dust and Golden heat,
living more openly than I do,
he shimmies to Billie Holiday

The year is not 1957, though
he lives in a San Francisco fog
longing to play the piano

The time in not 11:57pm, though
he orders a ***** martini & swims
in the fishbowl bay

Escaping to Telegraph Hill
to drink moonlight jazz & vermouth
he pretends to live

Way back when

*
I haven't wrote a poem in 2 years!
Igorgoldkind Nov 2017
Igor Goldkind and John Kingsmill will perform TrypTych: The Third Act of Creation in its entirety  at tonight’s Art and Poetry event in Balboa Park around 7.30 pm

With authors Tomas Gayton, Jim Moreno, and Chris Vannoy. People’s Choice Poem Performance Awards follow featured readings and performances. DJ Gill Sotu will provide music and sound throughout the show. This interactive arts and culture experience will include beverages, snacks, and plenty of time to mingle. Bring a snack or beverage to share and get in free. Info: 619-957-3264.

  When:   Friday, November 10, 6:30 p.m. to 9:30 p.m.
  Where:  San Diego Art Institute1439 El Prado,
San Diego, 92101

https://www.sandiegoreader.com/events/2017/nov/10/poetry-art-at-sdai-fri-sept-22-gayt/?et=219255#
glass can Sep 2017
Someone said that having secrets was like holding an invisible box close to your chest. Nobody can get close and they can't see why.

It's in the ******* way.

I overturned my box, papers all tumbling out--you could've picked up any one and asked a question.

You said nothing, upturning like a fish. Belly-up boy.

I picked softly at your lip, finding a tattoo on the inside of your lip.
It says "*****" but it might as well have said "YOU'RE STUPID" to me.

I tried to pull any information I could about it out of you.
I got nothing, like *** from a stone.
How many happy misadventures do I get?
How many boys do I lose in my bed?
Does this count as a valid experience?
Have I learned anything?
“Is this what you do?”
Sitting on a dock in Sausalito looking out over
One of the grandest scenes that I had ever seen, I replied,
“What do you mean?”
Moving her feet further away from mine she replied,
“Travel around the country to see women that you barely know?”
Leaning back I answer her half laughing,
“Nope, haven’t had a date in twenty five years.”
“Is that how long you were married?”
“Twenty- three,” I answered changing the subject I continued,
“Sorry, but this view, it is beautiful, it’s like nothing I’ve ever seen.”
Ignoring my intended change she says,
“Well, I hope you know that just
Because you flew from Atlanta to San Francisco - that doesn’t
Mean that you are getting lucky tonight.”
Turning toward her, I responded, “Come on, just relax, can’t we
Just try and enjoy the evening?”

It was about an hour after sunset when we decided to walk back
Up the street to a two story restaurant to get something to eat.
We stopped at the door to look at the menu,
I could hear music from inside and that’s when I noticed the sign
That read:
“Open Mic Competition Tonight – $10 to Enter, $250 & CD to the Winner.”

We went in and were seated and soon we ordered our meals.
The ice was so chokingly thick between us that I was
Beginning to wonder why it was that I had come so far.

We talked little during the meal, mostly about her work and
About my son, who was ten and the fact that I had custody.
“I figure it’s hard for a man in Georgia to get custody of children?”
She said, clearly making a question within a statement.
“Oh, I suppose we are not as backward in the South as we are made out to be,”
I answered her listening to the entertainment coming from the upstairs bar.
I was watching through the windows of the restaurant as a
Huge barge moved across the glittering waters of San Francisco bay.
Off to one side I could make out the lights of the Golden Gate Bridge.
Amazingly beautiful.
“It must be nice to be able to have views like this everyday,” I commented.
She hardly noticed that I’d said anything.

When we had finished eating, I paid and we got up to leave.
As we passed by the stairway leading up to the bar I said,
“Let’s go listen to some of the local talent.”
She nodded her approval and said that she needed to go to the ladies room.
With her gone I gave the man behind the booth $10 and filled out the papers.
When she returned we climbed the stairs and were seated
At a table just in front of the stage.
A woman was singing her rendition of
“The Tambourine Man.”
It was truly an eclectic crowd that somehow was still enthralled in the
Middle to late 1960’s, you know the type.
The Haight Ashbury district was sure alive and well here in Sausalito.

I watched my date, she wasn’t impressed, not in the least.
The bar had a house band that would play whatever music the
New entertainer wanted to be played.
We listened to several other hopeful stars.
Then they called my name.

I looked to my date and saw the surprise in her eyes as I said,
“Would you excuse me for a minute?”
I took to the stage asking the keyboard player to move over.
I turned around and winked at my date.
And then I began to sing and play…

'Sittin on the Dock of The Bay.'

Having sung my song, I returned to our table.
Did I break the ice?
The $250 prize was a nice little footnote,
As was the rest of the evening.
No more wasted time………*

(Click or cut and paste the link below to hear me on the CD)
https://youtu.be/D-EKmIirqYE

The above link will take you to YouTube.com where I have uploaded the song. You will need to copy and paste the URL into your browser and once it loads click on the arrow in the bottom left of The YouTube player to start up the music. The above story is almost useless without hearing the music.
Martin Bailes Mar 2017
Can a pretty girl
in a short red dress
take away
this emptiness?

Hold me close
squeeze me tight
fill my soul
with rays of light?

Used to be that
the prettiest girls
were actually boys
but no more,
for nowadays
there's a whole mess
of the most gorgeous women
in heels & short tight dresses,
standing on the corners
as offerings to the ways
of men,

some so youthful
that their long sweet legs
totter & tremble
in their fancy shoes
as do the steps
of a new-born
upon the vast
plains of Africa,

& strutting jazzily
their tender flesh
to catch an eye
& then lean
in provocative geometry
into car windows
to state terms
& size customers,

with small handbags
squeezed tight
to their sides,

as they gather in groups
emanating an ****** power
seemingly enhanced
by numbers,

& yet to stroll by
& listen in
reveals nothing more
than simple gossip
& observation,

for after all these
are only working girls
not goddesses at
their ease.
provocative geometry
J Valle Dec 2016
If there were no time,
If there were no lies,
Tell me if you would consider
Changing up your mind?

If there was a place
Where we could escape,
Forget all the past,
Never think of the future,
Living the long eternal present,
Tell me if you would consider,
Running away with me.

If there was a way,
To ignore all the voices,
All the ideals, all of our pride,
Be just two souls in love with each other

If there was just love,
No richness nor poverty,
Only happiness
In our minds.

Tell me if you would consider
Loving me again.
ㅡjatm Sep 2016
Didn't she said,
That you are her poetry?
A poetry that breathes,
Something that cannot be
Emplace beneath.

You are unintentionally,
Breaking her reverie,
And now you are turning her,
Into a catastrophe.
I hear screaming below me
Somewhere down in the streets of the forgotten
The echoes sound like marbles in a tin can
Held up to my ear

I can’t sleep, shadows look like humans
And I lean hungrily against my cold wall
Looking for a trace
Feeling for a face,
While the screaming ripples through skyscrapers and clean glass windows of office buildings

I almost wait for the sirens that cut the fog of the city in two
Like a machete to my pillowy body
And I feel to blame
I am warm and alone and insane

I fear I’ll never leave this room
I fear I’ll memorize the city’s hum
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