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JLB May 8
Canadian goose sitting
On retaining wall of stone.
Bellied up to the roadside edge,
Seemingly alone.

Wistful and wishful the goose,
While watching the men working-
On sterile high rise apartments
Near build-it-and-they-will-come bars.

With wings that can fly, oh why,
Does it seem like he will jump?
It's a 10 ft fall way down below
To a concrete & chrome filled dump.

I look into his eyes to find,
The huge suffering he feels.
But further there beyond the goose,
A habitat's revealed.

A winding glade n' Greenway path,
To an urban pond and park.
Not as grim to him, I see--
friends swimming by the dock.

Yes, a goose will always find
The water in the sprawl.
He'll find the pretty little stream,
By offices & malls.

To be goose, is to be free
Of yearning and supposing.
Of thinking how things ought to be,
Unsettled by the hoping.

If I could find my little stream,
Oh, maybe I could swim.
I could honk and splash and settle down-
Find the peace somewhere within.
Damocles Apr 27
Blue-black, clogged, and clotted,
a doll lay on the floor,
cracked and broken.
Not a syringe to spare could save her despair, and they kept powdering her nose,
but only the mirror knew —
where she truly went when looking inward. Bleeding out, razorblades and poison kisses made her the essential cadaver mistress.
Based from a woman I knew in college who wound up addicted to drugs and being pimped out until she eventually overdosed one day. Still think about her…wish the rehab and support worked.
Jon Apr 24
its lights are on
glowing dimly
like an abandoned parking lot

the concrete
dappled with
cigarettes
pebbles
people
stones
cigarettes

the sign still says they're open
we all know they're closed
they just don't want to tell us yet
Carlo C Gomez Apr 17
~
Where there used to be trees,
but is now a causeway
under the Lord's nose,
reside a constant tourist and his wife
who have all they ever wanted,
light and lure.

They swim in a pool
on the dangling homestar,
overlooking metal decay,
she pinches his cheek,
he smacks her bottom,
summer in Gotham
is now upon them,
gifting different things:
he sees mystery lights endeavor,
she sees herself a dragonfly
on the lure.

Monday thru Friday
they like to ride
the elevator of their love,
up and down it goes along a focal point,
out of him and into her,
when the door closes
they come together,
when the door opens
it lets in the tide of loneliness
and they begin to push buttons.

They dislike home
and its constant secrets,
what she wears is for him,
but less is more,
he invades her often,
but she's become a empty field,
theirs is Neptune's bedroom,
if they don't find
a reason to make love,
they will stay up all night
until irritable frozen creatures.

Invictus interruptus,
with the luck of the draw
they play dangerous days:
a game of blindfolds
and snowmobiles,
a game of hammers
and nails.

The plane of their lust
hunts the morning light
on gloomy Sunday,
the rain wets their hair,
the sidewalk creates a song:
electric skylark,
they dance out of focus,
he grasps her hips,
she makes a beautiful sound,
caught by magic,
trapped by photographic memory
and numbered doors.

Light and lure.
All anomalies.

Sublimation will not return
until the day of the focal point,
in the city where they have
all they ever wanted,
yet here they have nothing
more than microcosm,
the rest is distraction.

Maybe they should
remain a constant.

Maybe he should
just hold her.

Maybe she should
just let herself be held.

~
Damocles Apr 16
Black alley cat,
Strutting down the walkway under the red light
Where are you headed tonight?

Pur in a stranger’s lap
For the taste of milk and honey
You’re the buyer's choice for affection
And you’re getting off on the attention.

Dig your claws into the satin,
Go on and meow out to the moon
When you’ve gotten your fix
You can go on to the next,
Feline sway in your swagger
You’re playing loose with your life.

One down and eight to go,
As you slide down the pole
Back onto the catwalk
You are brazen and bold.

Bewitch them with your hazel eyes
And bat at their souls,
You’re just a black alley cat
Strutting down the walkway under the red light
Don’t know where you’re headed.

But it’s been such a long, long night
Return to where your bed is,
All the catnip and the money won’t save you
Can’t replace the shame that outweighs you
Fur down to the floor as you’re singing a sad tune,
Was it worth it?

Black alley cat,
Strutting down the walkway under the red light
Where are you headed tonight?

Black alley cat,
Don’t break curfew,
Can’t keep you from your delights
But if the dogs can’t stay astray
I fear one may chew you up and leave you
Under the red light, in this alleyway
Crying out to the moon.
This is something I wrote while playing the guitar. I was thinking of the song "Roxanne" and all of the *** workers downtown trying to chase happiness or a fix.
Damocles Apr 13
Chasing Sera Tonin
But she’s too far to reach.
Legs are gelatin, blood loss adrenaline
Need to feel whole again,
Call out with an SOS, there’s-
A man down needing his medicine.

There you go again,
Chasing Sera Tonin
Needle hits the record
Repeating the patterns.
Time slows to a stalled crawl
As eyes roll back and it feels like
Every atom is a bomb when the veins go
Exploding for a bit of her glow.

You’re a dope I mean,
Really look at you in that mirror,
Does it ever reflect a person you recognize
Or is the vision never getting clearer?
Chasing Sera Tonin,
Nasal passages cut from granules
Brain feeling the weight of -
Everything intangible,
Will the narcan angels flash their neon
Just to give you your wings?

Send out the SOS
Oh, there’s a man,
He needs his medicine

Chasing Sera Tonin
You’ll never catch her,
You’re a dope I mean,
And you won’t receive her
With polluted receptors
More of a societal commentary on junkies and addicts in general..all chasing after serotonin but not realizing the things they are addicted to is keeping them further and further away from happy.
There was a couple vacationing in Mexico
***** and Beau
They are all about animals and nature
After a street artist did their caricature
They decided to go for a walk on the beach
When ***** looked out at the water she gave a screech
There in the small distance was a little dog drowning
No one on the beach cared, which had Beau & ***** frowning
Beau rushed in & saved the little guy
Glad that the dog didn’t die
They took him back to their cabin to dry
And get him fed
***** decided to call him Ted
He even slept with them in their bed
When they would take him for a walk
The Mexican people gave them a look of shock
And would start to low talk
The vacation was coming to an end
But they couldn’t part with Ted he was their friend
So they decided to take him back with them
But he needed to see a vet first before he could come
They took him to a vet who went nuts & kicked them out
Which left them wondering, what the hell was that all about?
They tried another vet, who saw Ted
After looking at him, the vet said
“I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this Mr & Mrs Schemata”
“But that's not a dog, that's an enorme rata!”

Based On An Urban Legend
Based On An Urban Legend
Damocles Apr 1
Following the tracks,
I pick up the scent of everything that attracts hate.
The smell is pungent and bitter, like a rotten apple.
But I’m going hunting; I’m the hunter.

It’s a watershed moment when the villains rouse their cheers.
A paradigm is built from the ruins of fallen heroes.

They sing their songs,
Praising the things they’ve razed with their iron shackles,
Honed with a need to peck the bone.
They scavenge off the sick and mad.

But I’m the hunter, and I’m going hunting.
I follow in shadows,
Watching with purpose.
Should the city cry out,
I’ll bring the game.

Feed a future—
Full of the fruit of the garden.
Wearing snake skin,
I’m alive in the light of enlightenment.
And I’m a hunter, and I’m going hunting.
neth jones Mar 25
applause of pigeons lifting   a cluttered company
they high circle hurt  between winter stark          
apartments brittle      and settle in braver             
perch and concrete sill
 frosted  but in the sun
17/03/25 (aprox date of original observation and notes)
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