"airconditioned" poems
I have never seen a happier face
than his
and he was dirt poor
ignorant
or was he
came right out the mountains stinking
as bad as any badger or ****
had dirt caked from months
not bathing
and his smile was great as Mona Lisa's
happy and I reflected
in his lingering
essence
long after his smell left
out the airpipes airconditioned stuffy
surrounds I had become
encumbered with
May 13, 2017
May 13, 2017 at 6:59 AM UTC
To taste the red burst of rippened tomatoes
that catch a summer's glee whose
shouts run down airconditioned malls of daffodils
to reach butterscotch ends
To catch naive dewdrops on their final wave
-- gleeful regardless of their fleeting demise
on leaffy budettes as they hitchhike on blushing shins
that touch for just a second
To receive the cricket's call
and hang on their every word like
how the stars do on the night sky velvet
hung taut to stop the dreamer's upward freefall
To reverbrate down hymns
and ***** pipes whose rust subdued
by caramel oaken spirits and
cigars rolled with rebellion
To watch the twinkle of eyes
that unroll before me cinemated
like the rhythmic popping of corn seeds
and the anticipation of childlike hands
To surf the last yawn and sigh
whose ebb and flow crash on
pristine beds -- that soothes and prickles the ears
where the mind remains calm and restless
To sit with 4am and drink
tea or coffee (whichever it desires)
and have hours of conversation before
its teary depature
To the pilgrims' call of the first train
The satisfaction of staying vigil
simmers in the insomniac's stovetop
that seems to be low on gas
The need of slumber seems trivial at most
for dreaming has never known the diffrence
between being awake or asleep
or could this just be my mind that flurries
like jackrabbit thumps and heffalump nightmares
and honey dripping down my boyish chin
and mother napkins and lush lullabies
that whisper "go to sleep"
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 8:14 AM UTC
Wavering heat lays atop the black asphalt
and it rolls
Bending and shaping the hardened tar
Summer hurts your eyes
and your lungs
as scalding warmth is drawn in
You taste the chlorine pools as you walk past them
and feel the thunderstorms forming on the tip of your tongue
It is a mixture of pressure and anticipation
But it is nothing compared to the smell
of someone walking in from being outside
The cool airconditioned air mixed with
the heat
the sweat
like a silvery metallic
and salt.
May 25, 2018
May 25, 2018 at 7:22 PM UTC