"astor" poems
On a Wednesday morning, clear and calm,
I went to Astor Place
and had a gypsy read my palm
or maybe just my face.
She said my heart was heavy
and my head was stuffed with lies.
But things like that weren't on my hand,
they hid behind my eyes.
The room is dull and dank and cold but at
least I have a hand to hold.
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 3:40 PM UTC
Upper East Side
The Hamptons
Aspen, Colorado
The plastic people
Follow each other
Moving in herds
Like cattle to the
Slaughter
Drifting
Floating
Shifting focus
From one charity event
To another
Whatever’s trendy
Whatever’s fashionable
Whatever’s happ’ning
Whatever’s the need
Tainted new artists
Society’s rejects
The film-maker who fits in with
The flavor of the month
The disease or the cause
That captures the moment
Stigmas overlooked
Deformities relieved
By one hyper exertion
By one pseudo good deed
Changing bedrooms
Changing partners
New alliances
Noblesse oblige
Mrs. Astor’s
Four hundred
Reinvented forever
Reinvented with fervor
On the edge
Of hypocrisy
Keeping up with the Jones’s
Maintaining the houses
Paris, Rome, Cote du Jura
Malibu, Palm Beach
Couture fashion
Madison, Rodeo
Worth avenues united
Avenues of the liege
Location, location, location
The right address unspoken
Dinner in the right places
Sporting events to be seen
Three martini luncheons
Halcion evenings
Business is business
Where money’s retrieved
Look to plastic people
For fashionable guidance
No matter the moment
No matter the need
Remember to catch them
While jetting to Santa Barbara
Saint Maarten, San Troupe
San Marco, warp speed
They live in their milieu
Can’t function outside it
Can’t follow a shadow
That others believe
It’s easy to find them
They leave behind footprints
But barely a mem’ry
Or singular creed
Other than finding
The latest in fashion
The latest persona
Or new plastic breed
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 8:19 AM UTC
Went for a cruise on the maiden ship Titanic,
A wonderful ship everyone said would be epic
I was not scared because it was unsinkable
To be in fear would for me be unthinkable
Wanted to sail far away to another land
Where my life, I think could be quite grand
Unpacking my suitcase in a luxurious liner
This is the one yacht that could not be finer.
Passengers enjoyed dinner, dancing, and other entertainments.
All the days of the trip they would enjoy the embellishments
I heard that people like Astor, Guggenheim Straus, Thayer and Gordon
Would be on this ship including Stead, Fulrelle, Gibson and Morgan
On April 14, 1912 I was that evening returning to my room
Walking down the corridor I heard a deafening boom
Went to find an RMS crew member
When I was told on deck to assemble
He handed me a life jacket just in case
And to get in the lifeboat because there was space
Passengers were lowered down by the crew
The first little boat had just a few
A man started quickly paddling our tiny boat
Once far away he stopped and we would just float
Everyone watched as we heard screaming, crying and yelling
Amongst the chaos we heard music and saw the flares flying
In the early hours of April 15, the ship’s lights flickered out and then went straight up vertical
We all heard the moans of the iron and watched it break in half and it sank uncontrollable
From quite a distance I saw an ocean of people
Out in the middle of the sea, no one felt hopeful
Soon there was no sound
As we all looked around
Shivering crying and wondering
If we are going to live or die pondering
published in the Crawfordsville, Indiana newspaper
Copyright 2013
All Rights Reserved
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 3:55 PM UTC
The city sounds like the muted trumpet beats of a the nineteen year old protege.
Who is sitting in the shadow of the black cube sculpture on Astor Place.
There's a sixteen year old waiting for the subway,
She is singing alone, to You Make Me Feel So Young, while her absent-minded mother snaps along.
Tonight she will relive the boys she has known, who have held her waist and kissed her mouth and
She won't feel anything because
she is unconsciously dancing to the trumpet music and jazz playing around her in Washington Square.
Aug 8, 2011
Aug 8, 2011 at 7:54 AM UTC
this astor
ravenous bird.
preying,
tangling,
lovers' hearts
dramatically,
passionately:
dis-ASTOR-ously.
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 10:45 PM UTC
When you get there
I wonder, will it be sunny
Or cloudy?
Will the streets breathe mist
The way I've always heard they do?
When you get there,
Will that strange light kiss your face
As tenderly as the sun does here?
It better love you right, London air.
When you get there
I wonder
Will there ever be a moment or two
As you wander down unfamiliar roads and lanes,
When you can feel me missing you?
I think all cities, all across the world,
Have some sort of connection,
Like a spiderweb of light
Netted over a cerulean marble.
I hope London will love you
Like I know my city loves you
(because I do and we love alike, New York and I)
Maybe I'll try my hand at a transmission overseas,
Like a telegram
But with feelings.
Maybe I'll go to my city
When you get to London- the very day-
And stand beneath the clock tower down at Astor Place
(where I first saw the city sky)
And wonder, like my five year old self did, if it looks anything at all
Like Big Ben.
Maybe I'll stand there and say hello to you,
As if my city will send a whisper
Halfway around the world
On the wind
To yours.
And if I do that
Who knows-
Maybe it really will
Get there.
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 3:24 AM UTC
The time machine was just a dream and
never real at all and
the unravelling of this travelling tale,over coffee,
under sail upon the ocean known as 'fail'
is one big disappointment to me.
I wanted to be there in Red Square when the flags came down,I
wanted to dance with Nancy Astor,
wanted to watch the disasters of wars,
watch Beethoven sweat over scores.
What a waste to be given a taste and have it taken away,
you say,
'yesterday is gone'
I think it's waiting somewhere to mess up our hair and blow through
the streets like it did once before,
one day we'll open the door and let it back in,
it's all in the mixing,
this fixing of time and
one day
today
the machine will be mine.
Aug 30, 2014
Aug 30, 2014 at 5:00 AM UTC
*I wrote this in November and was not happy with it;
"
I heard passion on the streets of New York City
the sea foam of the sky hanging on the Persian shield watching over us
the gloaming brings retrospect
the healthy green pendant of the six train matches the bushes in the square
in Little Ukraine
it is dark
we bounce as we step
I know when I move I will
be on my own
she tells me she hears yelling. is it happy exclamation or anger
I don't know. I say. I don't know"*
12/25/2016
On the sidestreets of Little Ukraine
men smoked cigarettes and said pryvit
and KNL said it's because you look slavic
but i'm pennsylvania dutch! i laugh
shoofly pie, not sochniki
off the 33rd street stop
and it was getting to be dark out
the sky heliotrope and true blue
I heard a noise
did you hear that too? I say to her
It was angry or happy? she asks, more like states
I don't know, all i said.
*But it's passion.
It's passion.
On the streets of new york city. That would make a good poem, right?*
Dec 25, 2016
Dec 25, 2016 at 2:47 PM UTC
Hi
Hey :)
What's up ?
Just on a dinner date w my parents
That's really awesome
When you get home can we talk
About what!
I don't know I'm just in a weird mood sorry if I'm bugging you
No no no astor I'll be home soon
Thanks so much
Sorry to bug you are you home yet
I'm on the way home right now baby what's up?
I dont know I'm just sad
About what little one
I just fall on people so easily and it's never returned, and that's one thing but at the same time I'm always used but never wanted
I don't know I'm just being dumb
Baby girl you are so loved. And you're not dumb at all! Are you sad about Elise?
Kinda but more than that I look at people like you and her and I see people so wonderful and beautiful no one wants me except for nudes
astor sweetheart love is so fickle, but I promise you on my whole heart that it will find you. You are smart and important and beautiful and worth so much love, you just gotta wait for it to find you. Lovely child I swear to you
How can that be true though not as good at people think I am, and I'm a ****** still
Virginity is overrated and it doesn't even exist
You are so good! And you're so little you have so much time
I'm sorry you feel lonely let me hold you
I'm just being dumb and whiny, but like it just feels like ever single one of my friends has done things and people on hell think of me as a little weird girl
I Just want to be wanted
I feel you astor, I wish I could give you a whole world full of boyfriends and girlfriends and support and love
That's you. But I jut want someone just for a little while to love me
I know I'm not the best looking person out there but I want someone to love me even for a minute
I promise you you will have that experience!!
Sorry that was an accident
And idk no one has ever really wante d me
Sorru
Don't be sorry astor. I'm here for you girls
I'm just really nervous
Thank toy so might
You're so amazing
You are baby it's all you
No actually I can't believe that I am even talking to you right now youre amazing
Shhhh shh
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 10:30 AM UTC
Monday Morning
When I opened the kitchen door the fridge had an attack of the shakes
then feel into dejected stillness which bayed in my ears.
To break this force of nothingness I spoke and sounded like a duck and
the beer bottle held in my clammy hand fell
with a foamy splash on the floor; wordless
Fear…why me?
The fridge rattled again but there was nothing of worth on its shelves other than bacon, eggs, cheese…Stop, I feel sick.
Turned on the tap and fat maggots dropped into my glass, that too ended
on the floor; fled, outside people, starred at me because
I was dressed in a red bathrobe with Hotel Astor stamped on the back.
Jul 1, 2017
Jul 1, 2017 at 7:59 AM UTC
I heard passion on the streets of New York City
the sea foam of the sky hanging on the Persian shield watching over us
the gloaming brings retrospect
the healthy green pendant of the six train matches the bushes in the square
in Little Ukraine
it is dark
we bounce as we step
I know when I move I will
be on my own
she tells me she hears yelling. is it happy exclamation or anger
I don't know. I say. I don't know
Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 8:37 PM UTC
cuando astor frederick murió
plegó alitas y dejó sobre todo sus penas
y como un brillo o resplandor
que lo seguía en el entierro
ni perro ni hombre ni mujer ni gato seguían su cajón
por la calle dorada en la mañana de mayo paciente
pero sí el brillo o resplandor
como cantándole cantándole
decía el brillo "astor frederick se va por aquí
al país donde todos se reúnen
sigo las huellas de sus pies besándolas
pero él ya nunca estará solo"
decía el brillo "astor frederick ya nunca más se apenará
de pueblo en pueblo y por alturas su joven corazón
marcará el paso de las lunas
se comerá flores que mueren"
ojalá ojalá repetían los arcos las piedras podridas de la calle
las pieles de la calle meciéndose por donde
astor frederick sus restos los restos de su dentadura etc
pasaban a gloria mayor
¡ah frederick en la cajita!
lo empaquetaron mucho para siempre
y aunque él no quisiese otra cosa que amor como abrigo o fortín
es como si faltara
la tierra del cementerio de Oak
se lo comió casi por todas
menos las manos eso sí
apoyadas la una en la otra
del silencio que astor frederick hizo
creció una pájara de viento que le volteaba el corazón
menos el brillo o resplandor
cala del mundo mundo mismo
y esta es la historia de astor frederick ea
ninguna pus paloma o reventón se alzaba nunca de sus nuncas
menos las manos eso sí
apoyada la una en la otra
406
she walked along the avenue of Park
and Fifth street alone
with her parasol
a wool skirt down to her
ankles
past the Astor
past the Innocence
of her aspiring expensive tastes
her watching the others
buying happiness
she just visited
the showcases
walked slower in Greenwich Village
remembering the review
she read in Forbe's magazine
feeling so close
yet alone
Jul 11, 2017
Jul 11, 2017 at 1:37 AM UTC