"bakeries" poems
I could run away to you, world.
drink in your every scent, the dust
the hurt.
backpedal through Venetian streets,
high-five Buddhist monks,
paddle softly through the Dead Sea,
eat Vietnamese fish with blind children,
pound out piles of dough in back-alley German bakeries,
kiss the single root of an aspen tree
and post it all online.
grinning like a devil, silently screaming
*my life is better than yours
my life is better than yours*
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 12:14 PM UTC
Urban Community Living:
Some days I actually noticed how grey it was
All of this space, here around us
As our half-beaten stone trodden 52 bus
Rolls into its unfortunate terminus.
Terminal more like.
The shops have boarded windows,
Bakeries have bullet-proof counters
Staffed by bulky bakers-cum-bouncers
A praised underground centre for perilous shopping
Dodge rival factions on various floors
Fighting for stair supremacy
And burly painted girls with latent spent applause
Some colour on the underpass is some relief
Only it warns of impending doom
for someone soon
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 10:17 AM UTC
there is something
damningly ******
about sitting in a
walmart parking lot
waiting for your
family to stop buying.
to stop bloodsucking.
(local delis, local bakeries, they're dying!)
(WHY do you shop there??)
(i won't go in ... )
i daren't give them my money,
my two cents,
a sideways eye.
(only my father agrees w/me)
---what else to do, then, but read, facing away in the car.
truly the worst of the box stores
springing like mushrooms from holy dirt,
shooting like bamboo on
the outskirts of any
[even slightly] metropolized
town or hamlet.
(---good Lord i need mountain forests!!)
Nov 1, 2011
Nov 1, 2011 at 11:42 AM UTC
The day I left, I forgot to pack self-consciousness.
It was all too easy to reach into the mirror
and pull out my imperfections like saltwater taffy.
Then I ate them.
I wondered as I boarded the plane,
I wondered why my hands weren’t clenched in unrevealing fists,
I wondered why my eyes didn’t flicker to the person
behind me in front of me to my left to my right over here over there.
Perhaps my eyes were now focused on the clouds above and new lands below.
The day I left, I neglected to pack loneliness.
I roamed a new city, so alive, my lungs made room for more crisp
cigarette-infused air and I sat on the steps of a grand opera hall for hours
watching people walk, talk, listen, look, shop, love, learn, pretend, remember.
I understood why my arms did not ache
from the strain of carrying this lonesomeness,
I understood why there was so much beauty
in being a person submerged among thousands of people.
I realized it was a privilege I had been abusing for far too long.
The day I left, I refused to pack fear.
It unsettled my stomach and dampened most of the fun.
I left it there, tucked and stowed neatly away under my plane seat,
sending it back to where I came from and hoping
that the flight attendants would do a thorough cleaning.
I realized why some people got lost on purpose,
that there was fearlessness in not knowing
your north from south from west from east.
The day I came back, I carried
another missing piece of my vagabond heart.
I found it drifting in the strains of a street musician’s Vivaldi,
found it etched into the wooden signs above cafes and bakeries
found it in the spitting passion of lips and linguistics.
I recognized the part of me that was scattered across continents
and I brought it back home.
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 2:58 PM UTC
In Chinatown it is busy
Bikes go real fast down streets that are dark, covered with crumpled up chinese newspapers and what looks like the aftermath of a thousand party poppers
Colored paper that slowly disappears into the wind as the day goes on
An old man is wearing a sign on his chest
He speaks of anger towards the Japanese
How they have not rightfully paid China back for all the damage and heartbreak they caused in wars past
In Chinatown it is different
The air is soft, but the area is buzzing with people
I sit down at one of the bakeries
Here I am at peace
Here, although there is no one to talk to in english
I feel listened to
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 10:03 PM UTC
Numbers on the back of your hand
A metal mental breakdown
"I go to bakeries all day long, there's a lack of sweetness in my life"
And the nights get colder and colder
Bodies get hotter and hotter
The full moon is never as exciting as the last one
Past one, almost two
Three, four, five, find something to do
Call the boys, call your girls
Sunday is funday, and Thursdays are my Fridays
Inhale fast to make it last
This is the best part of the song
Oct 6, 2013
Oct 6, 2013 at 8:33 PM UTC
*Outside my window, lays a world to wonder and explore
from the kissing couples to the newborn babies
from the opera house to the art museum
from the candy shops to the freshly baked bakeries
the list goes on and on....
from sunrise to sunset, there's so much to explore
it's a pity, that we can't explore it all.....*
Aug 18, 2016
Aug 18, 2016 at 5:27 PM UTC
i've been awake since 6am
i'm running on two and a half hours of sleep
i've been on the road since 7am
and i'm writing this at 1pm
i'm thinking about greggs sausage rolls
thinking about where i'm going in life
thinking about when this road will end
thinking about slowthai's yugioh cards
thinking about how much i love frank ocean
thinking about how i interpolate milo lyrics to fit my life
though i probably couldn't tell you what his words mean
thinking about how i drift from one person to the next
desperately searching for a new friend to cling to
thinking about why i didn't shave my face
for two weeks i was scared that with a blade in reach
i'd be tempted to slice my throat
if i drowned, would my body float?
thinking about how i should cut my hair
thinking about how i can act cuter
thinking about that coil girlfriend
but maybe i'll go for a boy instead
i burned my mouth on a greggs sausage roll again
so it looks like it's all going to plan
sometimes i view greggs as a temple
and the sausage roll is my zen master
i find solace in cheap british bakeries
just like how i find peace in a black man's philosophies
today i'll get my groceries from the nostrum grocers
and write poems at the apex of my sleepiness
this road is only going one way
and i can't go back to pick up the pieces
so i collect what i can to stitch together a new tapestry
made out of the few remaining pieces of the old me
maybe one day driver will say i have perfect hair
thinking about how excited i am to read tallen's messages on discord
it's nice hearing about his l5r discourse
thinking about how i promised to deliver instrumentals for quetzal
but i never did get started on them
thinking about my friend gabe's new album
and how i wish i had richard dawson's falsetto
and how i wish someone would hug me
but if i admitted that, that'd feel pretty needy of me
i don't know when this road will end
maybe i'm stuck on here forever
immortalised in the asphalt like a dead bird
approach me like you would your dad hanging in trafalgar square
i used to smile in every selfie
now it's a chore to smirk at all
but it ain't all bad
i might make curry on saturday
or maybe i'll make chicken soup
and it'll be better than hers
because i'll make sure to remove the bones
Sep 14, 2019
Sep 14, 2019 at 5:08 PM UTC
Dulling mind in comments and commas
And introspective melodramas
Draperies
And Cakeries
Rhyming what should be Bakeries
And taketh me
To a different place than this
With super-human strength
And sub-human lips
Crisp
Diner-level chatter
In the back of the mad Gavel's
Hatter
White Matter
And flow of the rainbow
Falls
Let's hike for five miles
And lie for seven
I wish you well
More than I'd wish you hell
But I'd wish both to no one
And I'd wish the latter even less
Than the bestest guest's guess
bag
Beer goggles to the hags
And rags on the bar stools
Cleaning up the bar fools'
leftover lunches
Left on hunches
Atop 4 long legs
Reaching up about 4 feet high
To allow patrons
to reach the bar
to tell stories
about long lost
loves
friendships
dogs
And country music
That some hate
And some love
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 4:57 PM UTC
Go out and search for yourself.
Find small pieces of you in the veins of a friend
Or inside the forest.
Find your soul sprinkled in some foreign city
Miles away from home
Or in your backyard
Mingling among the flowers.
Search for the bakeries
That call your name from within
Or the stranger that smiles at you as you pass.
Search yourself out;
There, you will find, is the purest reflection of you.
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 9:47 PM UTC
When you are all done for the day,
And u end it with a small prayer.
When the birds fly back to their nests,
Seek shelter and take some rest.
When the busy streets are empty,
Closed are all bakeries and pantries.
When the skies turn dark,
Sails in the moon in its cloudy ark.
You buzz off to the land of peace,
No worries full of ease,
No joy no pain!
No loss no gain!
~Farheen zehra
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 3:37 AM UTC
Angels and cancer
Two TOTALLY dIfFeReNt things
My world
C
O
L
L
A
P
S
E
D
when you died
My lungs stopped breathing and my heart beating
I miss just sitting watching Wheel Of Fortune or Jeopardy
with you stroking my hair
I miss going to the bakeries
and pretty much E V E R Y W H E R E
I still have your bracelets
and wore them on my birthday
They make me feel closetoyou
and not so far a w a y
When I see angels, chickens, bakeries, or antique shops
I feel comfort and see you
I really hope you know that even though we're apart,
I still really love you
This letter is for my Grandma Liz
and I hope she knows how much we miss her
I still have her angels but
her love will always be more than a
w
h
i
s
p
e
r
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 4:14 PM UTC
It's the day after
I've spent the memories on other things
I sat at a candled table
eased into wicker chairs
with plush cushions
and cigarette smoke coiling into the humid air.
I-among others- wet our tongues on sweet wine
and sampled crumbled cake from antique bakeries
sipped steaming tea from tin kettles
and laughed as coins jingled in our pockets
and happiness jostled against our souls.
I spent the day after
not thinking about that hurt
but rather forgetting for a while
that just the day before
you had fallen far
in my estimations.
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 4:35 AM UTC
1.
A young and spiky boy misheard me over a pile of handcrafted valentines and said "I love you, too"
("I think I broke my tooth")
2.
A pseudo-intellectual boy grabbed at my hand and told me that we are all made of stardust, that the universe is swift and fleeting and our matter will remain etched in the very high and infinite heavens
(But do you know that I myself am made of moon dust and rose petals, laced with arsenic?)
3.
A not-very-lonely boy bought me a grilled cheese sandwich at the witching hour that he paid for with his dead father's inheritance money
(Money that I dipped in ranch dressing and inhaled in the form of a black American Spirit)
4.
A boy with jawbones made of steel called me in the middle of the night to tell me that he was nothing but a very weak and ancient stone foundation and what is the most effective method of destruction
(I told him I'd trade in my metal detector for a plane ticket to Egypt)
5.
A semi-dependent variable of a boy I had known years ago flew a kite for me in a cold and cloudless sky and hit me til I kissed him
("It's because we're getting older", I said)
6.
A boy who I might have loved named our children on the back of a game of hangman and hung up magazine pictures I stole on walls his girlfriend was more familiar with than she was with me
(I switched seats)
7.
A boy of questionable moral fiber said words I spent two years trying to say back
(One-sixteenth of them are buried in a box I'm all too willing to leave at the old house)
8.
A boy with eyes uncovered in countless concentration camps left after filling the gaps in my very sheltered universe with vegan bakeries, baseball tees, leftover curry and one-sock feet
(But I digress)
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 8:38 PM UTC
i want to wake up to the sound of an accordion playing on the quiet cobblestone streets and have the heat of the Mediterranean sun kiss my skin as i walk into a local coffee shop and order a chocolate biscotti i want to walk the cobblestone streets of Venice and visit little bakeries and as the night falls i want to sit under an olive tree outside under the moonlight and drink dry red wine with the love of my life
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 9:19 PM UTC
“Why do you want it all from me?”
*I halt our conversation,
with wine redder than my boney elbows
in a glass tipped at swollen, drunk lips.
Hesitation knows me best;
my breath laps heady from my throat
and I blush from exhaustion & fear.*
“I am okay without it all. I don’t need anything from anyone.” I tell these lies often. You say nothing back. You've none to give.
*What is all! But an eternity’s worth of want, a list
of things cherished and bought in bakeries
or vacation homes, empty until wanted...*
that wine sat in my belly and warmed it
I didn’t drink water
I didn’t need it
I wanted much from you that night
the milk of conversation would never be enough
I wanted the soul, the songs, the sight of your eyes inches from mine illuminated by morning’s soft gracious dawn.
I wanted a ******* miracle to eat.
All, was something I never enumerated in you,
simply assumed, and realized soon after how
I would never succumb to wanting too much.
And now my plate lies empty.
I gave all I gathered to appease you;
you, and the trepidation you carried sea to sea.
I should’ve explained my red want.
How it was dried and mistaken for a cranberry,
how I lacked the effort to show you more, all
I craved all. But I found you had none to share.
Mar 6, 2021
Mar 6, 2021 at 7:44 PM UTC
the morning is kind...
silence fills the empty streets
where drunken people like sailors
once roamed,
now they sleep soundly
with the early breeze cradling them
bakeries and flower shops open,
the mailmen and delivery girls
make their way through quiet neighbourhoods,
the early birds rise
with a vision of coffee and breakfast,
and the sunlight is gentle on the skin—
go outside or sit by the window to feel it.
it kisses you,
inviting you start the daw anew.
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 7:49 PM UTC
As the morning sun cleared
the mist above the fields
harrowed with precision,
as cars hurried their servants
to serve,
as trains were running late,
and bakeries were busy,
a uniformed procession of capped men
and neatly trimmed women gathered
outside a tawny little church
in a sleepy little town
known for its irrelevance;
A serviceman expired here,
this last night of winter.
Whether from illness or old age,
gradually or
in a flash of chaos,
his mirror admits no more
the faces of those who shared his world,
and have now come to congress
and to remain
in the feasting sun of this first day of spring.
As blackbirds hush and tickle bush,
as more cars wiggle and park,
as naked trees pretend to still being naked,
crows flap around the tower that begins
a-belling,
and as pedestrians gaze after passing cars,
the mourners follow the bells into the church,
where they splash in thin silence
and scented air,
and stained glass admits the light of the world in,
as if through closed eyelids.
Apr 24, 2019
Apr 24, 2019 at 5:10 AM UTC
Faded memories of smells and sights,
Hot, dry land and precious laughter
filling humid air like smoke
I breathe and I remember
the beauty of that other world
Markets of meat and strange food
Neighbours who knew me but I’ve not a clue
Who they are or how they know
the beauty of this other world
Where next?
Across the world again we go
another place I cease to know
Unknown air I used to breathe
Heavy feet in the snow
Bakeries and small cafes
Icy air and chilling days
A speck of dust in a city so large
I was lost in the beauty
the beauty of this other world
Aug 28, 2014
Aug 28, 2014 at 8:17 AM UTC
Elaborately interesting Eagle-eyed lover, you are my heart and soul today.
Let us dance, swishing hips and leaning close, leaving behind all feelings of regret and escape into our own multiverse once more.
Let our lips touch and make waves crash, let our close proximity cause sparks to roar to flame, let our touch form paths that lead to paradise.
Let us share love like potlucks or make it like bakeries. Let us know intimacy like we know the pledge or feel it like caressing.
Let’s be one.
Let me have your heart and give you mine, I don’t mind an even trade. I’ll be gentle and you’ll be consistent, we both have what we need and exactly what we want.
I want you.
And I know you desire e as well, so let’s make desired passion a passion that we both know, a passion that we both bring.
Nov 9, 2015
Nov 9, 2015 at 11:21 AM UTC
William Wisconsin Williams,
Thomas, Jason Tom, Germany,
France, Italy and International
Music Support System.
Kulm, Dallas and Thomas Palton?
Animals and Pets 9 and Animals.
My cards (1200). Star 1 Star
July, Germany, Artist, Selection,
Voice, Music, Anyone who sinks,
white, sexually, brain, gold, men,
Fire Out Fake, ANPR Banner
All things are in Austria, Kenya,
Kenya. All stars, poets, poets
and poets. Men's shoes, men
and women, men's shoes, clothes,
e yes, e yes, e yes, e yes;
store and garden. Dude Friends,
Parks, Cats, Jinnies. William
Wisconsin Williams, Thomas,
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and Pets 9 and Animals.
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star rating July, Germany,
Artist Selection,
Voice, Music, Anyone
who sinks is white, ****** brain,
gold men, Fire or Fake, Anne Baxter!
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All stars, poets, poets and poets.
Men's Bikinis, Football Ball, White,
Black and White. Men's, Men's
Clothing, Children's Eyes, Bakeries
& Gardens. Cycling details, love, youth,
entertainment, songs and designs.
William Wisconsin Williams, Thomas,
Jason Tom, Germany, France, Italy
and international music support system.
Kulm, Dallas and Thomas Palton?
Animals and pets 9 and animals.
My cards (1200). Star 1 Star
July, Germany, performer, selection,
Voice, music, everyone who sinks,
white, ****** brain, gold, man,
Fire Out Fake, ANPR Banner
It's all in Austria, Kenya, Kenya.
All stars, poets, poets and poets.
Men's shoes, men and women,
men's shoes, clothing, eyes, eyes,
shop and garden. Friends,
Parks, cats, Jinnies. William Wisconsin
Williams, Thomas, Jason Tom, Germany,
France, Italy and international music
Support system. Kulm, Dallas
and Thomas Palton? Animals
and pets 9 and animals.
Death Hello Card (2100). Five stars,
star July, Germany, performer, choice,
Voice, music, everyone who sinks,
white, ****** brain, gold, men,
Lose the fake Anne Baxter!
It's all in Austria, Kenya, Kenya.
All stars, poets, poets and poets.
Men's bikini, soccer ***** white,
Black and white. Men's, men's clothing,
Children, eyes, bakery and gardens.
Bicycle details, love, youth,
entertainment, songs and models.
Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 7:13 AM UTC
The Social MePhone Justice Commandos of Toxic Doom
In the unending quest for social justice
Schoolroom shootings, unisex bakeries
Tornados, a steak, a snake, get off the plane
They’re all the same to the Omigod cult:
“Omigod Omigod Omigod O
Migod Omigod Omigod Omi
God Omigod Omigod Omigod
Omigod Omigod Omigod O!
“Chapsnat bookface tubeyou my relationship
It’s complicated Omigod Omi”
Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 7:39 PM UTC
there is nothing but pain and pity.
in the alleyways of my mind, i walk with an umbrella in my right hand.
the rain falls from the sky in teardrops with the force of God's sorrow.
we are nearing supper, the local bakeries and parlors shutting down, lights flickering off at God's finger snap.
it amazes me that i can jump over puddles and yet still drown in my own despair.
i can barely see a glimpse of the moon, but i know it watches me, watches the kids in the playground dance to the thunder.
like me, it keeps quiet, as if there is so much to think about. that's not exactly wrong.
but in the dark alleyways of my mind, there is not much to think about.
there is only a girl fighting the winds and the skies with an umbrella. there is nothing but pain and pity.
God watches me like i'm his child, but i only know two guardians—
pain,
pity.
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 4:23 AM UTC