"bronx" poems
The Jewish brothers in Defiance were definitely tough.
One wanted to **** many Germans, the other to save many Jews.
The German soldiers were expendable, unmarried, unremarkable.
Each little death was very little, a little spittle in a big wind.
Fast forward to my friend's son's bar mitzvah or daughter's
coming of age ceremony. Food is abundant, the music frenetic,
the rabbi paid. Gifts generous but not obvious.
Wealth does not obviate death and we know it.
Here too we have natural leaders. Youth basketball coaches,
school principals and, again, interpreters of prayers. When
violence comes to the neighborhood they are who we'll first look to
for governance and guns. Unless have you read The Admirable
Crichton?
Boredom, boredom conflated with loneliness, may be a sign
of good luck. To live a good length or light year away from man's
bad breath, allergenic perfumes, sickening flatulence and shed hair.
But you are drawn back into the debate about perfection by your own
********
While teaching at the old city jail I have learned this: only meditation
upon the periodic table can save your soul. From itself.
Imagining the world without the self will make you whole.
What else is there to say. Do less until one thing's done well.
After the war the brothers started a small trucking company
in the Bronx. Grateful for such peace, the accounting
was relaxing. They thought back to how they met their wives, naked
before the bombs and bullets. How they lost and found themselves in
what happened.
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 4:19 PM UTC
“where time is the fly and age the fisher of men”
<>
*”until I fell forward
into fall where time is
the fly and age the fisher
of men, then when winter
begins all will be forgotten,
where time is the fly and
age the fisher of men”*
excerpt from “The Fall” by Rick Richardson
<>
that words from a different ionic state, jump as embodied ions from screen to the throat, evicting a guttural current of exclamation, you believe even with the half-heartedly palpitations from remainder of my damaged pumping heart, that these words were always intended, just for me…
boy and old man coexist, the pottage of memories stirred,
and the time is fly, and I drown in the miracle of greenest grass of
Yankee Stadium at age eight,
oasis, heaven, a child reborn in a sea of Bronx concrete,
and the swallowing up of my boyhood is forever marked henceforth, the hook has caught me, and I am of the age
once and forever
not a fisherman, but a fisher of men’s souls,
mine own is my best bait,
hooked line and sinker, and
wisdom and words
elude and delude always,
like summer is perpetual and aging a construct,
time does not fly, but slowly laps and waves
eroding our myths and ourselves upon a continuum with
no ends
~postscript~
<>
*yet I believe,
in miracles of
fish and loaves,
and that our individual continuums
will exist beyond the artifice of constraints
of
mortal time and that poems are
the forever chemicals within
our
bloodstreams,
even when our blood no longer spills*
yet I believe!
Sep 6, 2023
Sep 6, 2023 at 7:57 AM UTC
Lily Kesha Gump
Sittin' on the curb of Bronx and Main Street
How I wish I could wrap my arms around you
Sweet little lady, lookin’ grown with a picture of her mama’s stare frozen on her face
Wrists slung through the spaces of her thighs, waiting for a daydream
And she sees me as I’m twirling by in my ruby reds and thigh high leather grace
There you go darlin,
She says to me
Scoring on my indigo smile
She bites men to sleep
With the crevices of her curves
As her voice weakens wicked
she pulls me out of my gloom
There you go darlin,
She says to me
With a time bomb ticking
On my pain pain pain
And the pen is in my hand
Before she even leaves my sight
I love this city
I love these women
I love their shoes
I love their smiles
Cheeky little laughs
Someone once recommended
When I was dancing under the shades of a neon lamp
From Homeless to Harvard
by a woman named Liz or Marie
Or maybe I read the title off of a screen
when I walking with Maryanne on north Peachtree street
And I remember
Lily Kesha Gump
How I wish I could wrap my arms around you
And give you the life some white woman
who doesn’t even know you
Thinks you desire.
Dec 17, 2020
Dec 17, 2020 at 12:15 PM UTC
Against too many writers of science fiction
Why did you lure us on like this,
Light-year on light-year, through the abyss,
Building (as though we cared for size!)
Empires that cover galaxies
If at the journey's end we find
The same old stuff we left behind,
Well-worn Tellurian stories of
Crooks, spies, conspirators, or love,
Whose setting might as well have been
The Bronx, Montmartre, or Bedinal Green?
Why should I leave this green-floored cell,
Roofed with blue air, in which we dwell,
Unless, outside its guarded gates,
Long, long desired, the Unearthly waits
Strangeness that moves us more than fear,
Beauty that stabs with tingling spear,
Or Wonder, laying on one's heart
That finger-tip at which we start
As if some thought too swift and shy
For reason's grasp had just gone by?
4.5k
There is a dragon in my closet
He has dark brown eyes
Pale skin
A south Bronx accent
and an affinity for breathing fire
Some people have skeletons
I have a dragon who has lived off of my insecurities,
My pain
So he's nice and fat...
When I was alone
His shadow loomed underneath the closet door
I pretended to not see it
His footsteps made the whole house shake
But I pretended not to hear it
Now I lay in bed at night with the one I love
And can no longer ignore it
Time to be my own knight in shining armor
Open the closet door
and the slay the dragon
He may be a dragon
That burns up all that is in his path
But I am a phoenix
Who rises from his destruction to become even stronger than before.
I'm going to kick his ***
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 9:39 PM UTC
Come May. Come what may.
The most significant thing today
first Monday in May
my wife six months pregnant with twins
says she’s scared what we’re getting ourselves into.
Like the time I moved into an apartment uptown
I mean way uptown, Bronx uptown, uptown
where I’d never been
bomba echoing in the airshaft
painted the walls banana yellow and moved out the next day.
Lost the deposit.
A few months later moved back to the same neighborhood,
stayed a decade.
I’m not—scared, that is—but they’re not kicking my insides out, either.
Sep 13, 2022
Sep 13, 2022 at 7:24 AM UTC
Queens is home
the Bronx is school
and the city is where I go to die, I declared to my friends.
There’s more to lose than just your wallet and virginity in that city,
it’s a world where
hot, tight, smelly underground ******** beat
faster than human hearts, and
truer than true love.
Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 12:37 AM UTC
We all want someone to hold whilst the music plays
but this is a delayed reaction to teenage hormones,
you're clutching to not-a-lot-of-nothings,
smart jeans and smart cologne, a stolen ring
from your step-father's collection tidied away,
deep, in a box under bed sheets in that drawer.
Your mum says the right one will come 'round
soon enough, but so far the results
of dressing differently have resulted in
women speaking like spray from under a van:
rainwater white noise and not a lot else;
though you're still searching, if not for you,
for your mother instead, elderly and re-married:
some else's burden, another husband to carry.
Carry out of the bottom of drunken wine glasses
and into clear meadows on weekly walks
where discussions take place, peace treaty
talks about holidays in the Mediterranean,
upon balcony ledges they'll embrace, learn
about fading stars, the history behind buildings
visit local bars to drink sober cocktails
conjured up in off-the-web smoothie makers
bought with the ambition to make a living
and help the community out.
If not now then when, your **** shouts
hiding beneath moneyed material
cut in sweat shops, washed in sweat heaps,
delivered by the sweaty mail man of the Bronx,
will women love me you'll say,
will women want a house with me, stay the night
under reclaimed, bought from thrift shop,
lights and kiss until mornings turn into weeks,
those weeks into new jobs
and before you know it, retirement plots
in allotments off Broadway?
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 7:49 AM UTC
Tiger land we got the virus
You thought animals couldn’t get it
But a tiger got it and
He was from the Bronx zoo in New York
He got it from a zookeeper
Really that it is bad
That this tiger got the virus
We should watch out for his class
That this tiger could do more than
Bite if you annoy
To every girl and boy
He could give the virus to everybody around
And the tiger doesn’t have the knowledge to wash his hands
Like the humans do
But this tiger can spread the virus
To everybody here
If they touch body, nose and ear
Tigers can spread this virus
So how are we going to
Keep this tiger in isolation
He won’t perform on social media
Cause he is a cute tiger
And god knows if a tiger could get it
He could escape and do more than
Bite our *** to death
He could spread the virus for our deaths
I rhymed death with deaths
Who cares because a tiger has the virus
And hopefully they can keep this tiger
Safe and in quarantined forever and ever
Orange and black
Keep this tiger safe
Oh yeah
Apr 5, 2020
Apr 5, 2020 at 9:43 PM UTC
Some people see the potential in you
And some don't
Many who see it are jealous
And want to destroy it or steal it for themselves
Even though they can't have it
Because it's not meant for them
Some people have nothing financial or
Little material things to give you
But they got your back for real no matter what
They put their time, energy, respect and faith in you
Because they love you and see the greatness in you
Before you even knew you had self-worth
Or while you were at rock bottom
And some are just faking the funk
Pretending like they like/love you
They’ve been acting like something that they’re not for so long
That they no longer care about knowing who they really are
That fake smile never changes like the joker from Batman
Just leave those people alone and let that stuff be about them
I don't believe in a having a big homie
I Trust in a God, or a mentor
And I don’t care about proving
How black I am, how hood I am, or how tough I am
By sagging my pants, wearing a red or blue bandana on my head, hands, or in my back pocket
I don’t want to carry a gun, knife or
Talk trash when I know I can’t back up what I say, to protect myself
I know what it’s like to run away from your pain, guilt and loneliness
By covering it up with hate, *** relationships, **** hanging out gangbangers and having a bad attitude
That’s in my past and I hated that person
Now I’m about appreciating life and staying true to myself
A professor once said in my philosophy class
I don’t care if people think I am a good or bad person
Because people are always
Changing their opinions
Based on how they feel or what they’re going through
I once saw this quote in a movie
A Bronx Tale “There is nothing worse than wasted talent”
Don’t waste your time on things that aren’t important to your life.
By Shannon Pollard
© Fall 2013
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 10:00 PM UTC
Crazy how the new got old so quick
Drug dealing is the new entrepreneurship
Stripping is the new night shift
**** financial aid ****
Since they finish college but continue dancing
On that ***** pole ****
Gay is the new straight
Killer cops are the new superman
And cop killers the new batman
Since when have black lives matter
That's old news ****
Social media fame is the new news feed
And gangster rap beef is the new comedy
Kevin Heart is the new Bill without the pill
Obama is the new Kennedy not John but Robert
Hillary will be the new President
But that's just my prediction
Even-though 49 percent of me believes a Republican is winning this election
Since they are the new donkeys and Democrats the new elephant
Orange is the new black?
.... wait...
Orange is the new black?
That's a thing of the past orange been the color for Blacks
Poets are the new rappers
Rappers are the new fathers
**** is the new medicine
No need for doctors and nurses
Money is the new God
Gold chains are the new nooses
Since every ***** want one
D'usse is the new Hennessey no need for a chase
So much new in the world but I'm still the same ol' me
Cole is the new Nas
Kendrick is the new Em
"Drake is the new great Philosopher"
But that is in the words of the Bronx borough president
Since he is the new ***** of politics
But there's only still one
Jay-z
Ball is the new life
and hoes are the new wife's
Snitches are the new thugs
K2 is the new ****
Heroine the new *******
Pills the new crack
So much new in the world and I'm still the same ol' me
Black will be the new white
Peace will be the new war
But those are just my predictions
Since we lost our self-identity through the modern age of seasoning
So much new in the world as I predict
I'll stay the same
While the environment adapts to me
never the other way around
I'll forever be me
And these voices in my head are just the curse of the talented
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 7:30 AM UTC
I was taken by surprise
when her Dad handed me the keys..
“I have a meeting in the City,
Could your drive her to school for me”
That day I had not thought to drive,
My own “K” car was in the shop.
I was having the rear brakes replaced
because sometimes I like to stop.
My car was an econobox
but for my purpose fine.
His car was a Red Firebird-
Top down, top of the line.
The day was clear and drenched with sun-
The perfect top down day.
We waved goodbye as Barb and I
pulled out and on our way.
We heard something from Stravinsky
On her father’s Classics station
As we drove across the Bridge
to her college destination.
The Cross Bronx, unexpectedly,
was light of cars that day.
Traffic on the Bronx River
seemed to yield us right of way.
I pulled in near Bathgate Avenue
And gave my girl a kiss.
I would have liked to linger
But that final she couldn’t miss.
The engine gave a gentle purr
on my return trip down.
I met up with her father
And he dropped me off back home.
With both hands in my pockets,
I watched as he drove off.
The car would prove a classic,
The girl proved, alas, aloof.
Jan 4, 2012
Jan 4, 2012 at 10:51 PM UTC
There's something crazy going on these days
Down at the city zoo
The giraffes have joined the high society club
While the monkies are getting tattoos
The elephant's are packing up their trunks
And moving to the Bronx
With all the hippos on a diet
In an effort to lose their junk
The Lions have stopped lying
The cheetahs have stopped cheating
And as far as all their drinking
They're both going to A.A. meetings
The orangutans are the ones to blame
For a pyramid scheme gone bad
Left the zebras all in the red
When they lost everything they had
The crocodiles are out sunning themselves
By the pool drinking Piña coladas
While the mother snakes go on Maury
To try and figure out who is the father
Yes, things are a little crazy these days
Down at the city zoo
But if you were locked in a cage all day
Wouldn't you go crazy too?
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 1:54 PM UTC
I.
You can always tell the
Virgins from the way they
Glide—cerebral giddy with nectarfilled
Hearts and earlobes full of
Wax/
Wane moonshine turf if you’re not
Dying for astronomers’ loves and what makes
Ptolemy different from Claude is
Given prove:
Equal and opposite reaction.
II.
Shove knife down pork
Wasn’t so hard, was it.
III.
TWO SOLIDS INTERSECT
In a plane. In the bathroom, to be exact.
What follows is not
Essential to the proposition;
Calculate the spatial
(surface area, volume of cubicle,
conclude insufficient is <
where escape
velocity is )
useless to
resistance factor 7 [prepare
for lift-off landing
taxi
To the Bronx of course where else would I
Be on a night like this it’s raining in the parlour
Wont you step outside?
III.
anemic & half-
starved half-
sandwich
go on,
have a bite.
IV.
in arm will undulate bloodcellspouroutcantstoptoowide
are you just imagining this?
What would they tell you in school blood is
thicker than water
i’m not sure they eat
carnivores here.
CARNIVAL
festival of meat.
Flesh
LIVE
trembling
quiver SWIFT shoot through air DUCK dead swandive nosedive outplug
BOOM go the couple in the cabin
lavatory
laboratory? Rats go bang in the night
crash & burn debris over Detroit is our
favorite way to die
colorful isn’t it rainbow—
brushfire—
bruises and fire storms out and around the
populace to decimate seems like mating by a factor of ten
V; or. X^2+i(70x7)=
aftermath:
my ex squared
with me seventy times
seven
equals in
fortitude (labor-intensive)
tea costs sixpence in dallas what about
you so
integral to my
being that sometimes I wonder if you’re just
imaginary or if
what it takes to be transcendental is
beyond what’s rational or even what’s
real to me:
eight is
enough for the eggs.
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 7:53 PM UTC
Section 25, Lot 1115…Gate of Heaven Cemetery….Hawthorne New York
Number 3 in your program, number 1 in your hearts.
Gramps would tell me all the stories and what a big deal they made when he walked up to bat.
Number 3..3..3, Babe..babe…babe…, Ruth..ruth..ruth! Followed by the roar of loving fans!
Today Babe, I’m leaving you a Sabretts hotdog & a fifth of Scotch.
I know you’re out there cooling off under a shade tree with a cabbage leaf on your head.
1-2-3 who are rooting for? Well it ain’t those lousy Red Sox's!
It’s the Babe doing the walk up to “Ain’t She Sweet, See her walking down the street."
The cathedral of baseball, the Bronx Zoo,
The House that Ruth built right there at 161st and River.
You just can't beat the person who never gives up!
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 4:12 PM UTC
A selection of limericks
There was a young lass from the Bronx
Whose ******* make fearful honks
She sounds like a car
When she puts on a bra
And the geese gather round when she bonks
-----------------
Father Alexander McMackett
Ran a ruthless religious racket
When taking collection
He'd offer protection
Salvation could cost you a packet
-----------------
A carrot named Archibald Nation
Had feathers in high numeration
He was labelled as veg
By a grocer called Reg
With a dubious qualification
-----------------
A sculptor named Arnold Duprees
Carved a **** plug from parmesan cheese
He lamented his luck
When it melted and stuck
But he fired it out with a sneeze
-----------------
Knights in the armour of old
Have little to keep out the cold
For they dress as the Scots
In thier tenderest spots
Which encourages rust and then mould
-----------------
Oh ***** you make my knees quiver
You chemical lethargy giver
You tickle my tongue
And pickle my brain
Then you jump up and down on my liver
-----------------
A Fella named Ricky De Gaul
Had seventeen ******* in all
They called him De Chesty
But with only one *****
It should have been Ricky De Ball
Apr 5, 2013
Apr 5, 2013 at 8:15 AM UTC
I grew up in the Bronx, rough neighborhood.
Times were tough, my mom didn't know what to do.
She worked long nights, all week as I struggled in school.
I failed every class, didn't make it too far.
Where'd I end up?
Strippin' at some bar.
Every night men would look and stare.
I used my body for money, but nobody cared.
Where'd it get me?
What good did it do?
But through all of my struggles, I made it out on top.
I've made it, I've succeeded, I rose up from there.
Now I'm a rapper, come on.
Go ahead and stare.
Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 12:45 PM UTC
There are no people around,
only animals, popcorn on side-
walks, empty paper cups,
coke stains. The animals
are in their cages, where
they should be, not out and
about on the town. Clowns
are in the circus, the animals
in their place, and I am
alone at the Bronx Zoo,
kicking peanut shells, waiting for
Washington Irving to show up.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Jun 12, 2019
Jun 12, 2019 at 10:06 AM UTC
I’m a shy yet outgoing introvert.
When it comes to getting attention, I will divert
I love to give love and try not to hurt
I sometimes feel **** and will attempt to flirt
When you talk religion and spirituality,
please keep all of those labels away from me
Because I will whisper into the wind and through the trees
as God’s omnipresence is surrounding me
Being in nature invigorates and inspires me
Viewing wildlife and feeling the cool country breeze
The happy return of the flowers and the bees
Love new beginnings and feeling free
Adventure and travel runs through my veins
By land, sky, and sea, I love all terrains
Trying new things and experimenting keeps me sane
Listening to all genres of music feeds my brain
Bronx born and Detroit raised, I thrive on diversity
Learning about culture, the arts, and our history
are my life’s passions and bring inner harmony
Oh well, that is enough about me . . .
Mar 23, 2019
Mar 23, 2019 at 1:23 PM UTC
On a cold, grey Bronx September day, an old man stood on the Courthouse plaza.
His palsied hand reached out to touch the monument to his life’s sole drama.
He’d just turned nineteen when the A.E.F. had been ordered to assist the French.
Near Chateau-Thierry He helped hold the bridge without the safety of a trench.
“We Marines fought like devil Dogs” He whispered softly to the rain.
“The Germans came, wave after wave, but only the stars and stripes remained.”
“Paris was spared and the foe was impressed by our Marine’s defiant dogged defense.”
“My best friends died, but I survived to keep them in remembrance.”
“We stopped the Germans at the Marne.” He felt an old familiar pain.
Some might say that the old man cried, but he would say it was just the rain.
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 11:20 AM UTC
There is a wave of basslines rotating and vibrating in the landscape, smoking vowels splashing and cracking in diamond depictions.
Heartbeats thrum in dizzy formations, lost in the beat bopping
and flow rocking.
Heads spin in faraway galaxies, further than eternal Earth,
seamless Saturn, flaming Mars.
Secret stars burst with electrifying energy and trigger blazing consonants.
Hips divide into multiple equations in a series of grinding rhythms.
Over the top sensations spiral high in the sky across the jazzy
frame.
Muscles popping, feet hopping, arms dropping in breaking beats,
as sweet sistas and groovy fellas gyrate in timeless dimensions.
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 10:30 PM UTC
glued to crushed velvet
i think in hues of blue
tonight and wonder
what you see when
you stare at your
ceiling in the bronx
is it waterlogged and
cracking? or smooth
and perfectly painted
in eggshell white? or
maybe it's stuccoed,
or patterned, or hand
painted with naked
angels floating about?
turn on your transformers
and fire up the transporter
i'm coming to lay
side by side to see
what it is you see
when you tell me
you're thinking of me
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 9:23 PM UTC
fingertips reach into burrows tonight,
brooklyn and bronx,
where i most wish i could lay
these bones that wish to be buried
count seconds,
hold breaths,
make wishes,
then promises,
to gods i don't
believe exist,
so that i may
look into eyes
that truly know
what goes on
behind mine
fire off framed fragrances and
feinding freight trains headed
for longing, lust, and love in all
of the ways that i could've sworn
i left when the bed was still wet
and my memories weren't those
of a woman without remorse
days spent
looking 'round
corners with
mirrors,
tales told
of creatures
that turn liars
into stone,
step slowly,
hold steady,
fire quickly,
and give
always to
the great
unknown
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 12:18 AM UTC
I was captivated,
Mesmerized by her beauty on this Bronx bound 5 train.
I drowned in her green eyes and did not care to breathe.
Her ***** blonde, bordering brunette hair waved perfectly.
Everything about her was beautiful.
To say I was nervous would be an understatement.
I didn't dare to tell her how radiant she looked.
Another missed connection on a subway line heading uptown.
Hopefully I will see her at Wall Street again.
It isn't likely, but I would like to redeem myself.
Or at least say , "Good morning."
Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 8:54 PM UTC
Five years.
So much can happen
In that amount of time.
Five years ago you left.
Five years ago I thought I'd never see you again.
Five years ago seems a life time away.
Four years ago I found new friends.
Four years ago I didn't know how I'd get through.
Four years ago is so far away.
Three years ago I wasn't sure who my friends were.
Three years ago I saw you again for the first time.
Three years ago is so far gone now.
Two years ago I thought I found a new best friend.
Two years ago you came to live with me for a few weeks.
Two years ago is a distant memory.
One year ago I was shunned by my friends.
One year ago I said a final good-bye, unsure of how long until I would see you again.
One year ago is something I'm holding onto for the years to come.
Four months from now I won't have any friends.
Four months from now you and I, we will be reunited.
Four months from now is a future I'm grasping desperately.
Five years is a long time
To go without a best friend.
To go without my sister.
In a short span of months
We can finally see each other!
We can finally stop saying good-bye.
The next four years
Will be the best!
We won't have to wait and fly thousands of miles just to see each other.
From Prague to Kuala Lumpur
Takes so much time and is so far
We only see each other once a year.
Manhattan to Bronx
Doesn't take so long and is not as far.
Now we can see each other whenever we want!!
Five years.
So much can happen
In that amount of time.
But now,
Now we are together
Once again.
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 12:18 AM UTC