"casinos" poems
She left Reno
in a satin slip
the color of hot coins
pouring from slots,
wearing chewed-up tennis shoes,
mirrors multiplying her,
the marquee burning out
letter by letter,
a hush pressed between her teeth
as if saving the last note.
I followed,
a gangly shadow,
mother’s voice in my ear:
"life is not a freeway exit."
But she was the exit.
She drove west
through a glittering throat.
In Tonopah she was a waitress,
red stains on her wrists,
sleeves tugged low,
coffee pouring thin as blood.
In Barstow she was a sun-bleached Madonna,
halo blistered, mouth lit in stained glass.
At a gas station in Needles
shimmering into a coyote’s shadow
and slipped behind the pumps.
Then movement along the fence,
low, quick—
gone again.
Casinos blinked like electric relics.
Truckers called her sugar,
greedy hands counting her ribs
as if she was the paycheck
sweating in their fist,
but she slipped away each time,
her silhouette already moulting-
a serpent skin, a smoke-trail,
a saint’s shadow burning off the wall.
By Malibu, the night
had softened to velvet.
The pier at Zuma
leaned into the Pacific
like a broken bridge.
She sang to me—
low, cracked—
then let the slip fall.
Her body cut into the dark tide,
no disguise.
I waded in after her,
ankles bruised by rock.
Water lit with jellyfish,
each pulse a warning.
I stopped where it deepened,
felt the pull take hold.
No exit left,
just the Pacific’s mouth
closing around her.
Sep 1, 2025
Sep 1, 2025 at 8:08 PM UTC
Timbeck Tyu, Timbeck Tyu
Great City Timbeck Tyu
Coloured Walls Nicely Painted
Arts and Drawing Everywhere
Artifacts on every crossing
People's representatives feel like king
Magnificient buildings here and there
Bridges and flyover everywhere
Toll tax booth here and there
Statues standing everywhere
Banners hanging here and there
Hoardings, posters everywhere
Malls and Hotels here and there
Dance Bars and Casinos everywhere
Citizens always in Crisis
Struggling with poverty
Economical condition bad
Politicians has gone mad
Nationalism in Slogans
Here and there hooligans
Real nationalist are renamed
They are called anti-nationals
Corruption is on the peak
You need license to speak
Crowd imposes censorship
System respects the crowd
Mouse catches the Crow
Everything on the show
Real news not covered
Real issues are untouched
Fake news are implanted
Press and Media on sale
Laws are being twisted
Burden of proof shifted
Culprits are honoured
Innocents are hanged
Farmers are in debts
Their families are starving
They can't even pay their loans
Neither Principal nor interest
They either commit suicide
or land in jail for not paying loans
Hospital competing with hotels
Doctors busy in making money
Patients treatment is on Sale
Get cured only if you pay
Stray Animals on the rise
What you can do if you cry?
Black money in circulation
White money is called pollution
Rapes, Murders and theft on rise
Law and order is on the papers
Lawyers are with Politicians
Politicians are with Criminals
Criminals are with the Police
Police is with the Capitalists
Only the God is with the victims
That too only, if he really exists
Population almost exploding
Environment full of pollution
Fights and quarrels here and there
Religion and faith always on stake
Caste and Classes everywhere
Race and Religion everywhere
Common people struggling for food
Saints consuming wine and drugs
Rallies and protests uprising
The system has turned deaf
Goddess of law weeping and bleeding
Judges busy in process law and rules
Timbeck Tyu, Timbeck Tyu
Such a great city Timbeck Tyu
Have you liked Timbeck Tyu?
Want to live in Timbeck Tyu?
If you liked, Timbeck Tyu
Want to live in Timbeck Tyu
First apply for passport in your country
Then apply for visa from Timbeck Tyu
Hurry Up, Hurry Up, don't be late
Visa's are limited so take care
May 16, 2019
May 16, 2019 at 6:28 AM UTC
There's holes in all my pockets
No more money do they hold
My hands can't go much deeper
Trying to shield them from the cold
I've got 'bout fifteen dollars
Rolled and stuffed inside my boot
Got it from a pawn shop
Where I went and sold my suit
The road to where I'm going
Is one I've never been before
I've gambled all I own away
I'm looking for a score
All my life's possessions
Are scattered cross the land
In pawn shops and casinos
In the mountains and the sand
I gambled with the devil
Didn't win, had no chance
Now, I'm hitching it to nowhere
With empty pockets in my pants
A dealer with a lucky streak
And me on my last legs
Now, I'm one step up from dying
I'm now one of the worlds dregs
The money in my left boot
Won't last long when I hit town
I'll find the first casino
And my sorrows I will drown
Be it on the tables
Or at the bar telling my tale
It won't last long no matter
But my soul still ain't for sale
I gambled with the devil
Didn't have a chance at all
It's amazing that the distance
That there is for one to fall
It didn't take a decade
And it didn't take a year
But, I'm one step from the bottom
Aching hard for my next beer
I'm hitching it to nowhere
But, I'll know when I arrive
Don't know how long I'll stay there
Or how long I will survive
I've got holes in all my pockets
All I own is on my back
I gambled with the devil
He took red, and I took black.
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 11:04 AM UTC
The albatross once filled the skies
Cormorants watched silent, from the shore
These are echoes of times long ago
There's nothing here for them any more
The coastline littered with sunken ships
Villages full of ghosts
Empty buildings and empty lives
Where just the sea gulls act as hosts
Oceans away lads, Oceans away
Out past the breakers and out to the sea
Oceans away lads, Oceans away
Out on the Ocean, where my soul is set free
The cod stocks have dwindled
There was no need to stay
There's no catch of the day, son
From here to Gaspe'
The canneries shuttered
The landscape has changed
I may be a sailor
But, my life's rearranged
Oceans away lads, Oceans away
Out past the breakers and out to the sea
Oceans away lads, Oceans away
Out on the Ocean, where my soul is set free
The Grand Banks are empty
Our boats are in hock
There's nothing that grows here
Except depression and rock
While others moved onward
I'll stay 'till I'm dead
Now, I feed off the tourists
I work the casinos instead
Oceans away lads, Oceans away
Out past the breakers and out to the sea
Oceans away lads, Oceans away
Out on the Ocean, where my soul is set free
The salt air still calls me
The wind in my sails
The sound of the rigging
Heading off to Kinsale
The coastline is empty
Where Ghost towns now stand
It used to be vibrant
But now just sea grass and sand
Oceans Away Lads, Oceans Away
On out past the breakers, and out to the see
Oceans away lads, Oceans Away
I still am a sailor, and I always will be
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 11:29 PM UTC
She chases the white rabbit
in the afternoons
plays blackjack
with the doves of youth
her innocence
is colored Pink
her queer dreams
are made of silk
she is the Queen
of sunny afternoons
her heart
is like stained glass
through
which the light appears
and fades
*blackjack - is a card game played in American casinos
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 11:17 AM UTC
you should take a vacation
visit the meadows of strip clubs and casinos
put all your money on black
come out on top, for me
come out on top, and visit me
across states and fogs and droughts
love in the form of postage stamps
i can hear your melody calling me
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 10:41 AM UTC
The slot machines remove my cash
with Dyson like precision
The operation's painless
There isn't even an incision
It's gone as soon as I sit down
For that is just their mission
I lose as soon as I sit down
I made a bad decision
The table games are even worse
Distractions everywhere
Table dancers walk and dance
But most folks do not care
In shorty shorts and thigh high boots
They flick and fling their hair
And we sit losing wads of cash
As though we do not care
The strip itself is free to walk
It's a breaking even quest
Unless you take the monorail
Then you get put to the test
Long walks between casinos
Through the homeless where they nest
Once you walk to where you're going
You need to sit down for a rest
The walkways littered with lost souls
Our society's open sores
selling water for a dollar
blocking all the hotel doors
tourists cueing up to see
shell and ball games by the score
We walk by glancing down on them
For we are Vegas ******
A city based on excess
Where the winner is not you
There are some that leave with money
But, in truth....there's very few
The derelict and drunkards
beg for change the whole day through
and their dogs beg from the beggars
It never changes....nothing's new.
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 2:08 PM UTC
She wanders the lost streets of her city
She was looking for the shining lights of Las Vegas
But this streets here a gritty
The City that is for its casinos famous
She went through hell
Just to visit Las Vegas and its lights
She loved the city's spell
The sound of the slot machines in the nights
And at next morning she tells with a fragile voice
I was in Las Vegas, the city of lights, yes I was there
I was at the place of my choice
She said she loved the flair
But actually she wanders through her lost youth
She wanders through a fake reality
But she didn't wanted to know the truth
She lived her live in duality
But the day came, where she didn't came back from her trip
She had never luck at the slot machines in Las Vegas
In her hand her last chip
To everyone she was nobody, to us she was famous
Sep 3, 2024
Sep 3, 2024 at 6:48 AM UTC
you group these letters on a silver platter
that have slyly slipped from your siren lips
i,
a simple sailor lost in the mist of your voice,
trapped in the waves
of your heart's ribcage.
i never had the chance to reach the harbor
nor did i want to,
after swallowing your store window words.
your voice is complex lights and welcome signs.
las vegas casinos envy the way you sell to the gambling addict,
to the slave of the unknown.
you are that.
a gamble,
advertised as a sure thing.
you are an array of bells and whistles purchased at 5 in the morning on the shopping channel
but when delivered and when your big colour full box is ripped open,
a scared and average appliance is all i find.
Average i know this word scares you.
its the worst thing that can ever become of the extravagant,
of the bold.
but average is comfortable,
average is no more need for shows,
the circus elephant can finally go home.
its real.
its everyday life,
its mix matched socks and its stolen road signs.
you and i are average in the most unique way
because we mold together layer upon layer and become one of a kind.
the one of a kind I'm proud to call mine,
the you and me combined is something i cannot quite define, in words that is
but in just one kiss
everything begins to exist
words aren't needed,
in this permanent bliss
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 5:14 PM UTC
Back in upstate New York
she was a girl with stars in her eyes
She hopped a freight out westward
And tried Vegas on for size
Off strip hotels, little shows
Young Delores danced with glee
She was working in Las Vegas
the home of Jubilee
"Do you have a minute folks?'
"Do you need tickets for a show?"
"Will you be in town tonight?"
"There's a place you need to go"
"Will you be in town tomorrow?"
"We could send you for a meal"
"You just have to see our condo's"
"It's a real fantastic deal"
Twenty years upon the strip
Wearing fruit baskets on her head
Delores was a showgirl
Even though the shows were dead
She danced backup for lounge singers
She was with Wayne Newton for a while
She still had all the attributes
That made the tourists smile
"Do you have a minute folks?'
"Do you need tickets for a show?"
"Will you be in town tonight?"
"There's a place you need to go"
"Will you be in town tomorrow?"
"We could send you for a meal"
"You just have to see our condo's"
"It's a real fantastic deal"
Time went by as it always does
Her body said "No more"
Dancing in the big time shows
Had made her body sore
Options down in Vegas
For ex-showgirls were not good
But she wasn't going east again
Even though folks said she should
"Do you have a minute folks?'
"Do you need tickets for a show?"
"Will you be in town tonight?"
"There's a place you need to go"
"Will you be in town tomorrow?"
"We could send you for a meal"
"You just have to see our condo's"
"It's a real fantastic deal"
She didn't have the hands for dealing
The casino was her second home
But, she didn't want to waitress
She was just too old to roam
But in Vegas, there's a sub trade
One she had the smile for
She could still work in the casinos
And help get people through the door
"Do you have a minute folks?'
"Do you need tickets for a show?"
"Will you be in town tonight?"
"There's a place you need to go"
"Will you be in town tomorrow?"
"We could send you for a meal"
"You just have to see our condo's"
"It's a real fantastic deal"
Selling timeshares to the folks
Who come in all the time
They could get free shows and dinners
And it wouldn't cost a dime
Delores was still a show girl
But, it was not the same by far
But, she was still selling in Vegas
And Delores was still a star
"Do you have a minute folks?'
"Do you need tickets for a show?"
"Will you be in town tonight?"
"There's a place you need to go"
"Will you be in town tomorrow?"
"We could send you for a meal"
"You just have to see our condo's"
"It's a real fantastic deal"...
Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 7:15 PM UTC
Here you are!
Las Vegas bound!
Got your dollars
by the pound!
Looking 'round at
all the sights!
The big Casinos!
Pretty lights!
You are here
for three big nights...
You and the wife
take in a show!
Gotta do that
don'tcha know
Then the liquor
starts to flow
The quarter slots
and off you go...
WOW! You WON!
$800 bucks!
You just can't
believe your luck!
You're hi-rollin'!
That's no lie!
Friend, you won the
***** PRIZE.*
Off you go to the
Blackjack table
You play as long
as you are able
Start to lose.
Become unstable
Win in Vegas?
That's a fable...
You begin to
lose your mind
You lose more money
Than you find
Gambling
becomes a grind
You are really
in a bind
Sin City's really
so unkind...
Table to table
You're on the hop
You're all over
on the shop
Buying chips with
money you ain't got
Your wife is
begging you to stop...
Back at the slots
where you began
Don't know day from night
my friend
You drop the dollars
You're 'round the bend
You spent money
your friends lend
Finally you're
at the end...
Here you are
upon the stool
You didn't play
by you're own rules
Don't bank the house
and be a tool
But here you sit
Just like a fool...
Now you're singin'
the sad song
You spent it all
you're in the wrong
Vegas knew it all along
Your wife has left
your money's gone...
Open pocket
out it slips
You fell for
the dealer's quips
The dreams of riches
from their lips
You fell for
the gambling whips
*now you gotta
EAT THOSE CHIPS.*
SoulSurvivor
(C) 2/7/2016
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 8:59 AM UTC
Ole planned
to go
to Las Vegas
but he didn't make it
his untimely death
got in the way
(such are the plans
of mice and men
they say)
he even noted it
on his
Face Book page
mentioned
in passing
as if
a whole clear road
was visible ahead
(now he's dead)
but I can can see him
now in spirit
making his
own way there
taking in
the bright lights
the neon signs
the shows
to be seen
(getting in for free too
what a Mutley laugh
that will bring)
and Ole
in his black hat
and coat and shirt
and dark shades
making his way
at his own
slow pace
around the casinos
his ghostly hand
pulling a few arms
of one armed bandit
machines
while the punters
look on
**** witless
as the arm
goes down
again and again
or in the other games
I can see you
taking your own part
your sense
of gamble and fair play
wandering the tables
ghostly whispering
advice
(in your quiet voice
being nice)
having a cool beer
at the bar
or Jim Beam
or Jameson
if they've got it
you sitting there
the barman unaware
you there
taking in
the whole scene
the big shows
the bright lights
neon signs
wish I
could go there
with you
walk at your side
sharing a beer
or whiskey
a soft conversation
or that special silence
we often shared
when words
weren't needed
where the bond
was strong
go to Vegas my son
go to Las Vegas Ole
take in
the whole scene
of Vegas fun
my departed son.
Feb 14, 2014
Feb 14, 2014 at 1:40 AM UTC
did you have a
good thanksgiving?
not to bring you down
but the people who
first helped the whites
are the poorest folk around.
the Nations of Lakota
the Navajo. the Sioux
they live their lives despairingly
not knowing what to do.
these people have rich heritage
some live off the land.
but the rez may not be able
to give them ground to stand.
what Caucasian people
gave the native folk
were the parts unwanted
a disgrace! a joke!
some put up casinos
to "help" them in their plight
but much of this income
is wrenched from them by the white!
drugs and "fire water"
are a great deal to blame
for destruction of a culture
which bears noble name!
I have read the stories
of Gallup New Mexico
of many deaths of citizens
of the nation Navajo
because intoxication
and the bitter cold
have them sleeping under cars
or so the stories told.
when the owner of the vehicle
gets in and drives away
they run over the poor drunkard
who dies where they lay.
other grave conditions
have these people fraught
they have no essentials
we don't give a thought.
don't want to be crass
don't want to be gross
but they have no toilet paper
use newspaper! or worse!
there are churches. charity
but the folk are proud
they have basic dignity
this is not allowed.
but you can help their Nations
by giving to THEM
the worthy tribal leaders
will help them once again.
I felt lead to write this
I am SO concerned
they are the source of inspiration
by a great respect
they've earned.
SoulSurvivor
(C) 11/27/2015
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 12:53 PM UTC
i’m always glad
when a joke comes along
it’s all the casinos and things i am
and ever been lost in
i was bored
and no boredom kills you like lust does
it’s red when you bet red
all the time
and you’ll be alone
between periods of manic payout and disbelief
if you don’t leave
and slap the croupier on the ***
and ask them to join.
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 3:49 AM UTC
With nothing much else to do,
We would grab a couple of purple prickly pear margaritas
And I remember how delicious they were
And how the bartender didn't hold back
Yes, they were strong.
And I would giggle, I would act ditzy.
Just because it was fun, and it got your attention.
You would roll your eyes at me sometimes
But not really in a mean way.
And we would grab some coney dogs, devour them like they were nothing.
Then we would fight about something.
We would drive all the way to the city
Stroll through the casinos aimlessly,
Because we were financially irresponsible,
But not that financially irresponsible.
Afterwards, you would buy me a delicious ice cream.
Then you would tell me all the places you wanted to take me, and all the events you wanted me to experience.
We really did give it our all.
But life is cruel, and our best wasn't good enough.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 11:55 PM UTC
*Remembrance
A dirt blown wind
stings my face as I walk
this dry river bed below the mesa.
It is a barren time of year and
cold, with some snow on the ground.
This is the land of our ancestors,
it calls to me
even though I now live in a larger city
east of Four Corners
and the Four Sacred Mountains.
~~~
It is in the hogan of my Grand Mother’s family
that I am learning the ceremonial dances-
the Blessing Way;
to sand draw the signs
and dance the dance
that can heal the diseases
of the belegana’s hatred
for our traditional ways:
the Ghost Dance of the Sioux;
the Katsina Songs of the Hopi and Zuni;
the Circle Dances of the Cherokee.
~~~
Belegana society teaches our young
the ways of money, alcohol and ****
of scorched earth, casinos
and death.
~~~
I am only a small part People,
my moccasins too new
and still hurt my feet.
And yet, I would willingly sweat out
every ounce of belegana blood
for just one glimpse of seeing
the full moon rising over Big Mountain;
of watching Coyote dancing
to Kokopelli’s flute;
our People happy, in balance
above and below,
no longer forgetful of our Origin Songs.
Aztec Warrior 1.15.16*
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 10:36 AM UTC
It happens, like drifting, like falling, and her words calming and refreshing like the gust of strong breeze in the month of June,
Take me way, from the polluted world, this world so selfish, so eager to take your love like industrialists acquiring as much of land as they can,
But never wearing heart their on their sleeve, or like cutting farmlands and building casinos on them rearing greed,
No, no you’re not beautiful, look in the mirror; can u see the innocence and honesty?
That you lost to thousand lies written on texts, spoken on phones, lies gradually building and swirling like tornadoes breathed into eyes, eyes that once loved you and glowed when you spoke
I have lost the innocence, in the hurry to grow up, speaking of things and words that appear mature to me, but knowing that the meaning of these words is lost to me, for my heart yearns to hope again,
Hopes to learn to trust again, to believe that love is all that we need. But all of these are lies.
The growing up is painful and so is living in this world which accurately teaches you math’s and physics, but only leaves you to calculate the demonic deeds you do,
And how your are only surrounded by ghosts of what used to be honest mass of skin and bones.
And, and if your are truly lucky and may have showered love on your close ones, showers like that of July bursting and lighting up the earth with buds of belief of survival and loved the way tree roots are loyal to the soil with your past lovers
Then, it happens like lightening in deserts, all your fears drown but a new kind of fear also crashes against your body,
It happens like that, you can’t breathe without them but then again they are the only ones that can steal your breath from your lungs by kissing someone else,
But they mend your broken wing of lost trust, and show you again what it feels like to swing back and forth on the rainbow colored swings in the afternoon rain, with your hair flying everywhere and your heart finally feeling free of this burdening world,
And they show you how, love is all you need. And that isn’t a lie
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 12:50 PM UTC
For all the empty promises, the crocodile tears, the anger, the emotions in general. For the tears, and the hurt, and the longing. For the good times along with the bad times. For the adventures and the laughter and the prancing and the frolicking.
For the beaches and the overlooks and the rollercoasters and and the drugs and the beer and the shenanigans. For the casinos and the hotel rooms, for the crazy people and the jokes we made about them. For all of it.
I love you
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 3:56 PM UTC
there was little badger the gambling sort was he
he went to Las Vegas far across the sea
looking for casinos and bandits he could play
hoped he would win a fortune and be rich one day
he played for a while and watched the bandits spin
his luck it had run out no money did he win
so he moved a long to the tables of roulette
gathered up his chips then he placed his bet
round and round it went going very fast
his numbers didnt come they went sailing past
money running out he was in distress
so he had a game of poker to clear up all his mess
he gambled what was left but the cards they didnt fall
all his money gone nothing left at all
so he headed home to his homeland shore
to this very day he never gambled anymore
Mar 5, 2014
Mar 5, 2014 at 11:10 AM UTC
i am not a metaphor
for the cracked sidewalk
that sprawls outside my door
growing unwanted weeds,
littered with faults and things
people don't want anymore
i am nothing like the sidewalk
my heart is not made of cement
and it is not used to being walked on
yes, i have faults, but i was not made
to be stepped on repeatedly
because i am human, not asphalt
and my heart is often stuck in my throat,
not steady enough for your heavy words-
not built for your harsh footsteps
i am not a metaphor
for the card games that are played
in rundown casinos
filled with bustling people
with foreheads gleaming sweat,
the sole ambition to conquer the first prize-
people just like you
i am nothing like the card games
and i can't keep pretending that
nothing bothers me, with
a permanent poker face
and always settling to be the sore loser
because i've spent too many forevers
hidden under your shadow,
and it's about time that i pulled a joker
because i am tired of always letting you win
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 3:10 PM UTC
most of the time
he drifted
in and out
of cindy's life
the man she once looked up to
was now enslaved
by the bottle
his hair receding
his face lined
his smile
furtive
he told her he had a new girl
in atlantic city
a dancer he met
in one of the resort's
endangered casinos
cindy pictured the girl as
young
brunette bangs
hard eyes
emaciated
a lap dancer
hooked on something
forbidden
the next morning
he threw a few twenties
on the kitchen table
left a note
in his hung over scrawl
about catching a
greyhound bus to a-c
he was already
out the door
on his way
to nirvana
when she read the note
all she thought was
'bye daddy...see you whenever'
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 7:23 PM UTC
three years I worshipped
in the red brick cathedrals
by the ugliest lake on the planet,
but I was cast out of the holy halls,
with mounds of Mellaril, and other sacred potions in pill form
to see the “outreach caseworker”, though I never knew
what she was reaching for
my husband had divorced me,
both my sons were in Dallas, dealing cards
at Wall Street casinos, holding the aces for themselves or a chosen few,
like I really knew anything about what
filled their days
my sister took me in,
fed me finger foods, had her maid bathe me
and invited the ghosts from my past into her house
they all hugged me and told me how nice my hair looked
now that I was no longer yanking it out by the fist full
and choking on it as it went down
they smelled of sycophantic scents from Macy’s
and Neiman Marcus, and I longed for the odor of my cellmate,
who had to be submerged in a steaming sea once a week, after
they had pumped enough of Morpheus’ brew in her to
mellow a mammoth
I missed her, and her truculent silence
and the way her arms writhed in her jacket,
like so many snakes squirming to be free,
or perhaps those were the last sin eating serpents
in their death throes, but I would never know
for in 1000 days and 1000 nights, her jacket
was never removed, for the white ones feared what
black storm waited inside, so they allowed it to hide
someplace in her fetid carcass
now when I look across the charcoal stillness
of my room, cluttered with dead distractions,
I imagine her there, on her cot, producing anthems
on mad marching afternoons, or singing lullabies
in evenings last gasps, all without making a sound,
then my eyes well with tears, for I know
she would miss me too, and worry
what I was doomed to hear and smell
now that her mystic music and stench
were stolen from me
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC
A person alone,
standing somewhere unknown,
a parking garage's top floor,
looking on people at the movies and casinos in score,
every one looking forward while one stares down,
at all that inhabit this big city small town,
the families and singles alike,
trying to escape their stationary bike,
hearing barely intelligible dreams and bemoans,
no one notices the person above alone,
the mountains mingling with skyscrapers and skylines,
all looking no one searching for something to take off their minds,
there's a cool chill,
and the person soon drunk enough of the scene to have their fill,
but doesn't back even when it starts to snow,
for they have no where to go,
cept stare at the scene of beauty down below,
the pull their phone out and write this poem,
still no one looks up and sees the person alone.
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 5:20 PM UTC
With all this glacial melting, and our own East Coast meltdown from our latest blizzard, I wonder how many Neolithic mummies might be found entrapped within ice sheets floating along our Jersey shore? And could these preserved remains just be displaced homeless, men and likely women as well, whose failed luck at Atlantic City Casinos left them in strange circumstance of frozen time encapsulation, only to become part of a future archeological find? To whom and to what advanced scientific methods, or perhaps retrogressive scientific methodology, will these corpses be subjects of, if found a thousand years from now? Can we predict no mix up of modern and long former species of man?Just say for instance, some pristine specimen of iceman 3,000 years or older is floating in an iceberg, down from Western Greenland and past Nova Scotia in a tidal melt that finally brings it to a flooded non-moppable place ignored by a present day, though barbaric governor. Then said governor is ambushed by its distressed and recently homeless victims mobbing and mopping on icebergs and struck by mop heads, just as this Neolithic berg is floating by with its' ancient hunter/gatherer Popsicle in tow. Who might know the difference? What future generation might be able to clarify the difference between the two, or might they even care?
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 7:27 PM UTC
The good looking kids NEVER have pimples!
Have you noticed... How the Banks ALWAYS back the big money?
Have you cottoned on.. To the fact that the VERY RICH always come out on top?
Surely you have twigged to just how easily the BEAUTIFUL girls get the very best of everything?
How about that LAST table in the restaurant? Has the ordinary guy got a shot?
When was the last time you saw a POLITICIAN back a little guy?
Notice how the Priest smiles WIDEST when the Wealthy contribute to the plate?
Who gets the BEST DEAL when they buy a new car?
Preferential treatment at Casinos...Free this, free that....?? The SUPER RICH!
Complimentary tickets to the game?..FAT CATS!
...and who wins the armchair ride to Heaven????
...THE WELL HEELED BUGGERS WHO CAN AFFORD THE TICKET!
So should we, the habitually poor, deprived, ugly sector of society... Feel shortchanged ?
.....or should we be smugly aloof in our tolerated, noble deprivation?
**SHORTCHANGED YOU ******** AND THE DAY OF RECKONING IS NIGH!**
Marshalg
Just a bit of fun.
11 February 2013
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 2:51 AM UTC