"citys" poems
A bit of sunshine
A bit of magic will do
Not a big banquet
Not too many people
Maybe a little privacy
Maybe a little "my time"
For midnight,
Be it your soft kisses
My family,Oh dear!
Not fancy cake surprises
And as I sleep in your arms
May I dream a paradise
Not money,nor hard cash
Mornings be like,
A slight nip in the air
Sunrise from my bedroom
Not zillion missed messages
I want the day,at peace
Like a poet's wish
Simple,chaste,crystal clear
Not fake "Happy Birthdays"
I want the day,
Maybe full of good vibes
Among true people,
Among trustworthy friends
Not mere acquaintances.
As I drove past,
The air,
I want to feel it,
Making my hair dance
I wanna face its coldness
The soft stiffness upon my cheeks
Not mere cigarrate puffs
I cherish a memorable picture
Over trillion pout-faced selfies
Well,all for my birthday,
I want to cut,
This citys' madness
Not just chocolate cakes
Take me far away as you can
To rugged mountains,to blue rivers
Fairytale isnt it,
I want it real
Just the scenario in front of my eyes
Searching for you,
I hope to see you by me,the next time
I wanna blow dandelions
Not just burning candles
I wanna run past the barren fields
Dressed up in florals
Not the dark glittery blacks'
Well,all for my birthday.
I wanna live these moments
Tyind to decode this one day
Not snazzy gifts,nor over-the-top clicks
I want my birthday to be like,
I am just 17
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 5:03 AM UTC
I know no matter what I say or do.The words will sound so very hollow.For I am forever a stranger to you.Just a name in a sea of others.Fellow yarn spinners.Snakes and thieves friends and brothers.You cannot read the truth from a lie.The recluse writter the drunkand just another guy.A page filled with words andempty meanings.A seedy downtown theater that shows the best latenight screenings.My face is unknown but my soul is already there.Blind are the truths of a scetchy past.So I remain forever a stranger toanyone who may care.Beautiful eyes that go unseen.Shadows on a clear night.So is my nightmare and how is your dream?I cant say I'll ever know the uptown citys respect.Im more of the twisted citys slums and back alleys favorite reject.I remove the ******** to expose thethe gritty side of what to me is brutal and true.I ride through the darkest part night.To remain forever a stranger to you.
Feb 22, 2010
Feb 22, 2010 at 5:14 AM UTC
she came in out of the dark rain
her guns hanging loose at the ready
her worn leather death hand just driftin above
the handle of her colt
eyes searching for the hard glint of steel
in the faces of the saloons crowded floor
but none had noticed her come in from the storm
she walked to the bar and called out
for a whiskey
leaned and let all but gun hand rest
as one of the prettiest bargirls came up
and smiled for a drink
without conversation the girl lead her
to a backroom
and this gypsy's night was filled with hot passions
and the gun hand was forgotten
in the sweet arms of virgina citys sweetest rose
but morning came with the rolling
of the steamtrains whistle
and the sheriff calling out the gun hand
she had laid some dog of a man low
for putting his hands on his woman
now she got to hang
cant be shootin our law abiding folk
we don't take kindly
this gunhand
this leather clad hard riding woman
with the softest sweetest heart
the kindest of souls
wasn't gonna let em hang her
for shooting down a ***** dog of a man
so she kissed sweet rose long an deep
and bid that sweet girl fare thee well
took up her colt
out into the dusty raw heat of
noonday sun she stepped with
her gun hand driftin over the **** of her colt
eyes blazin for the fool of a sheriff
who had come to lay her low in the name of justice
in the name of their lie of a town
they faced eachother and drew pistols
both got off a shot
one fell to the dusty earth
never to rise again
the other laid down pistol
and walked away
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 2:29 PM UTC
the little ant hill is pooping out more piles of sand
piling little grains of metals high into the sky
they shine immaculately in the sunshine
as the rows of workers stream through the citys’ veins
they carry their plump, white babies
nurtured through larval state to maturity
the work continues tirelessly, ceaselessly
over green hills and through forests
over land and around the suburbs
families sit in their homes around television sets
the hills of little grains pile higher and higher
their antennae turn upward and sense the setting sun
night falls and the work is paused
the night beasts move around the piles of grain
the structure collapses and the residents scatter
rain begins and the flood is upon
the little ant hill is pooping out more piles of sand
piling little grains of metals high into the sky
shining brilliantly in the sun
the colony remains
originally posted on my blog https://sublimeobscenities.wordpress.com/ on May 24, 2014
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 1:50 PM UTC
The night always falls a sweet embrace to the citys bitter reallty.
And I it's ever pressent *** a nothing in a sea of so called movers and shakers.
I saw them all rise and in that growth I also saw that which made them special turn to the worst of the mundane .
A sort of flawed perfection.
Now just a run of the mill joke.
Anyone can be good show me depth and most will just ask how much does that truely cost?
Take my traggic ending make it something in a empty lie to suit your dreams .
I still preffer my nightmares reprise.
Am I not the artist but have I killed the clown to give all till all is what none did ever require?
Please find comfort in a happiness I myself could never grasp.
And ignore bitter tears drown in many rivers yet to embrace the flood
and a pressent future.
I preffer a bloodstained past broken hearts existance.
What is left still ***** with even my own thoughts.
You should have stopped while your ahead my boy **** how I hate advice.
Maybe im a reject of a long gone feeling we no longer share.
Maybe I simply stopped giving a **** altogather.
Heres the punchline Ive lost it friends lets drink to a sunset and a passing tide.
Whats left is a chaos inspired novel and a unending addiction i can no longer control.
Maybe a it's hell but what a night we shared time's a ***** who's dance cards often full.
Laughter covers the uneasy feelings I view in the readers mind.
Watch with fire for certain its burn we know when we have played.
But yet another night closes and im just another lost whisper of a forgotten conversation.
dont darken my grave if you've never stood at my door.
We all saw the truth just some choose to ignore its end.
And others never gave a dam to begin with.
One day we'll all understand the street lights fade and the silence
does erase us all.
Sunrise I care less to greet your return as i truley linger to embrace your fade.
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 1:59 AM UTC
Bottles in brown bags clutter along the fence.
the citys inner chambers call to me even now.
The human relics the walking forgotten beaten by life.
The gutters tressures collect the remains
of another misspent night.
The air smells of treachery a tinge of regret.
Why she huants my heart a flawless escape.
we can leave but we take that moments sealed plessure.
Silk encounters hash pavment of a empty embrace.
The old fool who's birthday he relives
only in hope for change.
I celebrate the ignored embracethe strange.
I wonder do young lovers dreams sail
out into that skyline eternal and free.
Or crash into reallitys rocks.
Leaving them jaded and bitter as me?
The bottle the lips you know better
than the once warm flesh.
Would she reconize the monster.
Or see the sad and helpless mess.
Apon the steps a bottle between perfect strangers and new
best friends.
Passed thoughts lost moments.
A busy streetlight on a empty road.
The hopeless and the charmed exist ina strange harmony
of the citys strange and beautiful tune.
I wonder will I ever know you again?
The angel with demonic lust.
Dreams are a blessing the curse is
only to pretend.
Farwell midnight hello darkness
dusk and sunsets of a yerning heart.
Apon that bench by the the water.
Watching the paper lanterns glow.
As in lost souls they so peacefully depart.
Jun 19, 2010
Jun 19, 2010 at 6:55 AM UTC
The summers love was a harsh winters heartbreak as
the rain came crashing down as I watched thoose tail light's fade.
No words reflect the pain that as men were told to ignore.
The lable faded as the feelings inside.
It was gone without reason.
Making as much sense as it's start.
A funeral for one spiders create the webs
casting shadows apon the sun.
The void filled with pain addictions touch where you never did.
Empty as two in heart.
A losser in grace shakes in the open.
Only to display my weakness in utter isolation.
Outside the storm builds pushing others away.
Jokes fill conversation.
Laughs keep away the worried looks.
Wasted I feel the warmth of happiness thats so
far from all im not.
Lines leading down a road apon a mirror
I close my eyes only to imagine how it does reflect.
Her body warm.
her eyes as vacant as the room in which i exist.
Taking comfort in a action losing all with sweet release.
Fire cant exist in icy water's of a fractured soul.
The moment was a series of traggic events
that forges a mind twisted like steel
Death was a wish when you can no longer taste life.
The addicts logic can never overpower the junkies mind.
Roads that seem distant are only seconds away.
That person a stranger whos return.
Is a threat and Id welcome his destructive return.
In the fog you feel nothing.
As the lost never seem to understand.
I know the secrets to the citys slum.
A blood spattred canvas of eternal blue.
Dim lit nightmares a yerning for a end to
a favorite memory that never was you.
I see the world so traggic tainted
underneath dark glasses so very clear.
A drifted soul is but a leaf apon the ocean.
Driven by winds heading somewhere with no direction.
Just one of the many nights outcast.
Many truths no the power of a lie.
Sunrise comes to fast and the bottle
wont be a lasting friend.
In thoose moments alone we see how togather
we truley never are.
Hold your secrets close as lovers.
tangled and so perfectly ******* up as yourself.
And wake in the bliss of are addictions
Love the flaws and forget the dreams from which
we soon wake.
Jul 29, 2010
Jul 29, 2010 at 5:07 PM UTC
I sat today i watched your way
Some so cold hurried away
A man asking for a pound
To buy his food or ride again
Men in smart clothes to work they dash
No time to sit or eat a snack
Ladies smiling others lurk
Little children looking up
Seeing adults mess it up
Beggars forraging for **** ends find what kind of life they walk behind
Street so full of every kind
Different spoken words so true
Arguments between a few
Lads in crowds having fun
Girls giggling while they run
A man stealing goods from shop
Running from the alarms no stops
People queing for the bus
Dropping paper cleaning mops
Police men walking taxi fares
People meeting others stares
Mindful people walking slow taking in the citys glow
Sad and lonely souls i see looking lost and cold not free
People of all nature here
One race called human kind
All together in my window
Free
Unaware of the picture i see
Old young short tall
Dark light strong small
A city full of people all
Full of love i see them all
Just a moment i sat today
Yet a life time of people i saw walk by
Amazing city now train i take
Back home to a lane a country gate
Total silence falls the night
From country to city a different life
I saw the poverty i saw the poetry
I saw the street painter
The flute being played
The rich the poor the lost the together
My day in the city
A moment to treasure
Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 8:02 PM UTC
~
old stars: the roar of no more
pop up phrase precisely previewing the status quo,
logic argues that a crisp immolation poetic appropriate,
no second chance from cosmic to earth dust risk reversal,
no sadness attaches -
the circle line day trip coming to an end
old stars are not cemetery artifacts,
no blaze of glory, no blade of heroic story, no blare of horns,
a last twinkle, a final tinkling and the soundless
roar of no more,
the star records, the citys deeds, the video feeds,
updated, amended, erased,
old star exits the stage, its light shedding nights, eclipsed,
the poet, the writer, the playwright debate the stars obit,
collude and write
a roar no more
5/23/17 7:23am
May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 7:34 AM UTC
Maybe it was the city's lights that took your
eyes from mine and lead you astray.
memories made in rythm with the citys traffic.
empty barooms waitting to create tales of another day.
Hands held tightly still can slip from anyones grasp.
Hearts filled with passion change without notice.
Old locket loves are bound by rusted clasp.
A walk to togather is so much better than one alone.
Attached by more than words.
Dim lit streets and a sometimes working pay phone.
City your cruel and unforgiving to all.
Cold as a park bench for a bed.
Tugs haunt the water over the sea's wall.
Cheap wine fire from the barrel.
The city reflects a vision of wicked carol.
So does the sun bid farewell to the day.
As the poets take to pen.
I reflect apon the citys lights that lead
your eyes astray
Jan 19, 2010
Jan 19, 2010 at 4:58 AM UTC
I Was Once Lost. Just Seem Like I Couldn't Be Found. I Walked So Many Flights Of Stairs, Up And Down. Traveled Countrys, Citys, Long Roads, Going from Town To Town. Sea To Sea, Oceans And Mountains But Not Once Did I Think About Turning Around. The Search For Who I Was Went For Years. But A Striving Sensation In My Body Told Me I Was Near & Musical Instruments From A far I Could Hear. Finally I Arrived At A Place That Seemed Like The Edge Of The World, Where Many Magical Instruments Just Appeared. I Said To Myself "I'm Here !"
I Was Once Lost, But Myself I Found.
A Man With Infinite Ambition, A Man Of Sound.
Jan 24, 2016
Jan 24, 2016 at 12:06 PM UTC
In the streets the cars do boom, like defening thunder in a room.
Hollerd to the night so clear, come and see and you shall hear!
The sounding of terrific bells,and in the city peoples tell,
that the daylight is good and bright...oh, if only... WHAT A SIGHT!
Jul 9, 2010
Jul 9, 2010 at 12:44 PM UTC
Across the roof-tops of the town
I saw the flaming sun go down;
For some, another day of tears
Lay buried in the hurrying years.
The shadows folded; here and there
A yellow light began to flare.
For some, another golden day
Of gladness sped upon its way
Sep 28, 2011
Sep 28, 2011 at 5:40 PM UTC
her soft skin wraps around my awake mind
slowly
creeping along
i want her soft hair in my mouth
i dont care that
her love only is peice of foil and a straw
i sit next to her
and reach over
pausing before i touch
no objection
voice broken
hands shake
in the wicked wind
on the edge of the storm comin
stands alone waiting as dawn creeps up the sky
tears are pain
tears are a lifetime of regrets
smile has been replaced
helpless gestures
emptyness that follows untill its real
it consumes
its you upon which it feeds
remember me to my friend
on the river road
his is an endless summer
his is a home built for the ages
built with love
remember me to my brother
on the citys edge
his is the mad mad night
his is a road that holds no comfort
built with the broken backs of a thousand lost souls
his is a land that is dark
i cannot abide there
where am i going
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 9:53 AM UTC
I'm a magical, magician and my fee you will pay my commission.
I shall make half the crowd float above the chandelier.
The speed of life, is half of a sphere.
You can take it up with the front desk autioneer.
He will give you all his sneer that he
found last year.
Me, and him, are now good friends.
Going to distant, citys to show are art.
In hopes to spark your thirst for more.
River's pour from my mind to take your life of a now boat.
Down, the street once blank only trees grow on the turf.
Citizens eye see the sky and below is a smurf.
Jun 23, 2017
Jun 23, 2017 at 1:27 PM UTC
the worst prisons arent in citys
arent the ones with bars
but the prisons we lock ourselves in
the prisons that live in our heads
Dec 3, 2021
Dec 3, 2021 at 12:30 PM UTC
Remember the nights of KirkWood,
Putting behind the restaurants
Having penny brews,
Utterances of "the world is ours if only, if only"
If only we knew,
Life's eventual consignment,
Would we still sit in ****** idleness
Would we still shrink from our fearfulness,
Would we still resolve to our confinement.
I can't keep myself from yawning
And stuttering in the cognitive fog
"What's the word, what's the word"
Ideas stumbling along.
Minor in a major song
Claustrophobia in the citys throng
Tethered to hayseed communities,
Languishing in outer fringe suburbia.
Apr 25, 2018
Apr 25, 2018 at 1:53 AM UTC