"condominium" poems
C'mon out to the rattled caves
the deep-sea malaise
rested in the grey metamorphs
of an ancient coastal chain
Where Sisyphean slips of tectonic rifts
pull the molding clay
like play-dough
and old rock that turns anew
churned into
great catacomb stele
Babylonian towers far away
from the great
Mesopotamic
interstate
Surrounded by the immumerous trees
the military sharpness of their pine
quills writing their mark in the dirt
for a hundred turns or so
only to be rearranged
into the great intercontinental soil
Truly
multisolipsistual
And on the aggregate
held open the mists
of the vast expanse of ocean
beyond L.A
and stole the fruits of the tiny parceled condominium rainwater
from distance far away
angry men shouting--
"Give us back our life blood, GOD **** YOU!"
Filling the tanks of their fleshomobiles
running around and sweating it out
trading it for cloth and wiping their brow on
brown shirts
perturbed and disobeyed
But that great man with the chin muscatche
brought the rough riders out of their dome
into the frontier, riding trains
Off they go!
Seeking paradise in the sands
and the trees
and the coastal breeze
dreaming
of a world owned and seen
by the world
by man
and by all these things
It would be grand
But that rock has been seen before
in Luarentian islands long ago
or perhaps a great FUJI-SAN of the west coast
worshiped by critters and dinosaurs
You are late to the game, sweet dreamers, you!
These monuments give to honor due
not you,
no sir did you build these things?
did you mold these things
with the patience of a father
with the consequentiality
of the womb
and a motherly affection
for all things true?
the gift is for you,
remember your father's gifts
sweet princes of the earth
because they will outlive you.
And I walk along the stream
stepping upon these little bits of Yosemite
Pulverized mountain rocks
Renal Stones of the diseased
to which the water flushed out deeply
and cured the grey things from all that left them
displeased
hoping for more than just selfies
and sticking it to god's face
laughing at half-dome
climbing it and getting the better of ourselves
Believing we have achieved bliss
When in reality,
there is nothing to this which we can reach.
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 5:19 PM UTC
The first fight club was just Tyler and I
pounding on each other.
It used to be enough that when I came home angry
and knowing that my life wasn't toeing my five-year plan,
I could clean my condominium or detail my car.
Someday I'd be dead without a scar
and there would be a really nice condo and car.
Really, really nice,
until the dust settled
or the next owner.
Nothing is static.
Even the Mona Lisa is falling apart.
Since fight club, I can wiggle half the teeth in my jaw.
Maybe self-improvement isn't the answer.
Tyler never knew his father.
Maybe self-destruction is the answer.
Tyler and I still go to fight club, together.
Fight club is in the basement of a bar, now,
after the bar closes on Saturday night,
and every week you go
there's more guys there.
Tyler gets under the one light
in the middle of the black concrete basement
and he can see that light flickering
back out of the dark
in a hundred pairs of eyes.
First thing Tyler yells is,
"The first rule about fight club
is you don't talk about fight club.
"The second rule about fight club,"
Tyler yells,
"is you don't talk about fight club."
Me,
I knew my dad for about six years,
but I don't remember anything.
My dad,
he starts a new family
in a new town
about every six years.
This isn't so much a family
as it's like he sets up a franchise.
What you see at fight club
is a generation of men
raised by women.
...
You aren't alive anywhere like you are at fight club.
When its you and one other guy
under that one light
in the middle of all those watching.
Fight club isn't about winning or losing fights.
Fight club isn't about words.
You see a guy come to fight club for the first time,
and his *** is a loaf of white bread.
You see the same guy here six months later,
and he looks carved out of wood.
This guy trusts himself to handle anything.
There's grunting and noise at fight club
like at the gym,
but fight club isn't about looking good.
There's hysterical shouting in tongues
like at church,
and when you wake up Sunday afternoon
you feel saved.
Aug 12, 2012
Aug 12, 2012 at 9:25 PM UTC
i love
volcanoes
even mighty man
cannot halt the flow
of molten earth
the plume
of ash and fury
no roads, no condominium
will be constructed
on the pile of
untouchable mountain
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 11:00 PM UTC
I was leaning over the railings
Of your condominium's 11th floor fire exit.
It was a beautiful night, just a clear sky
Filled with stars.
I was smoking then while
You were just standing right behind me,
I leaned a little bit more.
You told me to stand back
"Aren't you scared?"
I told you that i have conquered
My fear of heights
Long before we spoke again
After weeks of complete silence.
I wasn't lying.
I wasn't afraid of falling—
dying anymore.
But that morning,
Your hands around my waist,
Lips on the nape of my neck
Just breathing,
I drowned.
My throat closed up,
My lungs filled with your scent,
My heart got heavier.
Your touch wasn't supposed to make me
Feel every inch i loved about you.
I was falling again,
Dying for your love;
I thought i have conquered my fear.
"Aren't you scared?"
Terrified.
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 3:27 AM UTC
The drifter in the room is a stranger,
he is crazy, is Bigfoot with deer moccasins on−
monster of condominium rooms and dreams.
The drifter in this room used to be my friend.
He spoke straight sentences, they did not sound like poetry-
reverberated like a narrative, special lines good a few bad,
or stories being unwound by the tongue of a gentleman,
lip service, juggler of simple words to children.
The night is a dark believer in drifters,
they sound sober, affairs with the wind,
the 3 A.M. honking of the Metro trains.
Everything sleeps with a love, a nightmare at night.
The drifter.
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 7:38 AM UTC
I know we aren't on good terms since we aren't speaking anymore, and the last time we encountered each other you barely acknowledged me. There was a time when I was really angry at you. I suspect we aren't friends anymore because you don't think I value the friendship we had as much as you did. I know why you would think that. After all, you are the more considerate one. You were the one who always made sure I puke in the toilet instead of on myself or on the lobby floor of the high-rise condominium you used to live in. You were the one who would listen to my ranting like an all-night sanitary napkin. You were my best friend, and I know I was more of a problem than a friend. But I hope you know that I know I didn't measure up. You were the best friend a girl with issues could ever have. Even with your own, you would make me feel like mine was the issue that mattered more. Since I have to live with not having you anymore I want to pose a retort to the problem you were once faced with. You once said to me "I don't know how to help you anymore." Well, I'm glad to report that--- although my problems may not puzzle you any longer---it is no longer necessary to . If I can't fix my past, I'll have to make sure I prepare for the future, that is the rest of my life. I refuse to live in death. I insist that you forget the unsolvable problems that come in your life. Allow me to fix myself. Allow me to say thank you for being in my life at a time that I needed you. Thank you for leaving me to my own devices. I thought I would die without friends. My life today is mine. It was no small feat being a friend to me. I hope you belong in your life and belong in life. See you on the other side.
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 7:55 AM UTC
stacked high at the end of Seventh St
in a darkened alley, as high as seven feet
is a condominium of empty dreams and hope
falling down in the rain, slipping down the slope
home to many of one of the finally lost
coming home, breathing crystals of frost
averaged by the meaning of the total cost
Here, they are no more less, than garbage tossed
stacked high at the end of Seventh St
where home and hearth is just a heartbeat
where a pillow under the head is just concrete
there is nothing less than a lie, a thief or a cheat
and laying on the ground, with nothing to eat
is an act of defiance but the moment is fleet
stacked high the end of Seventh St
in an alley that echoes with the sound of defeat
compressed paper layers become home complete
here lays just one person,
inside his castle of cardboard,
blessing the ****** Mary for his penthouse suite
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 6:44 AM UTC
i do not have a home.
i do not live in the one you imagined for us -
no condominium or house, just a basement apartment,
rented each month for nine hundred and fifty dollars,
filled with furniture and memories that don't belong to me
and two tiny windows that make it all seem fine,
like, someday, i'll graduate and move onto better,
bigger and better things that i am currently
working my *** off for - only hoping i don't regret it.
this basement apartment (if you can even call it that)
is cold and lonely and nothing like how i wish to be.
home isn't a person or a place,
it is just an illusion people have created
to feel happy and safe and at peace with the world.
home does not exist for me.
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 6:16 PM UTC
Woke from a nap
To feel that
A bumblebee
Was in my head
Flipping to
Flying fro
Humming honey tunes
As he goes
I have heard
It echoing
With all the room
Inside my head
Moving this
Tossing that
Rearanging
All the mess
With the hearing of
Funny sounds
From building up
To tearing down
Didn't take him long
To figure out
The exits through
My ears and mouth
Where he went
And told his friends
Brought them back
Took them in
Set up shop
Collected rent
A bumblebee
Condominium
And to think all this
Started with
What I thought
Was a simple nap
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 9:32 AM UTC
The good life.
Just show casing your success.
Living great enough to be considered apart of the higher class.
With your expensive cars and condominium style house.
But in a gated community everything's not right.
And it always shows when violence comes into their lives.
Some seems shocked and amazed that they are not safe.
But, whoever said gated community protects you from anything.
Having security comes from yourself.
Not fearing the world and the people within.
Like a dog can sense your fear.
It's the same with criminals when they breaks it.
Some long for the best in life.
While many knows a gated community doesn't stop violence at all.
It just hides secrets.
Until they are exposed and comes to light.
When you think you're secured.
Some are aware that you really not sure.
Cause a gated community seems to give a false impression to some.
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 7:22 AM UTC
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Oct 16, 2015
Oct 16, 2015 at 5:57 AM UTC
Today is the day for the followed few
The ears of old and eyes of new
The fallen propaganda waves for notice
This ideal, this condominium – you chose it
The pavement is harsh and burning
The trees need salvation: they’re yearning,
For the day of sun soaked shadows,
Not this boxed world framed from a window
Pick up your shoes: pull up your socks
Plan a plan, before it all just
stops
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 8:36 PM UTC
*strained and molded midnight brain
encounter unknown cell tower overwatch
spill water catch twenty two revolver tribute
merganser interceptor ravenous soul sport
epic fail condominium
Brick island overlook star gazer Kansas revolt
lear jet appetite ebony sincere lambasted trivial
revolution
correspondent irregular depth californian intrinsic
substitution despondent calibrated ocean going
counter measure*
Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 1:24 AM UTC
I write you my love, with words like a lonely angel
For eternity you have my dark adoration
Being with you was one in a million
Nothing compares to all the situations
From the domestic violence
To the endless interventions
To the drugs we did together
To the constant confrontations
To the cops we avoided
And the hit-and-miss rehabilitation
I'm so sorry you fell...
A whisper to our past
Haunting my future
Hinting at the emotions
Hearing your aberration
Beyond the earth and years
Wondering if this was all a dream, or just tragic fiction
When I look up at the stars, they give your description
In every city that we traveled
I wrote a diary at every station
I recorded every tear, every scream
Every laugh, every sensation.
The times you walked out of my car
The times I locked you out of the condominium
After we would both forgive so easily
We kept a strong and struggling relation
Though you are no longer by my side,
I walk the earth waiting,
For the day the end comes
And the goodbye becomes a reunion
Without fear, without hesitation
May 2, 2016
May 2, 2016 at 12:39 PM UTC
Students everywhere feel a close relationship with summer. It develops early and you never lose it. It’s durable.
Let's poeticize..
It was a youthful summer of unblemished mirth.
In play, our youthful hours were freely spent.
We bore such idleness - we were indulgent.
Until Lisa confessed she was less so content
and longed desperately for a ‘wholesome reunion’
with her love (Dave) and to resume that courtship in the same
fevered spirit as when they last parted, in Paris.
“Life’s complicated,” Lisa offered, at the end of our talk.
“So complicated,” I agreed.
It’s amazing how quickly a plan can coalesce.
ANNND, we’re back in Manhattan, at Lisa’s (parents) 50th floor residence.
I asked Karen (Lisa’s Mom) once, “If you own this (a floor of a building) is it called an apartment, a condominium..,” my voice faded on the question.
“A residence,” she answered after a moment’s thought. She’s a lawyer.
Georgia got too hot. Not to dwell on the grotesque side of girlhood - but enough sweat already.
Shakespeare (Henry IV) wrote, “sweat extraordinarily, if it be a hot day.” Yep, done that - for really.
In lieu of all our pains, we now want AC, high-end amenities, constant concierge services and stunning views.
We’ll be back in New Haven in nine short days - and back in class in eighteen.
Call 911, someone’s stolen our summer!
.
.
Songs for this:
New York City Serenade by Bruce Springsteen
New York State of Mind by Billy Joel
Aug 10, 2024
Aug 10, 2024 at 10:31 PM UTC
To escape
The horrors
And reality
Of life
Is enjoyable
May it be
Roadtrips
And city lights
Or highway reflectors
May it be
In relics
In museums
Or paintings
In hallways
May it be
In dark movie theaters
On summer nights
Or in sunlit parks
On summer afternoons
May it be
With the love of your life
On condominium balconies
Or on soft beds
Escape
The reality
Of the cruel world
Dec 4, 2016
Dec 4, 2016 at 10:34 AM UTC
the condominium i have stayed in
for almost two years now
stands at forty-five
stories high.
from the ground below
it looks like some skyscraper
a scrambled mess of uniformity
and abstraction.
i live on the thirty-sixth floor.
sometimes,
as i stare up its great height,
i find myself counting the windows,
trying to pinpoint my temporary home
from my blurry place on the earth below.
around this tower of concrete there is only air.
behind it the sky sits white and endless.
i live on the thirty-sixth floor.
i find myself thinking:
if i jump,
i'd never survive the fall.
maybe
it is one of those high-enough cliffs
that i'd feel myself falling
for an age
before the shatter.
a breathless,
screaming
thrill
before the end.
after looking my fill
i bring my gaze to the path in front of me again,
my mind returned to earth,
and walk,
steady.
i live on the thirty-sixth floor.
once, i opened the door
to the great open sky
and met the eyes
of the earth below.
the height brought with it
a vertigo i could not name.
from here,
the road below was perhaps as thick as a finger.
my heart pounded in time
with the shriek of traffic.
my feet lifted onto my toes
and i thought:
the fall would **** me,
easy.
i thought:
i am so small.
the idea is comforting
in the strangest way.
i step back,
my feet refinding floor tile,
hands fumbling for the handle,
and close the door.
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 4:38 AM UTC
The skyline's changing,
there's a condominium
built up on the lake,
at our secret place.
the place where
we held hands,
first kissed
& skipped stones
& wished on falling stars,
where I found my first arrowhead.
Some of the best places
sre long gone....
and my heart cries
on your sweet memory.
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 12:30 PM UTC
At its zenith, perhaps in the first half
of the 1st millennium AD, Teotihuacan
was the largest city in the pre-Columbian
Americas, with a population estimated
at 125,000 or more, making it at least the sixth
largest city in the world during its epoch.
Apart from the pyramids, Teotihuacan
is also anthropologically significant
for its complex, multi-family
residential compounds,
the Avenue of the Dead & its vibrant murals
that have been exceptionally well-preserved.
Additionally, Teotihuacan exported
fine obsidian tools that are found
throughout Mesoamerica.
The city is thought to have been established
around 100 BC, with major monuments
continuously under construction until
about AD 250. The city may have lasted
until sometime between the 7th &
8th centuries AD, but its major monuments
were sacked & systematically burned around AD 550.
Teotihuacan began as a religious center
in the Mexican Highlands around the first century AD.
It became the largest and most populated
center in the pre-Columbian Americas.
Teotihuacan was even home to multi-floor
apartments & condominium compounds
built to accommodate
a large & growing population.
The term Teotihuacan (or Teotihuacano) is also used for the whole civilization and cultural complex associated with the site.
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 3:54 PM UTC
I.
This bed shares memories
of both pleasure and sensations
of disappointing traces sliding
aimlessly at bodies that were
once embellished here
Spaces, limited spaces where our
lips thrashed against each other
The warm embracing around
your hips
Adventures down your neck
My head resting between your *******
Or when alcohol would put us
in somber sleep
Before that, prayers hoping
that for once, our touches were real
Symbolic, how you'd visit before
light even comes - nocturnal animals
Entangled bare naked asunder
It couldn't be me and her
in between without you
II.
Time, again and again stripped
the edges aren't territories
anymore
Silk Roads adjoining continents
One, amorously full of vigor
The other, waiting for an exclamation
of retreat
No third parties are allowed totalizing
the pardons we once kept secret
Flesh is weak; Life, pretentions
The ****** exploding; I hear my stomach whimper
God! I exclaim
All this worth for scraps
We hide behind the tall buildings
Go back once more from
whence we came
May 25, 2018
May 25, 2018 at 7:02 AM UTC