"englewood" poems
If you wanted change
You should have asked for growth
You have what it takes
And you should have known
The lines that people like
I draw with no cohesion
They're simply strung together
Like your scarred, forgotten lesions
Like a message that hadn't
Been conveyed in a while
The fault line is lost
In the curves of your smile
Your teeth, like the ocean,
Wave in the wind
They have conjured up anger
For less fortunate men
I've sailed in search of demons
And twelve month old dreams
Yet I'll never find either
At least, that's how it seems
As I fiddle with theme
And get lost in motifs
I can't feel anything
Walking nonfiction streets
Mar 10, 2013
Mar 10, 2013 at 4:02 PM UTC
Three stories tall, and a city block wide
I created this castle with no place to hide
"The World's Fair Hotel", you might know it well
Located in Englewood, my own private Hell.
I hired and fired through its construction
To fully ensure only I knew its power of destruction.
Once it was built, I hired employees
Female and blonde, my favorites of playthings
Under conditions of insurance policies
Of which I would pay (but I was also the beneficiary)
Soundproof suites so sweet to my ears
With gas lines to asphyxiate you - Drowning in fears
Or my secret hanging chamber
And lime pits to change you from human to stranger
I took pride in stripping you to bone and sold you to medical schools, made professors seem fools, all of you dead and alive at my disposal
All in all, 200 was the proposal, I confessed to 27 and later to 2...my dying wish is that I could have done it to you.
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 12:17 PM UTC
Dwarfed by concrete and steel, I struggle to
catch, to grasp that which has been stolen by
swift phantom hands and soft dying light who
whisper, caress, remind. They draw my eye
to the setting sun, the dying fire,
the phoenix’s last embers burning out.
The day’s enchantment will soon expire.
Lips drawn down, brows furrowing in a pout.
The same spectral breezes tug on my shirt,
Pull me towards the tracks that lead me home.
Night sweeps across the sky in silken skirts,
richly colored, bejewelled with precious stones.
I must hurry. Must leave promptly, before
Night regresses into a ****** *****
May 24, 2018
May 24, 2018 at 1:26 PM UTC