"hometowns" poems
*Faith in the tempered evening , for the Friday night reverberation -
of hometowns just over the Shamrock green horizon
For the day end Amber-glow of well kept -
Summer gardens
Blessed is the power of tonights Harvest Moon
The Suns early dedication to the Chattahoochee flora of the coming June
For morning dew prisms that ignite rolling hayfields
For talking Indian rivers , Railroad townships and period Flour Mills*
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 9:20 PM UTC
My memories are alphebetized and filed in steel cabinets
But at least I've never paid taxes.
These tracks rack my heavy head,
And with consistancy of lose lead I find I make my bed
Eastward and upward and moving forward feels back asswards
And not only have my once-loved-ones forgot their own adivce...
They let street rats dine, dash and flash feces like crack rocks.
School of the soft-knox they bare qualities close to the itch of a chicken pock.
Rockin' failure in the lines on their faces, I've placed this between I and U,
These steel tracks rack, my, how the time does fly when
You've never paid taxes.
And I'm dusting off files close forgotten,
Tucking rotten ones behind other cold cases
Using laughter to mock roofed and mute traces of
Never more and here we go again.
But if only! If only the woodpecker croaked!
Jokes pried from pedestals marked "short lived" -
Six suicides long and my hometowns *** is wound so tight
It actually drops diamonds. of course in spite of this
The majority spit is ****
Misery takes to masses, foul stench latched, snatched,
Roofed and mute and at least I've never paid taxes.
(Written 3/12)
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 10:17 PM UTC
I’ll hold you like a memory
Hometowns between sheets
Make midnight forever
Like winter is always
Make love like jazz
Play trumpets with dreams
Apr 16, 2017
Apr 16, 2017 at 1:56 AM UTC
200,000
200 K
200 thou
Reads as of today
I wrote of Orion
And silly sleigh rides
Wrote about hometowns
And passionate nights
****** damnable wars
And narcissistic politicians
Wrote sorrowful elegies
Extolled the human condition
Offered odes to loved ones
And critiqued the powerful
Celebrated the splendor of nature
And children most wonderful
Honked loud about jazz
And hot improvisation
Poked fun at the MoMA
Held deep blue introspection
We got many more reads
Than actual likes
I’m growing concerned
That I have more dislikes
But here is one more
Silly trite poem
I hope you like it
You can read it at home
Thanks for all your support….
Simon and Garfunkel
Poem on the Underground Wall
Love Mac…..
Oakland
5/23/16
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 12:58 PM UTC
I arrived anonymous,
Mother's tongue raising no eyebrows in this town of travellers.
Settling together in our disparate roles,
We gingerly trade skills and share tales.
Our alien conventions lack legitimacy here,
A tender fog cushioning idiosyncrasies.
In hometowns,
Once-tranquil homes become restless.
But in this enclave,
Foreigners feather new nests.
...Until Basel is where we belong.
Dec 29, 2011
Dec 29, 2011 at 4:24 AM UTC
I pretend that I hate nebraska
because that's what teenagers do
we b i t c h
and we w h i n e
c o m p l a i n
about our home towns
our home states
our home countries
we justify our desire to be
g o n e
a w a y
o u t of this place
with made up facts
about our ****** up hometowns
we never stop
to think
there must be a reason my parents chose to live
h e r e
honestly I have nothing against nebraska
my resentment comes from the desire to be
f r e e
which is just one letter away from
h e r e
so freedom can't be too far in the distance
the truth is nebraska can be pretty great sometimes
there's an honesty
an energy
an optimism that could only be found
in a state where even the city kids
know about the country life
and even though summers bring
90 degree weather
and humid humid h u m i d air
while winters bring
subzero temperatures
and
1
2
3
4
5
6
inches of snow
we don't complain too much about the weather
and a "nice day" could be
30 degrees and snow
50 degrees and rain
80 degrees and heat
we take what we can get
because nebraskans are not
g r e e d y
we made this state our own
but still we get lumped together with
iowakansasmissouricoloradoohioillinois
but we are not k a n s a s
we are not m i s s o u r i
we are not o h i o
and we are not
i o w a
don't even suggest that
we are
N e b r a s k a
and nothing else
we take pride in our state
though there's not much to be proud of
but we are p r o u d anyways
and I think that's beautiful
other places are about
c o m p e t i t i o n
biggerbetterbiggerbetter
but in nebraska we are all each other's neighbors
friends
caregivers
nebraskans stick together
no matter what
and that's why
when your car is barreling across that bridge that links
nebraska and iowa
across that **** river
you will see a rusted green sign
welcoming you to this state that always has nice days
takes pride in every moment
and sticks together
you will see words painted in white spelling out
"the good life"
because sure no matter where you go
life *****
but at least here the people are
g o o d
and some times that's enough
this is not the good life
this is the extraordinary life
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 12:25 AM UTC
I’ve discovered a world in your eyes. Brilliant blue surround black. I’ve discovered fear there. Trust, too. Lust, love, and secrets. All hiding hiding hiding, resisting discovery.
I’ve mapped exotic lands on the planes of your arms. We’ll escape there if the parents start shouting, if the people start pointing. If the doubt weighs heavy. We’ll run there when the “ifs” become truth.
In the dark I carved a labyrinth into your skin. Later, when it’s just you and me, we’ll roam there. We’ll love ourselves in the walls built high. You and I will live there. Talk there. Discover there.
I built a small black box to put our fear in. To hide our pasts in. To fill with our doubt. To free our minds, so we can explore. So we can map continents. Galaxies. Universes.
We’ll map stars, planets, cities and towns. Eyes hipbones, necks, and hands. We’ll explore hometowns, bodies and minds. We’ll build futures, laughter and trust.
Molly we’ll burn bridges, inhibition, and hate
Molly I’ll hold you close while the cities fall. I’ll map your lips with mine. I’ll show you my flaws and fall in love with yours. Molly we’ll find paradise. We’ll lose reality. We’ll find ourselves. Find each other. Build worlds of our own.
Oct 1, 2010
Oct 1, 2010 at 6:35 AM UTC
I see you wincing in pain, eyes half shut
knuckles turning white as you tried to fight
tried to fight their words in your head
crying out, screaming in pain,saying
"You don't understand and you never will"
It feels right to struck them
slicing through their flesh with their own blade
sharp words fueled by foolishness and self-assurance
screaming, screaming
"You don't understand and you never will"
Because you are what you are,
Each time a laugh
escapes from their poisonous mouths,
amused with their callous jokes
feels like a stab,a strike, a blow
You grieve for your people
while they sit and jest
forgetting how we are of the same blood and flesh
only separated by miles and faith
And if we could only scream:
It's easy to joke about the chaos
when you're not helpless in the city of lost souls
using your gun trigger of a tounge
ignoring the fact that somewhere real bullets are being fired
the sound of bombs going off piercing the air
as people scramble, scatter, and run for their lives
It's easy to joke about it
when you're not there
robbed of your rights
staying hidden, cowering in fear
It's easy for you to act like this
like an immature piece of sh*t
hiding behind your screen
convincing yourself that if you pretend long enough
maybe they'd cease to exist
But they won't disappear
see all the bodies laid in the sidewalks to rot
see every household and streets stained crimson with blood
hear the children weeping for their mothers and fathers
hear the sound of mosques and hometowns crumbling to the ground
See them, see the fallen men in green
their eyes cast upward to the sky
their blood sprinkling the earth
agony written on their faces
for this is the price of keeping their solemn vow
It's easy to wallow in apathy
easy to carelessy throw words around
when you wouldn't be greeted with caskets
when you wouldn't be driven out of your land
when you wouldn't lose the home of your faith
when you are not them
You forget that once Mindanao
is completely consumed,devoured
they'll be coming for us
by then, who will fight for you
who will pray for you
maybe no one,maybe they'll just joke around
and they'll laugh because they aren't you
And you'll remember when you weren't them
So see them, flinching as you laugh
fighting your words in their head
crying, screaming
"Please, please, please stop"
-W.
Aug 10, 2017
Aug 10, 2017 at 10:52 AM UTC
Where oh where is my worldy wisdom
That can set this place straight
Why oh why should we wait to change
When the ball is in motion – technically circulation
What man will decide to be god and
Direct all these direction less folk
Back to their hometowns
New roads or
Uncharted sees
I don’t think I have lived the happiest days of my life yet
I guess I am waiting for her to say
“Travel with me”
Because,
I’m afraid
If I ask her and she said “no”
For whatever reason
I accept and understand
I’d still have to go
No matter the season
And if and when, that time comes and it happens
And I fall madly in love deep into my voyage
This is the day,
I will take my god a little more seriously
Seriously.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 5:54 PM UTC
Knowing I'll be feeling hopeless and could use the direction
the distraction.
What is the use?
I need to feel like I am being significant
But I am significant
But why bother?
there is no deadline
there is no action.
i find that time runs slow in the morning
eight skips later then it's 8 pm
three nights in a row
but what is happening?
Where is my will
my willingness
to REALLY live?
Everything
is always the same
same thoughts
same drive
but a drive to nowhere but dreams on broken foundations
monotonous.
I have to push myself, I know I must.
to be able to OPEN my eyes and SEE
because all I see is fog.
I am aware?
I do not feel aware.
i am trapped in a misty humid fog, waving my arms gasping.
trying to breathe
dying to breathe
i cannot breathe.
I want to experience life in all its glories
And I would have
Or do I just think I would have?
if circumstances weren't so hilariously unfunny
Why?
why do i get the thing i have wanted most,
At the cost of another?
I don't even get a say in the decision-making,
I am merely just the puppet in this simulation
Playing out the scenes after the act.
Why?
That's because the forces of the universe have a sense of humor.
I very dislike change, and so it finds me a perfect match.
But others who wish they can leave their hometowns, have to stay stagnant until adulthood.
Where is my right to a less stressful childhood?
Why.
why am i being forced to grow up?
Being forced to mature or else i cannot keep up
being organized is the only thing that keeps me sane
It is the only thing that I have control over
One of the only things I have control over.
I am the physical manifestation of anxiety
Screaming
to be heard
to be n o t i c e d
to be mistaken for art
It was
a way of rebellion in a circumstance where i was forced to mature quick
robbed of non-persistent
non-insistent thoughts
So i hope fate is happy now.
For through the course you have run,
you have molded this puppet,
exactly how you have planned.
you can check me off your list
Jul 22, 2020
Jul 22, 2020 at 7:42 AM UTC
Ears pricking, only quietly haunting any other type and skirting the edges of things wolfishly, I’m howling all of the things that build up at a forever indifferent moon, pupils narrow in the light from a cracked phone screen, insatiable, academics are another breed altogether, we go back to our hometowns and feel too big inside, consumed
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 11:46 PM UTC
Small things make me
They bring me closure
Small things close in on me...
They hold me tight
And keep me warm
Small things make me
They take my breath away
Small things have less doors,
Less room for baggage and pain
Small things are hometowns
With no room to grown
Small things bring you suitcases full
Of old love and whiskey and bad love
That you start to miss
Small things are all of the things
You want to take back, relive, redo,
Small things are too small for you
And all that you deserve
Small things are small because
You are an incredibly big thing
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 2:02 AM UTC
We stray far from a land turned to ash
We sail away from the perils of warfare
Passing through guarded political borders
And hiding in the blind spots of armed watchtowers
We're gonna get there.
There are five of us split between two boats
One boat suffered damages during our escape
While the men are free from their slavery, they are still forced to work
Throwing buckets of water overboard, in rhythm with the waves
We're gonna get there.
As the sun begins to sink into the sea behind us
We spot dark clouds forming ahead
As thick as the smoke from the burning city we fled
We will be hit by the storm, just like our hometowns
We're gonna get there.
In the wind we swayed back and fourth
The damaged boat crumbles away. Three men drown.
They died with dignity. They died as free men.
We must push onward. We cannot let their sacrifice be for naught.
We're gonna get there.
We spend the rest of our days reassuring ourselves
Ensuring we know what we did was right
We spend the rest of our days searching
Travelling the crossroad between life and death
We're gonna get there.
To the promised land.
Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 11:41 AM UTC
great writers make
names of their hometowns.
i am no great writer.
no great writer
could make something
of this nothing.
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 9:08 PM UTC
I was with a friend in a bar in downtown Prague,
It was one of those nights where we only want a couple drinks,
But that doesn't happen.
For we meet a few nice lads who enjoyed their drink,
And the girl they were with seemed like a little fink,
So we indulged ourselves in idle chatter; about hometowns and travels which we soon forget..
But my eyes remain upon this assumed *****
But her lack of interest is causing a bore,
So I separate to find a new friend,
One who can keep me warm in my conceited mind,
For I do not care for the physical action,
As long as she is stimulated by my interaction.
But as the drinks add up,
And the bill gets higher.
I begin to lose faith in my ingenuity,
And begin to scoff at my insecurity,
So I find the nearest *****
Who couldn't quite cut it before,
And I discuss how it was a glitch,
I didn't approach her at the door.
And we begin to talk,
About something I don't remember now,
But I'm sure it was smart and obscure,
Maybe about a meaningless cure..
But the night soon ends,
And I don't have my credit,
So we ****
And leave.
And I wonder if she thought the same thing.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 7:22 PM UTC
We are always trying to get away
The Winter is dark, and cold, and im terrified
because I might get bad again
I would move far away
Somewhere warm
When we grow up,
We grow out of hometown angst
you made me find the beauty in Winter
The beauty in such a familiar place
Memory
Family
The places where we were happy
Why are we always trying to get away
You came back and you said
“I forget how much I miss this place”
“I forget how much I miss you”
You bought a my Chemical Romance album on vinyl
It’s comforting to know you still have as much angst as I do
We climb to the top of the parking garage the last time that year
Alice is gone
Off-white paint replaces her face
I still lock arms with you like I use to
It’s cold
But its beautiful
You hold my face in your hands
I look away to see our entire world encased in ice and orange lights
You sometimes feel like coming home
Like my hometown
It’s early
I saw the footprints in the snow and remember years ago
seeing footprints in the sand and realizing the people who left them had their own thoughts and feeling
The fresh snow glistens and I suddenly found beautiful
The wind took my breath away
Not figuratively
literally
I can’t breathe
Why don’t I have a ******* scarf
We have unfinished business
At 3:35 in the morning you texted me
“I guess we could kiss again”
You’re like my hometown
When I look at you
I see cold nights in your car
Hands somehow finding each other in the dark when we aren’t looking
The pier
Cutting my foot at the lake, you kept telling me DON’T LOOK DOWN IT’S NOT BLEEDING THAT BAD
it was.
you bought me ice cream after
You’re like my hometown
you’re memory
Family
The one that made me happy
Why are we always trying to leave
You bought another My Chemical Romance album on vinyl
And you wrote a song about a girl with pink hair
and someone you called a “rambunctious ****
You have so much angst
but so do i
I miss you.
Sep 2, 2017
Sep 2, 2017 at 10:57 AM UTC
it feels
a little bit like a dream
the way we would gather in the night
and walk the same path
with hushed whispers
down the elevator
into the lounge
taking our unspoken places
whispering among ourselves
about the day's adventures
but then we would be seated
and someone would break the seal of silence
and we would begin to talk...
about life
about love
about lust
about our futures
our dreams
our deaths
we would predict for each other
what we saw in their crystal ball
though we knew each other
for less days than i can count on my hands
we heard stories about ***
stories about friends
about hometowns
about heartbreak
we shared as many laughs as there are stars in the sky...
and when it all ended
i wondered where the time had gone
or if i had imagined it all.
Jul 10, 2019
Jul 10, 2019 at 1:50 AM UTC