"marketplaces" poems
Oh Archie,
The Don speaks so kindly to our generation...
I wish you were here to hear,
To lament, with me...
Oh Archie,
It seems so difficult this modern life.
This place of no rewards,
...no one knows what started it all,
how life was great once here in America.
Oh Archie,
They've taken over your favorite past-time, television!
They're everywhere nowadays my love...
You can't get away from them; like cock-a-roaches.
I see them out in the marketplaces and wonder;
"Can these people understand English?"
"Do they remember that white people saved the world in WWII?"
"Do they care that someone else built civilization?"
Oh Archie,
...my love,
I miss you.
Sep 18, 2016
Sep 18, 2016 at 11:05 PM UTC
Walk with me, with calloused feet and weary eyes
Walk with me, through crowded marketplaces
Where they bargain over the price of love
And bodies are sold for a song
Walk with me, dusk is far away still
Our anklets are shackles, our souls a shroud
The market is a sea of sharks today
Their gleaming, moist teeth threaten and lure
Walk with me, my love, my heart, the air in my lungs
Let’s breathe freedom one last time
Where the tinkling laughter of a child is still heard
And the nights are still scented with jasmine
Walk with me, as our prices are fixed
For the sway in our hips, or the curve of our lips
Walk with me, dusk is approaching
And the auctioneer’s hammer is about to fall
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 1:23 AM UTC
bitter air pours through cracked windows at sixty miles per hour
dashboards turn to focal points turn to the only sight i'll keep from these days
and the nighttime pitch black glosses over moments of eyes glazed
the week's exhaustion turns each of us up, empty and dour
we work through our days and leave the waking hours to devour
sprawled over small couches and cold basement floors, always dazed
we come alive to mood music and greasy food at odd hours, forever unfazed
we make each spontaneous saturday night, uniquely and quietly ours
the clock in the dash reckons 3:46am in a thin, strobing green
he blinks hard, weary eyes and overworked body, fighting against the morning
and the neon signs of the little old marketplaces, oh, how they sing
we wire ourselves and electrify our moments with caffeine
we crash and burn and forget every night, ignoring our own warnings
and the sleepless sacrifices for each other's wonder, oh, the upswing.
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 7:59 PM UTC
There is Presence. Presence....and there is Light.
“Where am I? What and Who am I? Am I alive or dead?"
A suppressed thought makes itself known, “You were once Enkidu....” The simultaneous recognition and brilliance of the place kept Enkidu awestruck and unable to act. Suddenly, sounds. As if they were coming from somewhere inside Enkidu rather than off in the distance. They funneled into each other, a chorus of voices both alien and familiar crescendoing finally into an empty silence from which the most clear whisper he had ever heard trickled forth. Its reverberations vibrating his form as it spoke:
*“This is the Kingdom of light, as it is, which no city on earth can equal. See how its network of light points provide the foundation for the most masterful of physical world’s architecture. Climb the undulating, gyre staircase, built of alternating circuits of thought and emptiness. Go! And approach the dwelling of your true Self, sacred to the all that is, and equalled by no earthly aspect that could ever be. Make your way through the kingdom of light and follow it through to the end.
Realize the equanimity of its presence, examine the truth that creates this platform of existence and see how it pours itself constantly into the construction of the physical world; its palm trees, gardens, orchards, the glorious palaces and temples, the shops and marketplaces, the houses, and the public squares. This is the dwelling of the infinite presence pervading the universe as an imperishable and unchanging force. Welcome to that which is beyond both is and is not...."*
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 1:43 PM UTC
Wonderful town of Whitby, hundreds of marketplaces,
England's own astounding alleys of traditional aces,
Many things this obscure area tends to hide,
the most enjoyable boating docks and brine and quayside.
With cobbled streets aplenty,
Whitby is where I'd like to be,
no matter where on earth,
Whitby is the best for me.
Wonderful town of Whitby, Honour be upon it's history,
But how it's backstory came to be differs as a mystery.
Once upon a supposed legacy of legend and lore,
One quite possibly never seen before.
With it's Mystic vampiric anomaly,
Whitby is certainly my place,
no matter where on earth,
I'd love to be upon this space.
Wonderful town of Whitby, many books wrote about it,
with Whales, abbeys and vampires, it's hard to doubt it,
rare and beautiful creatures, dance within the mist,
Humpback, White and Minkeys on this list.
With it's Whales and sightings,
Whitby is my Sweven,
no matter where on earth,
This town is my Heaven.
Jun 10, 2017
Jun 10, 2017 at 7:03 AM UTC
I like how the internet connects
A web truly is an apt description
Pull this string to meet someone
from halfway across the world
who likes the same books as you
Pull that string to learn a new skill
Read a few articles, look at some examples
welcome to the world of graphology
Pull a different string to enter the bazaar
Access to the world's marketplaces
from wherever you are
But most of all, I like how there's
somewhere to hear other's stories
and gain some new perspectives
Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 4:39 PM UTC