"pedestrians" poems
What is beauty?
To some it is flowers
or
Sleeping puppies
or
A babies laugh
or even
the perfectly warped present
To me it is the crackling fire in the winter
The sound of pen on paper
My big dog barking at passing pedestrians
The sight of my little brother and sister's face
When they see Santa has been
When the word beauty means something different to everyone
I mean look at the beast but beauty loved him
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 2:13 PM UTC
I put so much effort into random places,
so much effort into random faces
face it
im faceless
placeless
drifting
shifting
thoughts towards destiny
feeling empty,
wondering whats left in me...?
messages esoteric terrorize my rhetoric
pedestrians staring glaring gazin gotta get a second look
shook
layers shed, fall from those ancient snakes
left for dead
suffocated, stranded
damaged
god ******
this sunless planet is madness
immobilized
try to find sense in a broke world
what are hands without manipulation?
and in life? death is a stipulation
a fools gold is never within grasp
so
clasp delusions Grandiose
with a toast
to sham pain and champagne
emptied grails course through mans veins
oh to see what mirrors saw
would reflections appear at all?
peer into the endless ego
see nothing but self libido
we are all weary travelers,
existences' eternal passengers
remove masks, flasks, end the charade
let serpents slither, and sun bath
away from the shade
embrace the end of nights
push away the start of days
just keep in mind
which way
the pendulum sways
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 10:29 PM UTC
Axels and chains and
Feet and brains
It's the bicycle beats
And the trees and the streets
Join the lines in the sidewalk
As I ride and I talk
To myself,
"Breathe in," &
"Breathe out," --
Burning and churning to the
Grooves and the cracks
Red light's the only chance to relax
Racing the bus and flashing a grin
To the sorry folks trapping themselves therein
Ecstasy building with each revolution
Wiping my sweat away, tasting pollution
Grinding and winding a path on my bike
Where cars and pedestrians hate me alike
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 1:25 AM UTC
Fat people have no heads.
They end at the shoulders,
they are clipped off at the neck.
Never talk to fat people.
You may talk to an expert,
to a dietitian or a doctor
but never to a real live fat person
because fat people have no heads.
Use the word Epidemic
at least once, especially
if children are involved.
Children are always involved,
so use the word Epidemic
at least once. Fat children
still have heads, usually;
only fat adults must be
d e c a p i t a t e d.
Because he still has his head
you may talk to a fat child,
especially if you offer him
a box of chicken nuggets.
Entice him to say Alarming Things
with a box of chicken nuggets.
After the word Epidemic
segue from concerned anchorwoman
to stock footage of fat headless girl
browsing the racks at J.C. Penny’s.
Segue to fat headless mom
walking with her fat headless son
on a sidewalk populated by
fat headless pedestrians.
Voice-over Alarming Things
about fat headless people
not getting enough exercise
and segue to fat headless man
stuffing his fingers into a box
of McDonald’s french fries.
Fat people eat only McDonald’s
french fries and we will be right
back with more on this story
after a word from our sponsors.
Cue McDonald’s theme song.
Pretty people Golden Arches
laughing with their heads
as they eat McDonald’s french fries
with their heads
and never gain a pound.
Jan 6, 2012
Jan 6, 2012 at 5:58 PM UTC
With the red lights in my eyes
And the gray haze in the sky
With the fire red reflecting back
The neon skin distracts me from where I am
And where I should be
In the winter clear, I sit
And I'm sick of it
As the snow falls on cars
On pedestrians and bars
Wrapped in pea-coats and ***
Under the foggy winter sun I slowly stroll
With a woman in my soul
Like a gypsy king and queen
In a lucid fever dream
Up in the offices and desks
With stress in their chests
These people think of home
While their lovers are alone and stuck with screens
Like windows into scenes
They thought money could buy
As they drift and die
Pouring out from the walls
Of worship chapel halls
With hands in their pockets
Stealing trinkets and lockets to give to the men
Who promise the end
But all will be right
If you pay the right price
From the streets of gods
That will one day rot
Under our wandering feet
When we longer speak but are just memories
Passed on like a disease
On death, I've made my peace
Until then, let me be free
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 7:04 PM UTC
Brown sugar sapotas
Blending with custard alfonso mangos
And bold sweet lime juice
Georgette saris
Pairing with uncut diamond necklaces
Mixed with peals and rubies
Gently sloping palm trees
Swaying in balmy sultry air
And hazy golden sunsets
Frenetic yellow autos
Competing with dusty zipping mopeds
Mixed with ambulating pedestrians
Aromas of cumin
Blending with the sewage
Other times with incense
Glows of brass oil lamps
Singing in hums of prayer
Added with turmeric's incantations
Brightly-patterned salwars
Accentuating gemstone bindis
Comfy fitted leggings
Savory masala dosas
Coupling coconut chutney
Meter-high filter coffee
Apr 23, 2012
Apr 23, 2012 at 8:17 AM UTC
beyond Montana’s yellow lines
there is a field
~a field of painted soles
and laces rubber tread
~a field of ****** curls
and fallen headlights
where kaleidoscope lenses
look onto twisted frames like origami halos
where teddy bears hug stop signs like pickets
fringed in anger
runaway childhoods sleep cautionary tales
beyond Montana’s blushing acne
there are red cup melodies
blasting from blacked out tints
weaving blues notes through Rock & Rap
distant cries are drowned by Bass
or maybe Bud (light)
a haze of teenage eyes
they might as well be ghost riders
whip game copped from GTA
these pubescents are a Vice to their City
blooming sidewalk sloths
like flowerbeds
beyond Montana
is a country of bar stools
where bar tenders play therapists
and therapists play coroners
precedents are shots of whiskey - taken to the head
and reflected in flooded eyes
beyond Montana
is a country of MADD mothers and SADD students
beyond Montana
is a country of unexpecting pedestrians
beyond Montana
is a field
~a field of wing-clipped snow angels
That field is Mariah's home now
and she challenges you to change
yourself
your friends
your country
she challenges you to
STOP DRUNK DRIVING
Jan 6, 2013
Jan 6, 2013 at 2:22 PM UTC
Alone into Rainy, twist a Dai clove, pattering rain, wind lingering foot Yuhuan, lengthy dark gray rain curtain hung plaintive, oblique rain splashes dusty track marks, those rainy season, those day's dependent, those nostalgic every night in this late spring rain, scraping completed my cold lonely, rain turned into a long and narrow alley Resentment, thwarted flows into atria, cool diffuse through the apex. Do not turn around in your mind of the day, I count, chatter thoughts of you, and for your Ai resentment, Acacia entanglement, filled Chu pain, no know what to say, but unfortunately does not help, once the owner of the rain falling, once clouds drifting sea oath, I never touched your warmth, sigh Lane is a rain: Wife - Why shallow edge. (yiwu export)
Came alone intersection, waving a monotonous right hand, held in our left vague shadow, the breakdown of the raindrops bounce dust, Red rain, your shadows, swaying like a willow in the rain erratic, like a hard rain exhibition wings flutter Ling heavy, like rain, pedestrians hurry hurry ...... once Pengguo footprints Bingqing appearance of your hands, had led a faint in the rain blessings Juyi Peng broken tile rain dream, comfort our goodbyes, we pay homage to the past. Acacia is the way the dust, whisk Yang is confusion of resentment, lost pain.
This year's rainy season to refresh my mind, I view Acacia dream dreams, the pain, resentment cut into the rain, stuck into the soil; tears into the hands of deep stone, sank; to have a bunch of rendering painful injury worry text buried in the memory, so that resentment heart of the sea to swim, let the pain out of the bone marrow, dusty track once marks, wound treatment desolate, firmly stand in Kuwata, enterprises no longer envy sea water. (yiwu export agent)
Let love and hate, love and hatred, grace and resentment, thinking and pain in the rainy season falling, drifting in the rainy season. I left alone a pool of water, the flow of soulful call. (Yiwu buying agent)
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 5:03 AM UTC
I don't know what to think
when i'm staring in your eyes
more akin to speak
in blind lullabies.
than logistify
my heightened
surmise
in flight
to somewhere nice
if only for tonight
come with me this night
ignite
the cindered fires
of our desires
and incite
the throws of light
in **** obscurity
moaning through the sincerity
of our oddities
gleaming in the rarity
of our academy of lust
all or bust
entrust the accounting
of blaspheme
to the enemies
of poverty
and shove me
all the way down your throat
fill you
instill you
with the hope
of a million
grinning in **********
of the tangled mental merchants
of pretty lights and custom curtains
drawn at first light
dispersing
amongst cursing pedestrians
prior to ***********
of forceful ************
with an another human
lightened strikes the truant
in 9 months of fluent
agony
just imagining little Timmy
has me scavenging for a shimmy
to escape
its social ****
to a blind ape
still patting his head
don't be mislead
by ***** carriers
pack your own barriers
and prepare for the scarier
side of a mans mind
Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 11:05 PM UTC
Shortly after his departure from the King's palace, the Little Prince arrived at another world.
There were two halves. One; a field of sunflowers and the second; a city full of high rise buildings.
He played around the field. Walking, Jumping, and Smelling the flowers. As he jumped around, he suddenly bumped into a gargantuan object towering over the field.
Thump!. "Ouch!", he said, as he had one hand on, and leaned against it. "Amazing! Why didn't I see it as I went around?". The little prince was astonished at the object, as his head looked up to see the what the object was.
"Hello!? Anyone up there?" He then hears a soft hum and light plucking, and with ecstatic might, he looks around the object for the source of the sounds.
"Hello? Anyone here?" A loud rumbling came, as if an earthquake started. The object started to move. The little prince looked up and saw that it was a man, a giant! The giant had a serious look, and with him, had a basket full of sunflowers..
"What are the Sunflowers for?"
The giant looked straight into the city and seemed to not hear the the little prince's question.
"What are the Sunflowers for!?"
The little prince shouted, because he was unanswered.
The giant then looks at the little prince, smiled and silently gestured him to follow.
Annoyed and curious, the Little Prince follows.
The giant brought the Little Prince to the city, where it's bustling streets were crowded; and despite the noise of footsteps, car horns, and people on their phones, there is this eerie feeling of silence. The giant then stands eagerly on the sidewalk with his basket of sunflowers. He holds a sunflower from the basket and silently tries to hand one to the passing pedestrians. He tries and tries, but not one flower was given. "Why is everyone looking down?", The Little Prince asked, "Is everyone like that?" The giant looks at at The Little Prince, puts his finger over his lips. "shhh" the giant whispered, as he goes back to handing out flowers. The Little Prince slowly gets annoyed and furious at all his unanswered questions. "Why don't you say anything!?" The Little Prince asked.
The giant then looks at the Little Prince, smiled, and leaned over to whisper.
"I might disturb them", the giant said.
The Little Prince was dumbfounded and confused at his response. "Adults are strange beings." he said, as he goes back to his ship and left for another planet.
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 8:57 AM UTC
Blankets, pillows, a black dog, and a cell phone.
Facebook, Twitter, Vine, Gmail, and Instagram.
Shampoo, soap bar, toothbrush,
toothpaste, temperature, and time.
Shaving cream, razor, running water,
advertisements, sensitivity, precision, and cuts.
Burned tongue, empty stomach, loose tie,
missing shirt buttons, beating the clock,
wallet, briefcase, and car keys.
Ballpoint pens, scented trees, fast food wrappers,
loose change, lighters, citations, ***** clothes,
CDs, and napkins.
Red lights, pedestrians, homeless people,
newspapers, billboards, pets on leashes, sewer
grates, crosswalks, skyscrapers, and garbage.
Faxes, printers, memorandums, break room,
prestige, cubicles, customer service, paperweights,
filing cabinets, stocks, and corporate.
Wipers, streetlights, rain coats, dive bars,
and home.
Blankets, pillows, a black dog, and a cell phone.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 1:43 PM UTC
The expansions of space
the matrix we learn to re-create
lucid dreaming conquers the mind
lust drains the mind rendering it blind
past issues fade like clouds
pedestrians pass in the confusion of time
inner thoughts expressed aloud
surrounded atmosphere all around
limitations is what keeps humanity underground
infinity: a number of fantasy
kept up like gasses and when the bubble pops acid drops
slipping into the abyss till gravity stops
amid the ashes is where life crashes
so long as it stays concealed in darkness
everything comes out to light
in such sparkling moments
in energy in rebirth
the fallen jaguar rises taking the form of night
chosen by the stars
given divine right
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 9:48 PM UTC
Two magnificent turtles
and I’m surprised I can see them from the distance between us.
I’m sitting in my car on a Baltimore street close to the cobblestone kingdom.
He just exited, I’m waiting patiently.
Were both waiting and this is one more step taken on a path we have carved that leads to our future
and is created from scratch.
Hardly working, and he’s looking to work hard.
Although most days I wished he would just stay in bed with me.
We’re planning and we are praying that the floor doesn’t fall through.
Living this way, living under a rain cloud.
Things tend to have a way of working themselves out but it’s hard to guess fate’s direction
when you’re standing on shaky ground.
The sound of a bell barely awakens the pedestrians.
It might not mean anything, but it sure is a pretty sound.
Aug 22, 2012
Aug 22, 2012 at 1:37 PM UTC
My tires went over the cracks in the road
As I drove by people standing on the sidewalk
Exchanging words, emotions, dreams
I passed them on my way to the cul-de-sac
To exchange money, drugs, humanity
The pedestrians penetrated me
With piercing eyes of persecution
They thought they hated me for being there
But their hatred is what led me there
They injected hatred into my life
The way I injected ****** into my arm
They injected banality into my life
The way I injected ****** into my brain
They injected austerity into my life
The way I injected ****** into my heart
They prayed that my sedation was of a more permanent nature
Before that they prayed for the permanent sedation
of my ****** nature
Wanting me to be fully awake
But not fully alive
They snuck into my mind
And exchanged emotions with emptiness
I snuck into their house
And exchanged furniture with emptiness
They exchanged words with the police
Who exchanged my freedom
For everyone else's peace of mind
But the exchange between the excommunicated
Exacerbated my exiled existence
The steel bars placed before me
Paled in comparison
To the bars that surrounded my heart
And faded from memory
When the Xanax bars entered my system
Until I couldn't walk anymore
Making me Professor X
Hiding out with the other mutants
Trying to lecture the world
That zombies turn to demons
If the exchange isn't examined
When they exit their enclosure
Sidewalk standers turn to explanations more elementary
Eliminating empathy
While elevating themselves above us
This is the epitome of our exchange
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 3:55 AM UTC
Rambunctious thoughts race through a mind already cluttered with worries.
He wonders if this will relieve his pain, brought on by years of abuse.
He shifts his feet curiously on the edge, still not allowing his eyes the freedom of glancing at the street below.
His balance is almost lost when the wind blows in flurries.
He has been a ticking time bomb all these years, and now they have lit his fuse.
Pedestrians gather at the bottom of the building, ready for the gruesome show,
Then, he
*j
u
m
p
s.*
Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 11:19 PM UTC
I’ve been squeezing moose all over my body in an attempt
To give it more volume
Which is to say I was trying to give my life more depth
When you’re finished reading astronomy you’ll end up
Throwing oranges at pedestrians because **** it, Earth is
Meaningless and everyone needs to cheer up
**** it because being content is the hardest
Thing you can possibly do
Which is to say throwing oranges at people is the hardest
Thing to do without getting your *** kicked
**** it because when an orange concentrates hard enough it becomes juice
And if I concentrate hard enough I **** myself
Which is to say I need to have a seat and calm down—
Enjoy this cigarette while it lasts
I am no longer able to print Handle-With-Care labeling
And tape it to my body like someone who actually believes that works
While the sun laughs and harasses me with oranges all day
**** it, there’s too much moose and I’m wearing a white shirt.
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 11:56 PM UTC
After dining at the finest of Maw and Paw restaurants
Frequented by men in trucks
Outside I slipped on the gravel drive
And as would be my luck
The LARGE cowboy belt I'm so proud of
Latched on and then got stuck
Now I'm off to see America
From the front grill of a Big Mac Truck
From the plains of Plano, Texas
To the hills of Hoboken Plantation, Tennessee
There's not to many places
That Big Mac Truck did not take me
To other motorists I was Mr. Friendly
With my arms flapping in the wind
They all would honk and wave and smile
As I smiled back with my bug filled grin
For weeks and weeks we went from coast to coast
Hollywood, California is where I made my mark
Someone happened to take my picture
Which made me an instant star
So I hooked my buckle to the front of a limo
As crowds started to recognize me
A Big Mac Truck would no longer do
When your a Big Time Celebrity
I was on The Tonight Show with Jay Leno
He interviewed me from a parking lot
The limo would not fit on the couch
Plus I can't get the buckle to unlock
Now when my limo pulls up to crosswalks
Pedestrians ask for my autograph
Before the light turns green and me and the bumper we leave
I tell a few jokes and we share a few laughs
As life's fortunes would have it
I can't believe my luck
The day I tripped on that gravel drive
And fell into the grill of that Big Mac Truck
Mar 30, 2013
Mar 30, 2013 at 7:11 AM UTC
It was the type of day Wellington is infamous for:
rain slanting into the pursed and puckered faces
of harried pedestrians
and I, out and about with my secret
that in the tall towers where the wheels
grind slowly
a thing not made of commerce
a growing not spurred by market forces
an investment not subject to whims and crises,
but a spark ignited by two people
laying themselves open to love
and hope and dreams and
schemes sometimes lost sight of,
was fanning the flame,
the head, heart, flesh, bone and wairua
of a life
taking root in my beloved's belly,
a life long longed for
a life
whose existence sweeps before it all petty irritations
and affixes itself on my face
as a big stupid grin
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 7:02 PM UTC
trolling through
midnight streets
braking to avert
inflicted pedestrians
crawling to and from
pedestrian afflictions
I hope become fares
I am the vehicle
to next destinations
the portage to
an evenings
ravenous
end
Music Selection:
Ides of March
Vehicle
10/15/14
Oakland
jbm
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 3:54 PM UTC
Sharon was picking at the scab over the mole on the back of her neck
where the hairdresser had shaved too close to the skin:
Water under the bridge, she thought, and licked at her salty fingertips.
By focusing on the sound of her new high heels over the metal steps,
she blocked out twisted traffic audio below;
the wind whistled a tune through the rust over her painted toenails.
She liked the way some of the pedestrians down there looked up at her.
Sharon felt so elegant when the wind lifted her skirt,
just like Marilyn Monroe in that picture, except that Sharon didn’t smile;
her skirt had been lifted up more times than she could (or wanted to) remember.
He always looked down at her. There. Below.
Sharon flicked her new purse into the wind, and ripped off the matching blouse.
The Samurai sword, tight between her ******* felt hot and cold at the same time,
like the red of her peach blossom skirt glistening white against midday sun;
memories of her only child freeze-burned the empty love caverns in her heart.
A river of emotions rippled through her body but she didn’t utter a sound;
that was reserved for the impact with the oncoming bus,
and the tip of the sword that ripped through the driver’s leather-sandaled heart.
May 9, 2011
May 9, 2011 at 3:15 AM UTC
-------
Some say,
you can’t,
judge a book,
by its cover.
I say,
open
the book
and study
the pages
First.
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 11:38 PM UTC
Rambunctious thoughts race through a mind already cluttered with worries.
He wonders if this will relieve his pain, brought on by years of abuse.
He shifts his feet curiously on the edge, still not allowing his eyes the freedom of glancing at the street below.
His balance is almost lost when the wind blows in flurries.
He has been a ticking time bomb all these years, and now they have lit his fuse.
Pedestrians gather at the bottom of the building, ready for the gruesome show,
Then, he
j
u
m
p
s.
Jan 5, 2013
Jan 5, 2013 at 8:57 PM UTC
the glass cliffs of the city
echo to the sound of an adrenalin rush
motor cars, buses and trucks
all in the fast lane
hectic the movement on the streets
not a second goes by without a noise filled beat
the scurried hurry
of pedestrians
all of whom are bound
to a full on gait
the quietness of a bush landscape
is a locale slow in time
there a soul can unwind
walking at leisure
through a wood of countless trees
taking a pause along the way
to listen to the hum of bees
birds twittering
their caramel tunes
catching sight of a squirrel
nibbling on an acorn husk
the glistering sun upon the river's trace
nothing can beat
the countryside's space
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 10:08 PM UTC
The revs of car engines
The footsteps of pedestrians
The laughter of children
The bark of guard dogs
The chirps of small birds
Even from in my bedroom I can hear the world I am familiar to
The world I call home
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 6:14 PM UTC