"streetside" poems
car
headlights feed the darkness
slow to a thief's caution
passing the sleeping houses
my child pushes back bedtime
watching
from the streetside window
Sep 10, 2022
Sep 10, 2022 at 10:40 PM UTC
White sands pile to form an island
Before dissolving in a deep cinnamon sea–
Dark and infused
The village, where I bought my first box
The gold, from the streetside, accenting
The steam, like incense on the bedside
And the mug, that you got me, for my birthday
Tea will always remind me of you,
I make a *** each day
May 13, 2025
May 13, 2025 at 10:19 AM UTC
"Infinity" What comes into your mind?
Some say they see gray hair, rocking chairs and old worn-out clothes.
Some would say they'd hear church bells, vows, they'd see rings.
Some say they see it through the eyes of a mother, conceiving an unborn child.
Some say they see it in stars, so wide, so vast, so distant, immeasurable. Too far.
Some see it in uncertain future time.
But when asked, "What do you see in infinity?"
I'd smile and answer.
"I see cold coffees, I see dinner dates, I see your smile, I hear our laughs, I hear our favorite songs and I once again feel that impalpable comfort I find in your voice.
But,
I also hear your good-byes, I hear your costant apologies, I hear my muffled cries in the middle if the night and I see those unsent letters I should've given you a long, long time ago."
Sad but true. That's what I see. But maybe, that was our own infinity.
Maybe some infinities aren't just as beautiful and worth telling as others,
Maybe some infinites are larger than other infinities,
Maybe ours lingered on the corners of that restaurant where we met and stayed on that streetside where you left,
Maybe our infinity, ended a long time ago, long before we decided to let it go,
Maybe your infinity and mine meant to go on parallel lines,
But, maybe infinities aren't meant to last, cause maybe true infinity comes when you don't have to question "How long" but "How real"
Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 9:16 PM UTC
How in love with you am I?
Really, I sometimes question why.
Well, I'm not sure on how much I do
But I sorta have some kind of clue
For starters, I can't stop thinking about you
A thought of you is never overdue
When I hear music, I remember you
Cause I sometimes think it's your kind of tune
When I see flowers on the streetside
I have this urge to have you by my side
When our hands would simply touch
It made me want to hold your hand so much
Every word you say I can still remember
Like me and the lyrics of the song "September"
Oh how much I want to give you a hug
But I'm afraid that you might give me a smug
You're one of the only people I can trust
It's like having you around is a big must
So.. I'm not so sure these feelings kept in a cluster
Are more that what a normal man can muster
So If you ask me how in love am I with you
I might probably say.. "I don't know. I just do"
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 10:34 AM UTC
little boy wanders through the cold dead town
he doesn't know how love ever let him down
like leaves in the wind we all blow away
and little boys wake up to another empty day
little girl in blue jeans and her cowboy hat
doesn't know much but knows where she's at
leans over and brags that her daddy's in jail
says she sends him letters in the US mail
old man on the curb got nothing to lose
runs his mouth a lot but the act's all a ruse
he's been through life he knew the beat
burnt it all to gain a streetside seat
momma on the corner's fourteen years old
the high point of her story's already been told
she had her dreams and her talent but that's all gone
the sun set on her life before she had her dawn
they call it "people" and show the faces on TV
name it culture and a new way for men to see
but not in the reflection of the mournful eyes
there's no joy in the echoes of their sighs
May 26, 2010
May 26, 2010 at 4:26 PM UTC
shot after shot
i let myself
slip from reality
as i traded shotglasses
into trips down
to the local liquor store
liquid happiness
turned into liquid sadness
as i wondered if
i could feel such tranquilities
ever again
i used my
liquid sins
to build houses
of velvet in my head
i thought i could
make the little
fires of pain
just go away
i strolled down
the streets of memory
hoping i could find
solace before the daybreak
the adrenaline rush
seemed to be all i needed
just a little something
to feel nothing....
(shai)
Nov 19, 2018
Nov 19, 2018 at 7:40 PM UTC
on gray hard streets we pounded out our youth
amidst tightly knitted cobble stone pathways
and shining windows always kept clean
struggling strong immigrants far and wide
teemed fruitfully through long days
and playful front stoop games
ring a leeveo and johnny on a pony
stick ball, jax and my favorite skellzey
mostly happy but deadly too
many ways of speaking were spoken
cultures clashed but soon subsided
in quiet civility and tamed calm
that all efforts would bring ahead more
bright days and simple luxuries
a streetside chat... a day at Orchard Beach
breezy stroll through Crotona Park...
a picnic by water's edge and maybe a hooked flounder
pale afternoon sun would blaze firey red at sunset
then pink and purple painted effortlessly
across our sleeping skies
we longed just for friendly pushing around
flirting with the girls when the nerve came up
and smart challenges of who could do what
when and how
for then that time, our time it was
all just a dream a day and the glories
of growing up...
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 2:02 PM UTC
She sits on the streetside
dimly lit lamplights
cold nights and foggy skies
cars pass quickly
sudden others slow
drawn upon her fishnets
offers her a smoke
"looking for a good time?"
she doesn't wanna be here
she needs the cash
her baby
her addiction
never had a mother
she wouldn't want
her child
to be the same
baby with no father
her mother is to blame
opened the door
foot to the floor
nearest motel
get the keys
and Korbel
fifty dollars
fifty shades
of bruises
"wanna fly?"
she shouldn't
but it'll
make the night
go by
needles
hurt
like her heart
her body
said bye
back on
the streets again
same thing each night
then back to her baby
long sleeve shirts
hides her pain
hides her addiction
hides her profession
rent is late again
preschool money due
gotta pay up front
whats more important
beau
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 9:36 PM UTC