"taggers" poems
who lit the candles
placed so eloquently
behind purple rock?
that sculpted radiance
and chapel grace
wound in a chosen
defined way
down the spiral
stone stairs
street cars dawdle
alongside
the packer slew
biding merchants
shuffle their wares
as the front man
and pock face
sing their sullen
holy blues
cut jazz echoes
over the accompanying
gabble and drone
incense and haze
pour from
a lower trap door
sack fish, truffles
and splendid crafts shine
inside the stained glass fronts
a wide mouth snapper
with a bloated tongue
greets the
morning tide
(not camera shy
in the least!)
the fish traps
and beaneries
bring life
to the flourishing causeway
hula hoops
and circle ballers
join the
cobaine stage
favoured rogues
and mac jacks
speak easy
of the big daddy
beth’s triple by pass
taking firm hold on
tricky ****
and the nutcracker
maze ways,
taggers and
lost tunnels
of cu chi
strike a
nerving blow
a poised finger man
belts out his tune
(with a sniff sock
and iterating glare)
his nosey neighbors
cut artisan bread
(with a white wine
and jelly spread)
midwives push forward
for an afternoon
toddle and stroll
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 11:12 AM UTC
Folklorico serenades the street
from an open third floor window
a rhythmically refreshing sound
compared to the silence
the calming silence
of south 2nd street
in Brooklyn
hardly escaping the shadow
of the metropolitan center
this little pocket has escaped
the hustle and bustle
that traditionally defines New York
the chatter from the stoop
three gentlemen discussing
'stop and frisk' and 'being processed'
the corner store as old
as the neglected blue mailbox
that now serves as a canvas
for local taggers
new eateries and humming bars
full of new immigrants
out of staters, artists
from places not so welcoming
to their brand of queer
here on this quiet street
I watched the new grow
among the old
this place was a garden
of concrete, culture
and dreams
Jul 29, 2014
Jul 29, 2014 at 2:02 AM UTC
The Harbor freeway was without the congestion and the gridlock that made this highway famous.
Empty freeways demand speed and in Los Angeles everyone's in a hurry with somewhere to go.
It was a rare sight in a city full of men and their machines
A rare sight that was quietly becoming normal.
The lack of cars made the otherwise thick layer of ***** brown smog become a minor smear on an otherwise beautiful blue Southern California day.
With the changing of the guard the nameless planes with their exaggerated white lines across our skies magically returned.
There's more of us noticing things today than any other time before.
To the far West Venice is dying and the beach has become a refugee camp full of tents and blue tarps all wasting in the wind.
Handball courts now occupied by old bikes, tents and an array of useless garbage someone calls their property.
And the California girls' no longer come here to tan.
The girls on Figueroa stand half naked on 64th street waving like debutants at the lonely men as they window shop for *** from the safety of their vehicles.
The girls here never tell you their real name and all the men are called John.
The Gang members in the Hoods on the West side and in the Varrios and the Projects on the East all use Graffiti as a way to convey their threats to one another.
The Taggers bright, bold pieces bring colors to the otherwise grey concrete freeways.
Downtown is nowhere you want to be without a million dollars or a side arm and a reason.
They gave Skid Row up to the people and the graffiti then watched in horror as it grew into what it has become today.
South Central continues to bleed red, brown, blue and black.
Curbside motive candles dot the city corners like mile markers along the highway.
There's been far too much death to ever mention peace here.
Hollywood is slowly dying and Melrose is at 50% capacity with robberies happening almost everyday on Rodeo.
The Cranes along the Harbor stand like giant monuments to a God no one prays to anymore.
And there's a lot less Cargo trucks on the road today then any other time before.
Yet we are told to "Stay home ,we'll pay you to do so".
While outside our city is dying and there is no where to spend the money we're given anyway.
Apr 14, 2022
Apr 14, 2022 at 11:48 PM UTC
Taggers case freight car yards,
a complicated process
to choose splendid canvas. Steel
stealing is time lapsing. You
take a property, not yours.
You take flashing blink. It cooks
eyes of dull suburban housewives,
while they sit in wait
at railroad crossings. Its chicanery
is a contrivance tempting those
mother's sons. Offbeat drawn
out of the daily rides to school,
how they wish for spray paint,
to challenge their mothers'
judgements. Soon enough
he picks up his own can.
Feels that psssst.
Knows his new name.
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 3:06 PM UTC
For eyes of iron
Hearts of ice
Fingers of lead
Children in the trash
For kindness
Goodwill
Goodness
Love
For bullet holes
Burglars
Taggers
Brawlers
For the courageous
The peacemakers
The volunteers
The helpful
A rainbow in the sky
Beneath it live people
Like you and me
So alike — or not?
Aug 23, 2025
Aug 23, 2025 at 7:02 AM UTC
my best friend gökhan tatchouop
you are gone
faded out like a song
you will never come back
i we we i lost track
you will never come back
the brothers and sisters
are protecting the platform
golden dusty hair
sitting on rusty chairs
guardians of the right cause
a good man does the right thing
i transformed into a nightling
as i listened to your voice
the last time as you
wrote your last rhyme
we were poets
we were taggers we were brothers
we were the same and an other
we longed for fame
you are gone gökhan
you will never come back
but you remain in the dust of
the brothers and sisters
they will never leave
they are always there
guardians of the platforms
guardians of trains
like gods supernatural
creatures: violent protectors
willing to attack anybody
who spits against your grave
REST IN PEACE MY MAN
SINCERELY MIKEY YOUR FAN
Mar 5, 2020
Mar 5, 2020 at 4:48 PM UTC
Some people look down upon them
Saying they have nothing good within
But I see it differently
In markups, I see
The person I was, am, and could've been
May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 7:40 AM UTC
I never miss a thing around
the skies are always above me
'never' always asks for an 'always'
And blood will rush until it stops rushing
chilly air of a chill night out - hold, release
relive (free WI-FI) willingly crashing
So many trippy kids and adults in the city of M.
Empty beat attacks with the strength of a spring grizzly
Heart slipped my mind like a metronome slapping
Suddenly universal knee touch fulfilling each fantasy
Was bad so could be good again, by that it was winning
night knows playing cruelly, touch and run, taggers
i go with it, i play along, i start dancing, head first, bare neck, collar settling
cause of death: Guillotine in front of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs on Smolenskaya
Coke still evokes the taste of blood because of metal wrapping
Indistinct music on the street so kind upon me helps swirling
My curls grow, I cut'em, they come back
I leave locks in the books reread, Franny and Zooey hold it
* «Louis XVI, born Louis-Auguste, was the last King of France before the fall of the monarchy during the French Revolution. … Louis XVI was guillotined on 21 January 1793. … The executioner, Charles Henri Sanson, testified that the former king had bravely met his fate. » OST Wikipedia
* «Jerome David Salinger was an American writer. … Salinger died of natural causes at his home in New Hampshire on January 27, 2010. He was 91. … The representative believed that Salinger's death was not a painful one. » OST Wikipedia
* «Metronomy is an electronic music group formed in 1999. » OST Wikipedia
Jun 15, 2018
Jun 15, 2018 at 6:21 AM UTC