24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
There had been an unseen monster,
a trickster, a sweet-tongued deceiver.
There was its menacing impact
from misapplied influence of the stronghold.
There is a gush of light,
shinning bright, divergent, and full,
beaming brightness into the monster,
eating up every iota of the dark,
with blindness, deafness, and numbness.
The peace that comes from the quiet nature,
Only beaten by the rush of cities,
The assurance that comes with the next day,
Being just as busy without a doubt.
The blinding streetlights make you feel so small,
Like you don’t matter as much as you think,
Can try to be whoever you want to,
Have the space to fall and get yourself up.
So many people call your home their home,
A feeling of being different but not,
A single thread connecting you to them,
Nothing more magical than a city…
Note: This is a blank verse, with each line following the iambic parameter.
Not a city person
Oh no not me
Too much noise
Too many lights
Buildings are hideous
With their metal,
concrete,
and glass
Metalcrete city
Nasty
Smelly
Loud
And just obnoxious
Too many lights
Too much noise
Oh no not me
Not a city person
The wind ran to the forest looking for answers, it found the trees, who began to sing, and the leaves revealed the ghosts spirits dancing like the druids from the days of old. A voice whispered and echoed ,come to me when when the chaos is to much to bare, just come and rest your weary head for awhile
to meet with people
can be a joyous thing
you share, commiserate, or
a smile to others bring
and yet, sometimes,
to be in a large group
can lead your bright spirits
into a lonely droop
a friend may be waiting
amongst the busy crowd,
or distant and unkindly glares
could leave your warm heart cowed
thus, do not despair if you find,
a cold, unwelcome greeting
for in a moment you may see
the sole sweet grin in the meeting
Cigarettes and coffee have been morning rituals for far too long
There comes a time when change is cruel but so far out there
It’s hard to reach out of the ways that I’ve grown
I’m crying from the bottom
Screaming
Please let me out
The mirror of blame hurts
I break these pains
I break these chains
My heart is crying
It’s time for a change
I am heard
Hear me roar
I am a bird
Free like before!!!!
Imaginarium
The sleepy, somnolent air of a summer’s day
reels away in ribbons through the stratosphere,
spooling down to cooler night
as the city awakens again.
Electric cars are death watch beetles, tick-ticking
over still hot pavement, invisible until close enough
to be touched by startled pedestrians sharing their space.
Lights in skyscraper windows flicker and burn
in tandem, until finally they are as torches
reaching up to the sky, a sacrifice
to the new gods of industry.
Furtive love and quicksilver hate duel for supremacy,
a lover’s dance that never ends,
slipping, sliding, grinding, through the night.
Minimal
Less than a lot
If it goes beyond my head will explode
Multitask
Piled on work
I think everything will implode
LA I love you. All the extra words are junk. I just fucking love your gritty, pungent, greasy streets in the morning dew. I love Sunset Blvd… the lights, the stand still traffic, the hookers. I love your hard lines, and that everytime I am with you, famous people are there, too. I love Little Tokyo, getting fresh mochi and sitting by the fountain eating it. I love Olvera Street, her tacos and Tres Generationas shots… bright paper mache flowers! LA I love that we were only about 20 minutes to you on the five without traffic, and that no one ever cared that we played in the glass elevators at the Bonaventure Hotel all night when we were wild teenagers. I love you, LA. Your garment district, my home away from home for many formative years, your quiet North Hollywood neighborhoods, your welcoming Weat Hollywood, with lots of kissable girls and boys, good places to eat, and shops with rainbows in every window. LA I love you
I love Guitar Center, The Getty, The Greek, The Pantages, Mark Taper… Hollywood Bowl… I love that you always treated me like I was somebody… even when you knew I wasn’t.
I love you, LA.
those belly aches I give you
or the close-to-choking fits
are not attempts to kill you, I promise
but rather to revive your wits.
for too often you forget, I fear,
to guffaw, or chortle, or chuckle
the world is full of comic things
and from humour’s teat you should suckle.