more city poems, untitled

Hey, I'm posting some more untitled poems of mine (some older ones from a series of poems I wrote about the city; and one new one). I wanted to get in on the city theme Jeff had going, because I'm a jerk, and why not? So, onward to victory, and this is a cool city too, but only if we kill all the yuppies. Okay?!

untitled 530

the youth

youth

was standing

outside the whore house

,

snapping his

fingers

to

some City song

in his head

.

“…all the pretty ladies…”

he hummed aloud

and watched all the men

converge to

the yellow entry door

.

“…are so bold…”

he hissed

as he snap snapped

;

above him in a posh apartment

,

a lonely rich mother

was putting ice in a shiny glass

that had a painted smile upon it

.

the youth youth

stopped snapping

and spoke as quiet as he could

,

anxious if the City should ever overhear

,

“now I’m going to go

my way

and I have to make sure

that I go as a human

being”

untitled 577

the cavalcade

of the riot

children

broke down main street

and

they demanded the

city people

care again

.

above them in neon lights

,

the City

flashed its

teeth at them

,

streamlined highrise

lightbulbs

blaring

light down on their faces

.

all the rioters had

big

pens resting in their

pants

and

they wanted to brandish

them

whenever they could

.

(it’s a sad world

and this City is mostly

ugly

,

but someday it will all be better

untitled 3974

you’re a windowsill

and you’re

teeth are glass

and you’re wondering about

frail women.

then shut your face

and hold

back the winter wind

and hope for hot candles, red wax,

and drip

and drip.

--

there is no magic in your hand

or your walk,

just the hair on your head

and your eyes

when they

close.

--

he stabbed me on the boulevard

but I was

not so ready to die

and I kicked him back in his face

as he laughed

too many times