Tag Archives: New York Times

Survival in New York City – An Epidemic Begins

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Ching

Ching

Ching

$40 gone

A snack split by two

$20

2 slices of pizza

$8

Ching

Laundry

$20

Time

Gone

Ching

Restaurants with higher prices

Meeting higher rents

Ching

Old apartment

Barely able to host guests

While the rent inflates

Uncontrollably

Ching

Instability

Toothpaste

Toilet paper

Ching

Ching

Falling hopes of reservations

How can the prices keep soaring

Questions now

In every situation

“What do you do for a living”

“How do we… live?”

Ching

Coffee $5

Parking

Free

Thank God

How can a city run so freely

Yet so dangerously

Close

To default

How do we survive

What do we do

The Questions

Are now being

Asked in every quadrant

Flee

Maybe

Ching

Let’s call it a night

Don’t Become It

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Don’t become tired and angry

Don’t let the easy part

Get you

In our own reverb room

We are trapped

If we only look for what we want

We look

Please look

Beyond

Continue to be human

And understand

That is the only path

In these times

Stated in The Times

Humanity required

For future generations

We inspire

The Old Neighborhood

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I know it will all change

Places

Hands

Roomates

Tiny specks will remain

Of the neighborhood I knew

For just a moment

I was late to the party

Closed it down

What seems meaningless

Will be much more important to me

Miles down

The road

So this one goes out to the neighborhood

It was short

But it was good

 

A Seat at The Cafe

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What would it take

To get a seat in the cafe

In Williamsburg

Off 6th

Sunday

As the sunlight

Glistens I’m off

Frozen streets

Keeping an eye

For an opening

As the groups of people

Come and go

Bustle to and fro

A seat is precious on a Sunday

At best I can reminisce at how

We once had a seat at the cafe

On an easy Wednesday

But today now a seat was open

Not an empty chair

The sun continues to flow in the windows

Like streams of gold thistle

Through the trashed Christmas trees

Not a seat to be had today

So seats are to be envied

On a brisk Sunday in the cafe

On 6th Street

The Window

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Through the window

At my old

Decrepit

Apartment

I can see

A new building

High rise built

In the back

Through a courtyard

I see dim lights

Glowing in warm rooms

Delicate structures

Mantles hanging

While golden geese

Swoon

Through the old window

With a moldy AC

I can see

How the others live

In NYC

The Breaks

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Coming down the line

Faster than a train

Slow motion

Down from the emperor’s hand

Makes the everyday man

Work through the night

One can claim victory

While the others work through

The holiday

How

When life is forced

Rather than reflected

It becomes more difficult

Than anyone expected

Waiting Lackluster

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How odd and confusing

A resolution

Of dissatisfaction

Delusions

My own hopes

Hopelessly irrational

Lackluster performance

Averting disaster

The hands that guide

The world these days

Seem to have itchy palms

Strange ideas

For moving forward

Or learning back

In times we all now wait

To see what will be our own fate

Peace and Trouble

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A year was lived

Not too great

Yet pretty bad

Not the worst

But oddly strange

No signs of the world ebbing to

A soft landing

Rather someone trying to gain

The upper hand

We all suffer

All of us

All of us