Spilled Milk on the Red Line

Spilled milk on the Red Line

Veins of white

Rush down the floor

“That ain’t mine”

The lady with two hats on yells

The man

Visibly exhausted with his head back

Is not one inch close to conscious

As the white pours through the isle

Pictures being snapped

A moment catches

The woman with the bike laughs

Late night Red Line

Public transportation

Strange spilled iterations

As the winds wind through

The tunnels

Below the streets

Of L.A.

Advertisements

Desperation of Desolation

The desperate times

Desperate measures

Come up with something good

A productive measure

In times worn thin

As the veil of light

Through the morning curtains

We have to continue to

Rely on food decisions

To set us right

Round the Corner

The simple smell

Can trigger so many memories

Roasting coffee

In Williamsburg

Takes me to years

On the road

So fresh and clean

Yet Smokey and full

The roast roars our into the air

Aggressive

And bringing back

Memories of good times

Goodnight City

Fears and hope

All mixed together

In on moment

Of letting go

Growing Up

Not growing old

Ride the train home

When the timing is just right

So the doors will open and

Step into the night

Take It

Should we await a new fate

New destinies on the horizon

In our own time and function

With our own satisfaction

How can we learn from each other

New and open ideas

Spread through conversations

With the one’s we know

And those we do not

Here comes a chance

And I hope we take it

 

Peace and Trouble

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

The Ancient Selfish

The ancient selfish

Has no home

No front yard

Or place to roam

Little are the places left

Where the selfish wander

Unfettered

Undisturbed

More questions than answers

For sure

A dusty match against reality

The selfish reign in uncertainty

Hurried they go limping off

As the ancient selfish

Have no places left

Return Enter

Escape the fray

Sprawling traffic

On sun baked streets

Of LA

Oceanside

With loaded garbage pales

On my mind

Outside the loop

Unsaid training stations

Headed west for

Western libations

Return enter

To the western end

Sip of coffee

LA blend

On the ocean beauty

Return to the feeling

Soothing

Delays in Night

Delayed

Unfettered display

Of reckless disregard

On guard

Words with no meaning

Indecisive

Backward leaning

Back in the night

When the sun lies low

That is where the weak prosper

The forbidding go