Distant Bleach

The smell of distant bleach

On fresh cleaned linens

This is the hotel room

That we will attempt to live in

Faded carpets with old stains

Attempts to clean them

Have obviously gone in vain

Paisley and plaid hung drapery

Old recliners

While we make our escape

From the city

Old cigarette stains

Outside the door

From someone long before

Shower curtains white

Fluffy and snug

With clean towels hung

Next to the rug

Life lived in hotel rooms

Find a different way

Of saying hello

Enjoy your stay

The Dust Migration

How can dust exist in such plethora

Consuming humans in black filth

Penetrating apartments with stealth

What is the creator

The destroyer

Yet it plooms from every

Vehicle brimming black and burdened

From the backs of trucks

Tossed lightly into the air

To begin it journey

Destination unknown

Yet it flies just softly enough

Through the screens

Into our homes

Where it land

Collects friends

Possibly propagates

Until we have the motivation to cleanse

Purging our home from such creations

Out the shoot

And back into the circle

Of the dust migration

I Fear the Mold

I fear the mold

The uniformity theory

Of stripping conscious dignity

Of the you

Me

Pushing us forward

Never to look back

A pack of wolves

Now breathing down

My back

I fear the mass productions

Facilities

Consistency is key

Holding the soul back

From being free

I understand

Accommodating the masses

But with accommodation

Comes subtle backlashes

Loss of autonomy

Fostering dependancy

I look up

See arrows pointing ahead

I can’t help but wonder

If I’d be

Better off

Dead

 

2 Stairs

2 flights of stairs

2 more stairs

Who cares

I am counting

Legs burning

From constant churning

Click and trip

Hold myself on the

Red stick

That makes a railing

The no smoking sign above my head

Make it to the second floor

Then off to bed

Sinster Ways of a Fellow

How much damage could we prevent

If we just took the time to say hello

To our neighbors

Not to spy

But to just show that you want to know

How they are doing

I find it amazing that dangerous people

Can live normal lives

In normal houses

With normal neighbors

Quietly living

Yet amazed

That these monsters would not stick out

With a simple hello

One may be able to understand

Through a quick introduction

The heart of a man

People so dangerous

Unruley

Can live as a neighbor right next

To you and me

We are by nature now self governed

I look out for you

You look out for me

So it is now our responsiblity

To ask questions

Know who you live next to

What they do

Simple chat now and then

I offer that you may find

The sinister ways of a fellow

Discovered or remittted

With a simple hello

 

 

Copious Caring

I will take your odds

As odd as it seams

To be on far fetched dreams

No reason or bearing

On the future or past

No reason for overbearing

Copious caring

I will take the odds

Stacked against my favor

To savor each moment

In a town of full life enrollment

I face critics pen and ready

To shake their heads and while

Keeping their hands steady

Conformity breeds

Bland crackers

Watering down

Running into the sewers

Out of the streets

I will take your odds

You odd game

Make my best

Consistently

And soon

I will see

 

NYC Delay

The coffee is decent

The lights are bright

A bit over roasted

But tastes alright

Trying to delay

A return to NYC

No need for me

To sit in traffic

On the BQE

Rain outside

Makes me further delay

Getting anything of substance

Done today

The tolls will wait

The taxis will still be there

Just trying to delay

My return

To the city

Today

Rush, Rush, Hurry

Rush

Rush

Hurry

Nothing is worse than

The rush

The bustle of peoples muscles

Pounding pavement

Pushing gas pedals

Standing in Subways

Rush

Rush

Hurry

Don’t let the mind sway or worry

Make it out in traffic

Sit and wait

Just to see if you can take

The

Rush

Rush

Hurry

Crazy Donna

You must go to Joey’s and get the clams

With her short hair and her deep eyes

Italian blood

But you know that story about Joey

She sighs

If he gets cheap and doesn’t give you the fresh

Flour bread

Let him know

Crazy Donna from Cookie Box

Said

“He’s dead!”

We spent the morning chatting

In the gym

On the stationary bike

She was straight out of

The godfather

Or Sopranos

I was so much intrigued

Her stories had my mind fatigued

These stories that loom on these streets

You must take time to listen

To stories of the pre-madonna

and the truely gritty

All float above the belts

Of mouths

In New York City

Subtle Plans

Planes circle overhead

Outside dust stained windows

Bustling people away and close

Making their way from coast

To coast

On the ground cars rage honking

Swirling

Speeding

People walking

Talking

Thinking

Ignoring

We hold hands

Weaving through the crowds

With subtle plans

We think

We can

We hope

We plan

In New York

No second guess

No delay

Or deferred progress

But I sit wondering

Looking at the planes overhead

Shuffling the people around the world

New York to LA

In clear light

Late in March

On a sunny day