my city

My city breathes, from the slow but emanating smog
That fills all spaces, green and not green alike

And here, the tall and shining pillars of prosperity emerge

In them, the poisoned air puts poisoned minds to work

My city listens, to the thundering of old trains on older tracks

To ritualistic hordes that tread not gently, in stifling packs

A harmony of rush that climbs to a crescendo at morn

And once again, just before dusk if you missed the first one

My city sleeps, as moonlight slips into alleys dark and unforgiving

Amber lights blink, as the dead of night is looming

One moment of a wintry desolation that so swiftly perishes

Before the warm sun has it's due at dawn and life replenishes

an ode to the lesser joys

To that cheerful mutt who never fails to retrieve promptly
And yet it grips still, and oh so firmly, when asked to let go

To that gloriously relieving sneeze that comes finally after
Countless feverish breaths are held only for fizzled attempts

To scurry to the nearest shelter and watch, while the sky pours away
Or to perhaps not, and brave the many drops for a moment or more

When you take a step into that pristine bit of the woods
Where you turn around and look to find, more of the woods again

When that very last word of a lengthy good book has been read
And while you have ended with relief, you quickly wish for another

Waiting and more waiting, and less waiting when you know its almost there
And the loud ringing saves you, when the final bell has been struck in time

And the sight of misty mountains which not for once, ceases to bewilder
To the many hued sky dwindling, for the twinkling night will soon follow

twice gloomy

The day has suffered an early death
With the gray clouds growing forth
The sky is now rid with a displeasing hue
Of withering and livid ash

Trees make do breathing a stifling whiff
Of what was once perhaps a teeming breeze
The branches and the leaves seem to sway gently
To the whir of the chirping crickets

And no shadows cast in this light-less dusk
And pleasures no longer pleasurable
This morbid day casts its woe filled spell
Much like the reaper would claim a soul

And that is how it ends, listless and still
Waning in slow pace with nothingness, aplenty

Charlotte

Hungry for love, she wanders lonely dim-lit streets

Her thin lips stained scarlet shimmer gently between streaks

Of warm yellow and neon blue

The weary eyes speak for what she won’t voice

Her tired and desperate mind screams in that putrid pain

And every night, for every man who has enough

Get their fill of their wildest dreams, her nightmares

And for every night she goes without, she suffers

For the many more that she has to replace

But who now would deny, this amorous goddess

This woman who walks freely, or does she?

For her voluptuous self is admired far less

Than her fearful mind, and her desperate plea

a year's end

The last leaf falls, hovering and dropping gently
That willow tree devoid now, bare and weak
Here where the wind blows, and rest it does not
Here where the sun, shunned by the morbid sky
Hung in vile, vicious grey, in this darkness caught

A bloodthirsty wolf wanders in withering woods
Slips into that scrub forest found dead at every sight
With no single instance of any viable prey, it broods
And lo, death instead haunts him, day and night

Quick approacheth this villainous winter, fast
On shedding the trees and freezing the lakes
The many shades of fall are bleached
With the steady fall of snowflakes

a moaning song

She sings , a creaking and moaning song
It resounds clearly in sunless tunnels
A slow but soothing, a lasting groan
Which peaks around the sharpest turns

This prodigious serpent of steel
Glistening in the morning light
This wondrous creature of man , moves
From impossible depths to towering heights

Through green fields , over vast bridges
Mist ridden hills and hazy cities
Over that red-orange horizon she skips
Down that winding path , she wanes

restless

Put not this weakened soul to rest
Its fears have feverishly unfolded
The speculation of vindictive specters
And the enduring embrace of darkness
Rise to impossible depths

Certainly the suffering is more and will be
When in it finds monsters in mere mortals
When desperation is in the usual routine

Purge this mind in the fountains of folly

Let the lunacy return ,let it fill to full

There is a tranquility in the madness

A sacred severance from all

That they call and proclaim as sense