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Archive for the ‘Poems’ Category

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I daresay that I cannot decide

Whether it is the stardust in your eyes

Or pixie dust scattered upon on your hair

From the spells that you cast into the air—

The incantations whispered in a dream

Reflected in a looking glass pristine.

In hazy crystal balls there’s naught to find—

The mystery’s not easily defined;

Overlook constant cycles of the moon,

The stars that will dance into orbit soon,

Flashes of lightning twirling in the skies,

The ever constant pull and flow of tides.

Do not think twice about huddles of crows—

These things are not what do enchant me so.

I’m bewitched far beyond the realm of chance;

Luck possesses far too feeble a stance.

No, this is the work of things unexplained—

Beasts sprung from golden legend, gods untamed.

Magic in age-old form is what it seems:

To be charmed beyond all thinkable means.

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From afar a glorious thing,

Like a city at midnight beckoning;

Your cage disguised as your wings,

Gold and diamonds and pretty rings;

Tinted windows blocking the light,

Tumble down seventeen stories high;

Never see sun, never see sky,

Sickeningly jeweled hand on your thigh;

Black suits in a suffocating sea,

Can’t bite the gold between your teeth;

A façade like an opaque sheath,

You never wonder what’s beneath.

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Dark heavens pierced by a bright skyline,

A thousand twinkling lights,

A million intertwining lives—

It’s all electric, you can feel it.

And he walks past the neon signs,

Dizzyingly slow traffic lines,

Midnight, but everything’s alive—

It’s all hectic, he can feel it.

In a cab, she wonders why

This is only the first time

She’s searched here for the limelight—

It’s all tangible, she can feel it.

For moments they both close their eyes;

The feelings and sounds all seem to collide,

The constant conversation, the chill of the night—

It’s all-encompassing—can you feel it?

 

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He is sun all over—

It streaks his hair and

It browns his skin, almost as dark as

His eyes, which are warmer than it

As it beats down upon your bare back.

 

He is wrong all over—

Righter than the last but

Wronger than the next,

And you can tell because it’s written on his smirk,

And it’s there, between his crystalline summer words.

 

Summer.

 

He’s summer all over—

Shimmering and seaside,

Smelling like salt amongst other things,

And a wave of desire crashes down, begging him to stay,

But he will fade with every falling leaf.

 

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Just like putting on your favorite pair of shoes,

You have to undo the laces you left tied

Last time you wore them.

So often you wore them—

They’re worn-out and broken-in,

And your toes sigh as they slip into them

With a familiarity so comforting

That you wonder why you didn’t wear these

Shoes all year.

They’re battered and old,

But they’re more pleasing to your eyes

Than they were when you first bought them

And than that other pair of shoes you wore

All year—

The ones that hurt your feet

Because they were smaller than your size.

But these shoes—

Your favorite shoes—

Fit like gloves in the wintertime,

And they won’t hold you back from

Walking northward all those miles.

So you tie them up

Just like you did

The last time you wore them,

But this time

You use a double knot

So they won’t ever leave your feet.

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They say it never sleeps—(who’s “they”?)

They have a reason.

People on the streets no matter what the season,

Phrases scrawled with haste, spray-painted face—

This city is a bear, but it don’t hibernate.

 

And this is where you were born—

In the back of a taxi cab,

But you don’t know who’s your dad.

That guy in the suit and tie, he’s got your eyes,

Wall-Street-bound, Prada briefcase at his side.

 

Follow him a while, just to play pretend.

He’s got your laughter—

Sudden benefactor?

It’s a free nation, but this ain’t no Great Expectations.

Not cut for Wall Street, you head for Grand Central Station.

 

Play a few songs with your beat-up guitar,

Sing a few verses,

Families watching you closely, better leave out the curses.

Quarters and dimes, “thank you for your time,”

But time’s all you got, you left nothing behind.

 

Watch your brother board the seven-twenty train,

He asks you to join, but why would you leave?

You fell in love with the concrete.

The rhythm and the blues light your heart like a fuse;

This city—it kills you, but it’s still your muse.

 

I’ll ask you one thing,

From Brooklyn and Queens,

Every borough in between,

The art on the streets, the man with the beat—

Take it all in from your head to your feet.

 

This city is sparkling—not sparkling clean,

It’s sparking, sparking electricity.

Every person, every sound with unique energy—

I’ll ask you one thing:

Can you feel it?

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meet me in October,

and we can relive

that moment when

the focus of my life

 

became trying to get

outside of this fence that

chains me in—

holds me in—

and into your heart,

into your mind,

never regretting a thing.

 

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