acid rain drop tear
eye field of grain
gypsy cloth for burial
standing we don’t stop
just beyond the starline
shelter roof of water
floor of heaven hell
grew cold of waiting
ulcer in the chiding
mouth of goddess in
between the deaths of
lives less killed our
candied bitterness let’s build
a temple maybe five
before the swallows fly
back stoned to nests
tipping over ashes was
the flowers of my
bed in hair graying
by Rob Banks
….another slow imprisonment of another
Case of someone’s deranged vicious
intent….silently I remain ill at ease
watching the sickness manifest around
me…daily….
Home is where the hell is…
story of my life…
Carnival music funeral laughter
waiting for impending disaster
if I keep moving I’ll find a way out
but sometimes out
is actually only going further down….
She adorns lofty heights
with the wisdom of angels deep within
her eyes….
Flatlined smile awake all night
torn apart inside
she always takes the time to try
a ghost materialized back into life.
thank you Rob Banks Pope of Punk
for giving me the greenlight to post this
turn around i do
poison from a blue riot
to war i accept
wet sand stink in my nose
thoughts of another month gone
but funny thing
im walking on my city street
Master Reeves literature check
big ass cup of iced Americano check
sun shining on my head check
to the left of my short shank
a begging tent with liquor spills
to the right of my short shank
my jean ripped on a baby palm tree
traffic below the Wilshire boulevard bridge
connecting insanity and greed
sometimes an old woman will shake her fist
at the medical marijuana rig
going at a breakneck slow speed
at the corner the fruit vendor speaks
to his regulars about the Trump defeat
but i squeeze by avoiding getting sucked in
to consequences of a life so alien to me
well i’ve never been to Pensicola or
Miami FLA im from Californayay
my lips pucker out a lame refrain
then i wonder about Bettie Page
her life as a saint
it gets late
sky hued like wild honey
littered is my view
with COVID warnings
i reach to pick at the mask round my neck
in respect for a millennial child
with each crispy step to my place
traces of hurled up chow mein
discarded condom wraps
and leaflets notifying me Jesus saves
the news today
took my breath
away the public
secret man reaches
for my head
promises of peace
and wonder only
if i keep
my lips closed
shut and abort
my thoughts into
a holding cell
of never ending
purple walls dotted
with the fingers
of the poor
brave angels with
wings plucked by
the slumlords sticky
fly trap paper
why the blue in you
when your starlight shines like gold
where have you gone sky
hello friends please check out the amazing writings and lots of thanks to Indie Blu(e) for giving me an opportunity to share my voice lots of love from LA to all
words less spoken 