there’s no silver lining in this urban city sky but we do have loopholes in the contract of our life where we feel the happiness
loopholes
Current Events
drip
it starts in a flash
we never notice here because
its expected that we agree
to live like this without
complaint and a dosed smile
to be docile and meek
sometimes with fanfare great they
come inspect frown tear up
leave talk into microphones their
grief that its come to
this and then get rushed
to mansions before dinner time
St. Peter’s exit
stairway to heaven is closed not under remodeling and owner has not gone fishing
urban study [a]
the sound if steps drowned by the city noise voices flapping wings cries microbes eating away flies decomposing of things in the gutter and our minds traffic lights flash gasoline prices clash with American dream promises law enforcement law encroachment law deflation hunger pain need desperate ants we’ve become we have the potential to sell the soul of our children nobody knows not even me i just walk see repeat revolt retort with broken heart to mend by the edge of next block the children shout while learning to fly away from this discord
majestic label
the trash tray
8th and Union
food bank abandonment
majestic label names
won’t wipe away
our soul hunger
a pleasant surprise
no thoughts
dry mouth
moist eyes
palms cold
heart throbs
feet tired
twisted back
fingers stiff
lips cut
throat silent
nails bit
legs bruised
arms cramped
nose stuffed
pockets empty
faith teeters
breath gone
stomach knotted
ass worn
scabby knuckles
piling bills
soul dead
spirit fleeting
the you
with cat
four birds of the apocalypse
mixed media
*if you look closely you can see Buk’s ghost
twenty 3 twenty 4
another year passed
tonight we’ll hear the empty blast
party boys and girls midwife
another year that’s filled with strife
but i promise you this
my lady queen city you bitch
we will be happy and cry together we might
the cellophane kings who think they’re in charge
will continue to wallow in false putrid paradise
as you and i queen city your people
shall rise
ugly poem
ugly poem
cyber Monday
cyber Monday tired long drive
random Target children crying wanting
mothers sighing fathers walking behind
cops strolling looking for something
not in particular looking plain
inside partly broken hard times
we all stare out far
our thoughts hidden polite smiles
riddled with worries this that
crimes in our head saddened
skies blue clouds fluffy right
still deepening in the heart
a desire to be upright
while looking inside of grief
snow is fake elves shelved
Palestine hurts Israel bleeds here
America sinks as she steps
on heads backs shoulders hands
the people we hang dangling
Betty Crocker’s ads cannot repair
the damage of those here
walking shopping pretending most wonderfully
to be free to do
to love to speak openly
but we’re not just drowning
underneath raging mad correspondents with
all the lies that linger
here at a random Target
on cyber Monday we are
words less spoken 