Judicious Slaves

If this, then that

ten of these, two of that

similar proportions, perpendicularity of pain, as seen

through a perpetuation of crunching number machines

Persistently fading into never-ever-land,

no matter what has and is or isn’t and won’t be done,

the hours extinguish and the pyre plays  

the final ashes of a flailing song

Solstices leap—

and jump higher—

than those vaunted beams—

oft balanced by the eyes of spoon-fed man

sometimes it feels,

as if the only oaths that matter,

are those force-fed regurgitations—regulations passed

from the mouths of invisible boss-men

to the hands that seed—unknowingly—

with the binding tenets graphed to flesh,

bound we become; bound we are

to propagate our own misfortunate scarring

They allow us what we think we want

they provide us with the thoughts they feed

empowering through asides and coercive acts

thus curating the souls path of arc

turning serf to purveyor,

whose own word of mouth marketing

is the pulpit, used as a vehicle for

convincing the misinformed,

that it’s in everyone’s best interests,

to keep the steel attached to lens

and they:

Satiate your promise

in all the vows you

break for them. 

Ensconcing your

fruition in all the lies

you’ve faked.

Judicious slaves

to toil evermore

bound to become

what we are

and what we’ve always been

                            the epitome

of the antithesis

         of all that’s truly free

The City, as it stands

Voices cringe

As present and future

Mingle on a past refused

Tar is poured

Cracks are filled

Like Hershey unto dairy

Infiltrates the crevices

With a syrup-sugary sweet-

Deterring opinion from the reality

Of pavement entrenched in sleep

Skeletons linger-

Long past their time,

Framework abandoned-

Alive yet hollow,

In memories we choose to forget

Frailty grays composition

As interiors accept their decay

Yet the podium refuses such horizons-

Flavoring the conditions, as if we’re composed of clay

The above piece was created for D'verse, and Claudia's "Going Urban" writing prompt. 

This type of poetry isn't something I normally take part in, simply because, when referring to a city or a place, you must force yourself to live within the moment, the architecture and observations of that particular place and/or moment.  You don't have to spell things out completely, but pure abstractions and/or puzzle pieces, which are the types of poems I most normally engage in, really aren't proper fits for a City Poem, when staying truest to the form.  At least that's how I see it anyhow.  

The best City Poems, in my opinion, are the ones that take you on a walk.  Observations of the physical environment, notes along such a journey, immersing oneself within the overlooked minutia of the everyday.  I didn't really do that here.  

I took the least abstract route I could for myself, and looked at my city from a few vantage points, what once was and what is now.  Not exactly what a City Poem is all about, but it's the closest I could get to.  

But this all said, trying to think in ways contrary to one's comfort level is extremely important, not only for the poet and artist, but also for the people as a whole. When someone expands their limits, despite the result, they add nuances to their being.  Anyhow, that's all for another time another discussion. So, anyway, I relish all the forms and prompts provided by sites such as D'verse, as they truly do assist the quester along his/her never-ending crusade for Creativity and Artistic Challenge.  So my thanks go out once again:)

If You're Told You're Bad...

Dollar devalued, can’t afford a slight comfort, was the first moment, the initiation, of awareness,

As the eye on the wall waves its hand,

In this process, we grow small, insignificant and condemned,

Bobbing, weaving, shooing, glances cheating,

Ignorant to the counter in front of you,

Focus on us, people wonder why,

The meandering, building suspicion in their eyes,

Black shirts, what do they say?

Long haired, all bad,

Bearded, grabs the children, shelter sight,

Uncertain, but afraid, of what we just might,

Wandering three, hoping to understand, needing to know what you see

Wrong place, wrong time,

Nice life, for you,

Try again,

Pay the fine,

Try again,

Tempers flare, a warning sign,

Larger stakes create, bigger falls to make,

Last strike from the match, falling down, gasoline accelerant,

Never earned the pinstripes, never tried the course,

The validation we’ve aroused, over prepared in how we thought, undeserved in what we got,

Nondescript, can’t find the phrase, walking anomalies fill the page,

Don’t know which words I should process,

To explain, in terms, in ways

Even the ignorant can’t avoid,

All this blame has really given me a complex,

Perhaps they have some energy,

Flowing through their observation,

Maybe they see something in me,

Something even I am blind to,

Am I really as awful as you’ve painted me?

If I am, how you claim,

It probably will only surprise,

The misunderstood, yet decent human being inside,

But for you, with the profile you’ve devised

A deviant action, is what I’d expect you to expect from me,

Meanwhile cloak and daggers have filtered through, no longer shrugging off the naïve attitude,

Is a coincidence but a reminder to the self?

Of a mission abandoned, where every man was left behind,

Why you had that eye patch you never used, a little voice you’ve always ignored,

Your conviction of my guilt, louder and clearer, thoughts once abhorred,

Your certainty of my worth might just sway me towards your point of view,

Resigned to, defined by, If you’re told so, you must be bad

Merger

A mere convergence at a central point,

Details fell like heated plates

First greeting the barest flesh,

Distraction always prevent the completion of the task,

When first we spoke it was by phone

The next was on a plane,

You came back while I rode coach,

What first was brief became protract,

Initially we conversed in verbs and nouns,

Then came exchanges of happiness and frowns,

And then the language changed into something new,

You came to me, and I to you,

For advice, with questions on what there was to do,

Eventually spoken answers were replaced,

At which point all it took was a look or two,

There’s not always everything within something,

But there’s always something within everything,

If you tell it often enough, you’ll believe anything,

If you don’t then who out there will?