Something new… untitled as of yet…
The lions and
Tigers of our youth,
stalk the sordid alleys
concrete jungle that a city is
in search of prey
of play
of any word on what the point
of living is.
They leave their unintrusive selves
in black-lit pasts and background social scenes
only bring the sharpest knife
to the fight
the conflict waged in brutal words
and apathetic stares
that preen and start
in the alcoves of physical commerce.
Leaving cares and manners alike
(so alike) in the basement apartments and rundown condominium highrises,
the beat up bungalows on the borders of the burbs and the metropolis,
where society stirs in self incriminating circles
only in practice, it is just practice
for the play of words and fists,
guns and knives,
but also hugs and kisses,
on the streets of the city
in the passionate grip
of those sickly-sweet summer nights.
May 22nd, 2009 at 7:49 am
Really a great piece, I feel the flow at “stalk the sordid alleys concrete jungle that a city is
in search of prey” and “in black-lit pasts and background social scenes only bring the sharpest knife to the fight” seems to be a little off. Was that intended? Your imagery is excellent and I especially like the last three lines “on the streets of the city in the passionate grip of those sickly-sweet summer nights.”
great job!
May 25th, 2009 at 11:01 am
I would like to hear you read this piece, perhaps you could bring it to the open mic?
June 2nd, 2009 at 4:51 am
being a mother I wonder … is the
tigers and Lions of our youth …
bullies? or just a play on their wildness
or youth, young strong?
This is a very strong piece… not to be
looked at and understood in just one setting.
I seen your poem on your mother’s blog, you
are so talented… and she is so proud of you.
Thank you.
Rane
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June 4th, 2009 at 12:28 pm
Love it!
June 14th, 2009 at 5:14 pm
I find the sudden shift to love and kisses really out of nowhere here. Up to that point it is all Dostoyevskian like Raskolnikov is lurking on your streets. Why summer nights?
You are getting a groove going and a rhythm that breaks out of your old Yeats and Coleridge, though I know you love them. I love this. power through man.