Standing in the shadow of a tower
I wonder if my father’s ghost is up there?
Looking down or watching?
I walk a broken path
The concrete has crumbled, trash has collected
Walking with broken men, their path the same
To nowhere
We continue forward
The palaces above peer down on us
The men in those places unaware of our path
The women unaware of us
And still we walk
To nowhere
Past the tower
Past our ghosts
Chinese Flower
Old men watch the sunset
We dreamed on these streets, we walked through back alleys
The bakery is somber today,
The old men still gather in front
But today something is different
Swap meet memories haunt me here
In that Chinatown
The stink of its trash
The perfume of times long past
The perfume of histories
Of hers
And mine
Paths, which are different now
And have gone their ways
Here’s to Chinese Flower
To those times, and the streets where our paths crossed
The old men watched the sunset that day
In front of this bakery
And we walked the streets together
Destroyer of thought
Snuff out the flame
Kill the seeds before they grow
As they will come for you
Destroyer of thought
Build this machine
This device of unstable
This device of ruin
Poison them, prison their thoughts
Before they grow to come for you
You
Destroyer of thought
He rocks back and forth holding mothers hand
His cries are the thunder his tears the rivers and streams
Child of Chaos
Curious of his world, a world on fire
Curious of life and death, so much to explore
The ground will rumble, our skies will fill with smoke
Ash will sometimes rain down,
He will be wobbling along, holding mothers hand,
Looking out over his world
Child of Chaos
limitations
a girl walks near
nervous
for the first time on her own
in the big world
the big big world
rich in freedom only
rich in potential
rich in charm
hard wood floors
migrant families live near
nights are filled with sirens
the nights are filled with 60 watt dreams
the lamp was her mothers
the room is hers
like her mother before her
on her own, independent
the building stinks of use
of years of tenants
of life
of other starting out, just like her
it’s not much
but it’s all hers
for the first time
she’ll do great things here
it’s her small place in the big big world
Lost Neighborhoods
Ghosts.
Faces of the children you knew when you were young.
Where are they now?
Nevermind, faces change anyway.
What about the backdrops? About those spaces, the park equipment, trees, and the graffiti?
It is said nothing is permanant.
What about the dreams we had then, do we still have them now?
This is the drowning time
Little dog bark on your leash
Choke
Neon nights.
Orange night-lite glow
Men walk alone here
They search
Search street after street
The same as anywhere else
Every city every street
Every face far enough away to be a shadow
Men walk alone here
Old met new today
It was scary
The child saw death in the old mans face,
and he didn’t know what it meant
The old man saw life and he smiled
He wheeled his mechanical chair and he smiled
The child smiled back
Old met new today
Reading about the dead
About those who wander Hollywood streets
Afraid
Alone
Hungry fiends roam the spotlight nights
Hungry
Angry…
At loss
At the lack of control
They will snuff out flames, no matter how bright, brilliant, or beautiful