Ode to the West Coast - POTD
Pop lock
Sandals with socks
Chrome glints
Rhythm don’t stop
The East might wake first
But the West owns the drop
We decide how the day ends
Slow burn on saltwater glass
Light folds into legend
As hours pass
Seattle rain hums through guitar strings
Portland hums strange with impossible things
LA mirrors shimmer with ambition’s glow
San Diego exhales
Calm
Steady
Slow
The Bay keeps talking in hustle and code
Tech rides the fog down a golden road
Pho steam curls by a muraled wall
Taco trucks preach flavor gospel to all
Grunge ghosts hum down alleyway seams
G funk rides out in low chrome gleams
We built peace signs into protest chants
Concrete remembers how the wind rants
Call it culture
Call it home
Call it flame
Every city a verse
Every block a name
Pretty women move like tidewater bright
Certain in their shine
Sure in their light
Men speak calm
But their minds run fast
Half rebel
Half calm
Built to last
Every accent a remix
Every street a beat
Soul food and sushi rolls
Uniquely meet
Dim sum with slang
Tacos with soul
Flavors blend in ways
That keep us whole
Professors surf before they teach
Students dream just out of reach
We learn from land that burns and heals
Salty ocean air covers what wildfire steals
Dreaming awake
Grounded yet high
Feet in the sand
Head in the sky
From Black Panthers
To beat poets’ hymns
From tech prophets
To Silicon code spins
We reinvent normal
Chill made art
Sunset speaks
Straight to the heart
We turn stillness into language
Fire into grace
We let rhythm breathe
At a West Coast pace
The East may rise first
In story and sign
But the West
Will always
Define the shine
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