Midnight boom town streets have this allure
imagining an uncanny venture
eavesdrop veil surround but dark as coal
how I love my after hours stroll
Secret worlds unfold their impish plot
mesmerised entanglement a tiered whatnot
black crush velvet sky we must extol
how I love my after hours stroll
Gilt fantasies that float across each lane way
fluorescent gremlin from some ghostly parking bay
gust on salt ice pier might buttonhole
how I love my after hours stroll
Snow clad mall whistler gaffe prone
while wandering the ink hue urban zone
a chapter lift and snatch from begging bowl
how I love my after hours stroll
Traffic signals stellar stoic stance
heartbeat of nocturnal moonlight dance
frozen digit signage reeks of twinkling North Pole
how I love my after hours stroll
boom town of Osage,
the Oklahoma land rush. . .
first western to win
Copyright © 2018 by Mark Toney. All rights reserved.
First published 2018 in Hollywood Haiku via wattpad.com
Spruced, cleaned up, did up
It's been ages or so of corruption erupt
As yet, making heads or tails of disrupt
What could have been, a city of brotherly love
From, we will never blink free of
The once boom town of olden days, forgotten
With its forsaken downtrodden
Reflection of shattered wind hum
And vanished forebears, begotten
Times --News flash hearing
Bouncing back, itty-bitty
Fordtown, Motor City
Rousing, awakening, breathing
The start of a new beginning
Know-how, patcher uppers, mending
Casing, coating, covering
The fractured wounds of di-TRITE, history
By and by, one and all to see
That you're recovering so forth, to be
Time will camouflage all of thee
Leftover wounds, fade and shade
Generous amount, lipstick, paint, masquerade
To feather back in, the once decried
And find character domain with pride
No sense in holding, something, blurring
Expectation is in the purifying
Smell the wild breeze of futurity
Witness the buds blooming
And a sea of new faces developing
Promising, a forgetful time of *Big D* nebulous dreary
An abandon old town, from where life once thrived,
now sets alone forsaken and desolate in the late evening sun.
Empty shadows dance across the ground gripping the old town
with an eerie reality of lost hope and futile dreams.
Old building sags in the moonlight.
Homesteads stretch out across the endless barren land.
Empty like the promise of a new life.
A cool breeze drifts aimlessly through open doors,
and broken windows, scattering into time pieces of the past.
.
Now,shall we sing your song
In oases round the earth
Where,glowing orbs in shady halls
Rolling hips, painted lips
Announce with distanced faith
"We are the world..."
No,it won't be your crown,rugged priest
Though princes snicker at your snickers
And hallowed monks on hand,
Swear at your loosened cuffs
Your nimbus 'round shaggy locks
The misty tears that would not drop
To wet the rough droughty plain
Drinking pain in place of rain
Sweet choir at our festive Mass
Droning birds swirling dust
Bringing only,so much grain
But plenty more in hope and love
To a world of cheerless seasons
From saviours with kindly reasons
Leading them a Boom town saint
In jeans, with guitar and song
God bless you, Bob Geldof!
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