Sultry red,
yellow pillow sky,
teased tandem,
with citric,
shades afloat oe’r waking town,
mirror bubbly folk in lane
jubilant,
trademark burrs catching,
glad echoes,
urge urban,
tableau of chalkmarked gold stamp,
where sheer pluck triumphs
buses swerve,
rapid rail steel track,
squeaky noise,
hoot … toot…. cabs,
en route symbol’s “jaunty” march,
co migrant orbit
When summer sizzles energy fizzles
you can fry an egg on the sidewalk
New York city cooks like a griddle
it's too hot to make small talk
there's a place I know where you can find me
it don't cost a dime come on up and join me
when midday swelters pavement's melting
yellow taxi cabs gasp for breath
it's so hot my brain feels like popping
even my shadow starts to sweat
if the Jersey Shore's not your scene
can't take the crowds come on up and join me
got my sounds got my shades
got my cooler got it made
I could use a little help with my suntan lotion
so tell me who needs an ocean
up on Tar Beach overlooking city streets
Tar Beach leave your cares below
if you want to beat the heat
Tar Beach NYC is where we you an' me
Tar Beach is where we can go
I am grateful for having had the opportunity this summer
to travel with my family to London and Paris…
and as we road the tube, in cabs, atop a double decker bus,
in a punt upon the Thames,
the Metro, a boat upon the Seine
and in an plane across the ocean….
I was happily reminded how
traveling with those you love
is and always will be…
poetry in motion.
(verse 1)
I have really long hair,
don't understand why people stare.
I'm looked down upon by society,
they try to destroy my dignity.
The people call me lazy and low class,
'cause my mop is almost to my ass.
They call me a hippy refugee,
and try to discredit my capability.
(chorus)
I drive a beat-up old car.
I'm your back road man!
I live at the local bar.
I'm the back road man!
(verse 2)
My vehicle didn't pass emissions,
now I can't get tabs.
My car no longer has insurance,
now I'm chasing taxi cabs.
So, I borrowed plates from a regal,
that belonged to my ex-honey.
Now my mopar looks street legal,
what a way to save money.
(chorus)
I smoke hand rolled cigars.
I'm your back road man!
I drink beer from jars.
I'm the back road man.
Lyricists Inc.
D.A.P. / Digital Analog Productions.
Written: 1-27-1995 David A.Porter
©? 01-24-2023
I worry that my coat will murder me.
Hanging on Banister’s Edge it’s a man lurking, dark.
I’ve seen rows of killers shadowed and waiting,
hidden in the ridges of the living room radiator,
ready to pounce during a moonlit trip to the toilet.
From my position in bed, a stool could be a gremlin hunched,
the door frame a monstrous arm arching and looming, holding a hollow void.
The sheets around my feet are vines, all patterns the jaws of a Venus flytrap.
Snap.
Black cabs are hearses, flowerbeds fresh graves;
babbling brook rope swings form a noose, gravel paths stone me to death.
My cardigan knows it should be a straitjacket,
socks and watches nod knowingly towards shackles and manacles imaginary.
Cushions on a sofa? Nothing but false sense of security quicksand.
(Competition title: No 1299)
Reading fridge magnets; surprised how interesting,
the world is when stamped into rubber decals.
Rome, Ankara, both Buda and Pest.
Watching a colorful rolling diorama,
pictographs tumbling over a flat white-scape.
Images recalling airport loudspeakers,
beeping taxi cabs and swaying camels.
I nod at a graphic depiction of a flight of pelicans,
bombing Florida,
imagine Sarasota sheltering under torrents of guano.
There is a decal from Mongolia, the magnet reads:
“Welcome to sunny Ulan Bator!" China is reduced to a
bowl of rice with dragons swooping for crumbs
much like London pidgins.
The Roman colosseum nudges Egyptian pyramids,
old lovers, slowly crumbling away.
I don’t see one for Ohio; maybe they only sell them
in Michigan…for target practice.
The fridge is a travel guide for those that sip morning coffee,
and wonder should they even get dressed today.
Must be cool to be a farmer.
(Well, except for all the work!)
Having produce at your fingertips
Would be a lovely perk.
Feeding chickens, brushing horses,
Waking up to milk the cows,
All sound great within the fantasy
My urban mind allows.
Wearing flannel shirts and Carhartt’s,
Picking crops and baking bread,
Trading subways, cabs and buses
For a tractor ride instead.
Oh, I know I’m being foolish;
Farming’s not a lot of fun
And it takes the kind of labor
That’s not meant for everyone.
But from days of “Old MacDonald,”
When I think about a farm,
I don’t focus on the grunt work,
Just the hype of all its charm.
Sunny side and shady side
They don’t usually collide
Reconciling midday sun
Makes them equal, they are one
Matters least which side you go
Walking fast or walking slow
Same is true for rainy day
Street is wet, each side can say
Walk on here, passerby
Other side’s not worth to try
Its old pavement is uneven
It has nothing to believe in
Crooked houses, beaten slabs
Puddles, parking lot for cabs
Same can say the other side
But it’s pointless to decide
So whatever side you’re on
You are there, then you are gone
In walking distance from my house
Are restaurants a’plenty.
In just a 5 block radius,
There must be more than 20.
There also are a lot of stores –
For food or drugs or liquor
And also several hospitals
(Though cabs get you there quicker).
In walking distance, there is art –
Just choose a cool museum
And Google the exhibits now
Then stroll on by to see ‘em.
You need an outfit, socks or shoes?
A book of stamps? Some flowers?
No matter what, it can be bought –
Just double-check the hours.
A city life has lots of noise
But anyone you talk to
Will tell you that it’s wonderful
To have so much to walk to.
Best Friend
My friend,
I think of you often.
I ponder why we are not together anymore.
I was happy, and laughed easy,
you did as well.
"Why are we not friends, anymore?"
I remember going to school,
and doing our homework together.
I remember bike rides,
to the beach,
walking in the water,
and playing in the tide pools.
I remember train rides,
sky cabs,
and silly fads.
We went to the movies,
and parties with just us.
I remember adventures,
without boundaries.
We were free, to be,
all that we could be,
because we had faith in each other.
You found a new friend,
and she did not like me.
She planted seeds of doubt.
They grew into great trees,
and I was lost among the weeds.
I wish that you were here,
... still.
Advent Of Spring
Reemerging sunlight magically illuminate a darkened alpine summit
Cloud lingered for an eternity now banished amidst surviving spruce
Spores through withered ground sprout anew like a recurring comet
Pristine water inundates bank of anonymous river nourishing moose
Above urban landscape people taste remnants of a variety of smells
Relishing April showers children emulate elfin leprechauns carousing
Cabs defying limousines vie for fares portraying overzealous gazelles
Memories of winter beneath a bluer sky heralds the advent of spring
01/13/2018
West Palm Beach
Florida USA
NOW AND THEN
Nothing has
changed in
Times Square.
Still bustling
for cabs
or hustling
the pedestrians.
7/7/21 Picture This 2 - 7 Lines Poetry
Joseph May
Chosen Image: #2
There were two cabs I remember when I was growing up.
Checker and Yellow.
070521PSCtest, Picture This 2 - 7 lines, Joseph May
Image chosen-#2; 2 stanzas; 7 lines total;
4 lines + 3 lines; 14 words. 3P
To gormandize upon the fungal billowing
of its noisome mustiness,
beguiles many to munch upon its earthy reek.
A creamy white meatiness enchants taste buds
to pillage pale fetid delights,
while a gluttonous well-being
permeates through every orifice.
Before they were banned from overhead storage
Durians ruled the sky.
Air sickness or a stomach churning turbulence
were deemed more desirable than
than those choking emissions
wafting from their pulpy substance.
High above the Indian ocean
passengers overcome by the funk
demanded parachutes.
Some renounced their white privilege
or fell to their knees to pray for breathing masks
to drop.
Even when disembarked, cabs would not carry them
fearing the lingering grip of clammy odors.
While still in their departure lounges
hardened Limburger eaters grew pale,
trembling at the thought of flying unprotected
from that most redolent of fruits,
the mighty all-pervading Durian.
Yellow cabs and pavements they call sidewalks,
Grand Central Station and the Metro too,
Central Park as big as a small city,
The Empire State’s great panoramic view.
A walk through Greenwich Village or through Chelsea,
The Hudson flowing deep beneath our feet,
Madison Square Garden for the boxing,
Musical named 42nd Street.
Take a ferry over to the statue,
That’s situated on Liberty Isle,
Stand at the base of the one World Trade Center,
The tallest u.s. building for a while.
Brooklyn Bridge and Rockefeller Centre,
A symbol of amazing self-made wealth,
Times Square to welcome in a brand new year,
A Macy’s trip to help your mental health!
The yankees stadium lies in the outskirts,
Back to the centre for a Broadway show,
Bloomingdales the height of any fashion,
Museums and Parks everywhere you go.
So get a cycle or hire yellow taxis,
To see most though I’d recommend you walk,
To see sights of a 24 hour city,
The magic and the beauty of New York!
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