Californian Poems | Examples

The Queen of Venice Beach

Some late blooming occurred in the seventies
when 'Hey Jude' and the sunshine in her head
went public.

She settled into a craft shop, gently molested
by Applejack and Californian Skunk
until a self-image exploded.

An aftershock of rainbows continued.
Ruckle lips roam a now manic makeup.
Gainsborough hats trump frizzy kablooey.

On the boardwalk, she stands palimpsest,
a fragmented journalism of more colorful times.

She turns to her subjects, smiles, not for the camera,
but at the one thing that detonated her
back when she was just a girl
with looking-glass eyes.

SLAB IS FAB

SLAB IS FAB

I just found out about the town of Slab City
Well, perhaps it is not really a town as such
It sounds like a mix of Hippie and Wild West
Where a civilisation, in its way, has regressed
But in fact from far away, I cannot tell much
I have seen reviews online that it smells ty

Perhaps the next step is to go and actually see
A commune of sorts, but traditionally lawless
Maybe I’ll arrange some sort of early protection
But they’ll have many needles for any injection
There will be a few who think they are flawless
Yet is this a place to live a real life or a fantasy

Otherwise homeless, some find accommodation
Old wrecks, and homes not so mobile anymore
Drugs, yet not quite the same as the Sixties was
In it’s way, a depressed and ugly version of Oz
Perhaps they would not term themselves as poor
As after all, it’s still a Californian desert location

Tumbled stones

She uses her self to inspire. 
Often times it leads to
people creating feelings for her.
She looks to those who are
overly arrogant and pompous
to guide her through letting people down.
She had been said to her cohort
" is he cute enough to
be thin: cause I don't like know fat man!"
well this ser well with some of
those assocated with her business: so
they got together to hire
a trio of triplettes who
were all different sizes
to fool her into thinking she
was overly effective. A national
television proucer
desided to follow this skit thinking
it would be wise
to record the fallout
to see if an audeince saw
this to be worthy
of viewership. They desided to script the happenings
one date would explore Freno's underground garden's in Californian.
The other would "Be were Rubeun Ruby mined".
The last date would be in "the Resturants of Sacremento".
Just another Rainbowstrangers stop giving me adive.
Yes and beaautiful things, the prettiest seemed so right!
Best by morning, a soothing remind.
wine ages forever, the best things grow with time!

Te Queen of Venice Beach

Some late blooming
occurred in the seventies
when 'Hey Jude'
and the sunshine in her head
went public.

She settled into a craft shop,
gently molested
by Applejack and Californian Skunk
until a self-image exploded.

An aftershock of rainbows
continued.
Ruckle lips roam now
a manic makeup.
Gainsborough hats trump
a woozy kablooey.

On the boardwalk;
she stands palimpsest,
a fragmented journalism
of more colorful times.

She turns to her subjects,
smiles, not for the camera,
but at the one thing
that detonated her
back when
she was just a girl
with looking-glass eyes.

Panagiotas Poor Footsies

Pangie was struggling in the heat
Said this heat wave sure has me beat
This old hot sun
Is no damn fun
Its swelling my poor little feet.

Written on 18th August 2020. 

Dedicated to Panagiota who is struggling in the Californian heat wave. 
On a serious note I hope things cool down for her. 
She gave kind permission to post it.

Perished Pines

tall pine trees burning
in californian wildfires  ~
lifeless silhouettes

Written 20 august 2019.

Syllables' checked on How many syllables.com.
5/7/5.

For trees haiku contest
Sponsored by Tania Kitchin.

An Offering of Poppies

Californian wildfires, aided by strong winds, left a trail of destruction, 
deaths, and acres of ravaged land.  Yet, out of the ashes, stimulated 
by intense heat, fire follower seeds start to sprout, and in no time at 
all, an explosion of orange and red poppies give a lease of new life to 
the barren land – a gratifying gift of hope which only nature has the 
ability to offer. 

          the essence of rain
          nourishes an arid heart -
          inflorescent love


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

Let the pens flow – Haibun Contest
Sponsored by Jenish Somadas

Mattress

Can I be your mattress
On your lovely bed
I come in varying sizes
From single To Californian King
With a choice of different fillings
For you to take your pick
When you’re feeling racy
I’m a dizzy mess
When you’re feeling sexy
I’ll add a little spring
Felling more rampant
You’ll enjoy a good jump
Fancy a slap and tickle
You could sailor in to a seaman
On the waves of a water bed
You won’t even notice I’m there
Softly absorbing but equally well sprung
I’ll be as quiet as a mouse
Especially when you’re on top of me
And the lights have all gone out

California Is Drying

California is Drying

California is drying up they say
this drought
only needs another year before 
California
is a sun dried tomato 
California 
is cracked clay of a dry river bed
California
is like the white salty residue my sweat leaves
when i am dehydrated 
riding my bike 
through the soul sucking heat 

California has 1 year of water left
and people still stand in the heat 
and wastewater
on their greedy green grass lawns
you cannot eat grass

California known for farming 
citrus fruits and
endless fields of grapes for wine 
avocados and almonds 
hydroponic pot plants and hops for craft beer

If you drive through 
Central Californian farms 
All the trees are dead
all the people are gone 
all the dust is kicked up
all of the lush farmland 
is now a desert

and our government sucks us dry 
and we suck once fertile California dry
the once proud Golden State 
falls apart in my hands like a petrified fossil.

The Brilliance of the Ending Day

Let's sit under the tall, satured elm after the long-gone storm;
its branches, unwavering and steaming, are awfully warm.
They stretch their drooping arms to brush off the remaining hues,
those of a placid sunset turned apple-red.
Hear me warbling along with the shivering mockingbird,
too lonely and in somber mood. He relies on his brain,  
absorbing the faint heat...before he dies of his amorous evening blues,
I should comfort him and soothe his inconsolable pain.
And watching him, I recall the state I was in, miserable and frail...
until I realized that I was missing: a hand to touch me and restore my will.

I have brought a basket of Californian sun-ripened fruits,
tempting and lively; look inside, cast your gleeful glance on it.
Be that eagle with quick claws when his empty guts emit growls; 
pick the ones your palate craves or those with attracting colors.
My pick is that of a yellow apple like your golden hair slightly wet,
it reminds this lover of the delirious laughter chasing another sunset.
Let's behold the brilliance of the ending day which refuses to subdue;
only the sadness concealed in the depths of our souls holds the clue.

I - My Imaginary Friend

I wake up in a bath of sweat
 I am late starting my journey
 Weightless clothes hide my being
 Protect the skin from reality, my reality 
 The garage door shuts up in a rearview mirror
 There is nothing else but emptiness
 The rose bushes prune themselves
 For an artificial Californian winter 
 Dislocated trees pretend to whither genetically
 Along the street I slide encapsulated in soundproof
 I ride in a bath of distorted forms
 Cannot figure out why the street ends up in stairs 
 I merge in an one-way freeway with ends of marine layers
 Curious eyes greet somber, slow and mute police lights
 I am finally free to fly and collapse in the Pacific
 Slapped by wreaths with my name in purple 

* 

A three year old with ash blonde hair jumps up her beach towel
 She runs towards the ocean in an excited déjà vu 
 I grab me with my two little hands and smile at my regenerated youth
 An obsessive dream re-occurring - our street ending up in stairs…
Again and again…

I - My Imaginary Friend

I wake up in a bath of sweat
 I am late starting my journey
 Weightless clothes hide my being
 Protect the skin from reality, my reality 
 The garage door shuts up in a rearview mirror
 There is nothing else but emptiness
 The rose bushes prune themselves
 For an artificial Californian winter 
 Dislocated trees pretend to whither genetically
 Along the street I slide encapsulated in soundproof
 I ride in a bath of distorted forms
 Cannot figure out why the street ends up in stairs 
 I merge in an one-way freeway with ends of marine layers
 Curious eyes greet somber, slow and mute police lights
 I am finally free to fly and collapse in the Pacific
 Slapped by wreaths with my name in purple 

* 

A three year old with ash blonde hair jumps up her beach towel
 She runs towards the ocean in an excited déjà vu 
 I grab me with my two little hands and smile at my regenerated youth
 An obsessive dream re-occurring - our street ending up in stairs…
Again and again…

The Last Hit

On the rowdy, raucous, Californian road,
I found his shutterd store, selling guns,
tobacco and more,
and the man came out in a brown 
cockroach-coat and said, "can I help you?"

"I need a forty five and shells," I said,
"Well I,ve got a twenty two with mercury tips,"
he replied, "OK," I said, "that'll do I'll try,"

and when I'd loaded it, I pointed it straight 
at his eye; and he gasped and told me, "not 
the face, it wouldn't be right,"

and he took it thru his brown cockroach- 
coat and heaving-breathing lungs; and when 
the round came out, with the truth, and spraying
blood and greed; it stopped on the faded 
calendar behind; right on today's date;

and I wondered why and I wondered why?
and then the radio sang out;

"my oh my what a wonderful day!"

and I ran out into the black and white 
sirened-street, and the police aimed their 
guns, and lies at my summer coat, and 
Honolulu summer shirt; and as their bullets 
spurted thru, and lifted my feet off the
startled-starling lazy street, I quickly sang; 

"my oh my what a wonderful day!"

Deranged

Quakes are whistling through my Californian 9 acres of hills
Targeting all of the marked souls I have killed

Whispers of violence scream inside my hatred-prone heart
Infecting my cranium and pulling my body apart

Shadows possess my lifeless body in bits
When will the madness inside of me quit?

Eyes closed in despair as my fingers type out these words
To desperately get my world of madness to others finally heard

Paranoid and crazy I watch my windows and doors
To prevent anymore of this world's gore

Locking myself out of my own house in a deep shame
To counterattack Satan's plan to steal my name

Planning to steal my existence I wait
To bombard Satan with every ounce of this deranged hate

Banishing me from the world he wants so bad to overrule
Laughing hysterically at me for pulling my Tarot 'Fool'

Sinister secrets and a deeply dark haze
To never get through this insignificant maze

Porsche 911

Soul matters
Driving in the Californian sun
Reaching out of your car laughing at pedestrians
River flowing clear as day
Sunlight shining
Amazing flow
Old times
Drugs
Cocaine
Mafia
Alone in the Cali sun
Diamond rings
Glowing night
Amazing women
Oooooo!
Diamonds!

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