Stress City Poems

USA busway
East Coast to West Coast
Greyhound Bus vision
Lots of scenery in reason
It took four days
Hour by Hour
Time didn’t sour
That is what I call a vacation...

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Sanctuary, a sacred place
        Holy, Holy, Holy
     where worshipers reach 
   ...

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over occupied world
bewildering hodge-podge of people
pushing stress where it ought not to be

in the slim rays of late day
in the splattered mess of guttered streets
a...

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Was this a bold  endeavour or worst-case high risk plot?
 In one sense I was caught between two poles apart  concerns.
One must never...

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The lights changing
Cars racing
Salvation army bells ringing

Shoppers buying
Children crying
Sales people convincing
Customers wincing

Honking horns
Life is a thorn
Shrinking income
Angry and confused
Is this person I should become?

Constant stress
Wish...

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the train blows in a hurry
Travelling from city to city
making a route for the night
today is Tuesday and it is cold

perspectives are average or weak
no...

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I don’t even know why, I even worry.
To ever think another can beat me at me, Well that would make an interesting story.
Next chapter please...

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Pigeon caught on a subway platform
              bobbing in a landscape of feet
Escape...

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White crisp shirts
The clackers make their way to
The central
Sea salt is in the air
Frown lines and stress lines
Upon canvases of many
Wooden benches
To rest your heavy...

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Tired of the crowded city 
I long for the peace 
Of the open country, 
Resting on a soft  mound of grass 
Beside a gentle...

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Scalding hot
The melting pot
City slickers
With knotted knickers
Traffic jams
Slaughter of lambs
Put up a fight
Speed of light
Amidst the rat race
Within reach a can of mace
Keeping up
Got bumped...

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Hustle and bustle
Of downtown
Menacing skyscrapers
And their shadows
Sensing the gravity
Picking up the pace
Rushing from point A
To elusive point B 
Traffic signs and lights
Pressure building
The simmering stress
The...

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Here in the park, on my perch in the shade,
A slice of the city is clearly displayed:
A child chasing butterflies (not with success),
Some tree-climbing boys...

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Who in their right mind, would set this out as life, 
to live their days on edge, the edge of a sharpened knife. 
I belong...

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The steel and glass reach to the sky,
the ground covered in man-made stone,
there are always people everywhere,
they scurry ‘bout while on their phones.
They call this...

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