Starlight Hotel
A visit with Jesse, a homeless man.
I love my freedom, peace, and the quiet too.
A Starlight Hotel window gives a nice view.
Far in the distance, trains rumble on the rail
I don't need a watch, its schedule never fails.
I heard a dog howl close to my hotel room.
When gravel cracks, they are coming soon.
Sleeping with the stars, named for mother,
Along with my daughter and loving father.
Starting in the fast lane, lookin' for romance
I do deserve to have one more loving chance.
I grew up faster as I learned my selfish ways
The Starlight Hotel is the best place to pray.
. <©
I am sitting in a hotel lobby in a small town south of Des Moines
That means Iowa for those of you who did not know
I am drinking coffee with French Vanilla flavoring and sweetener
Waiting for my twin sister, listening to loud country western music
I would not mind the music if it was on a proper volume
It is weirdly loud and proud for six a.m.
as if it thinks it is better than rock and roll or bluegrass
my nerves are screaming
Restless dreams take over me
They repeat themselves
In unconscious reverie
I reveal no sense
Always travelling to place
That I should remember
Need to see my darling’s face
It’s the main agenda
But she can’t be there to tell
And I have no clue
Why I’m here in this hotel
In the room I knew
Down there in the trees
Leaves are rustling low
The Bayswater Road beneath
In the evening glow.
the Biltmore Hotel
appears through my car window
by my new office
two workplaces as bookends
to forty years and one life
Heartbreak Hotel
by JG
Those kind, heartfelt words he used...
His soft touch flowing through your hair.
That perfect kiss to seal a magical night,
His charming humor calming your mind.
An unforgettable smile that soothed your soul,
And the sound of that cherished L word beneath the stars.
But days pass
Without his sweet voice in your ear.
Your skin forgets his warming touch.
Her heart stops—eyes blinded.
Across the room,
His hands now move through another’s hair.
The same sweet lines
Persuading her home with him.
A single tear falls down her cheek.
Another room in the Heartbreak Hotel.
Do you remember when phones had a cord to the wall outlet?
Our son was about five years old.
We were in a hotel room and he wanted to call daddy.
He ran over to the phone and picked it up.
As he looked at me with a very puzzled look, he said it has no dial tone.
Yes, no dial tone because we are in a hotel room.
Beneath the leaves
One may find
Scribbles of another kind
Written there are hidden truths
Collated by collective roots
Stashed under a different roof
Stored next to a bed of bark
Are twisted tales from the dark
You’ll find something similar to
Gideon’s Bible soaking up the dew
Nuclear holocausts they will survive
Though, these Hotels take their lives
So, if you’re a cockroach checking in
You just may want to find a friend
In Jesus!
Heart ache, a road break off route sixty-six
Over each river and every state line
Tour bus travellers all finding their fix
Everyone hyphened is heightened this time
Lost luggage losing it's share of the light
American dreams with shutters pulled down
Memphis blues music feels alright tonight
Elvis themed runners surprising the town
Rocky road blue grass fades slowly away
In between cities and one horse places
Cocktail umbrellas recall brighter days
Appreciating these world weary faces
Neighbours, travellers, old lovers and friends
Ask for directions to where this tale ends.
Is Hotel Cecil cursed?
A portal to hell?
How many have died there?
Accidentally or by murder and suicide?
It is the most notoriously haunted hotel in America.
Associated with macabre incidents, serial killers.
Downtown Los Angeles is host to these seven hundred rooms.
Shall I book you a room? There is always a vacancy.
Diabolical laughter.
New Orleans’ 1962 ostentatious hotel lobby
extravagant crystal fluted chandeliers
highly polished walnut counter tops
opulent Italian marble floors
plush scarlet velvet cushioned couches
swankly brass and glass décor
luxury never seen after nineteen sixty-two
He lived in room 757
just like a haiku
thats what he said to me
just like a haiku
eesh
There’s a reason I avoid this part of town
if not for the psuedo intellectualism that spreads
faster than herpes at a swingers party
then for the cheap drinks for too much money
the door guy that thinks he deserves a tip
keeping out the ‘riffraff’ as they used to say
The Polo shirt with the Raybans over in the corner
makes eyes at the one girl his buddies brought to the bar
if he plays his cards right
he might just have a chance
and why not?
Did I walk into a bar
or some sort of reality show
where are the cameras and who’s
ing with me?
The carbon copy cut outs of people all staged around the place
talking about haikus
and their twitter account
and their many followers
not my scene as I head to the door
As a pick up from my coat from the check
the girl tells me to have a good night
I doubt it
no one writes Haiku’s anymore
in skimpy short shorts
she marches into breakfast
no eyes go up
I had forgotten
the immodesty of youth
for two seconds
it’s a public place
another wears pajamas
and bedroom slippers
view of rich soo locks
grand hotel that's aged well
among new venues
The birds are chirping
Better go into the shades
Someone is singing.
Outside,
footsteps in the corridor
grow nearer then pass,
only to stop and knock
on a door
further down
followed by voices, sobs
and muffled sounds
wheeled off into a silence
until sometime hence
when footsteps again
will tread the floor
and there will be
a knock
on a door.
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