This is when the old and the young,
beasts and confraternal drunks
damn the consequences of death
lying porous on crossroads upon
bifurcated paths, fractured junctions
and ceremonial cul-de-sacs...
The time is immaterial,
so long as the traffic lights — the veggie-green,
the claret, and the urine-amber —choose their slow
blinking and rapid-eyelid movement carefully.
And moon might decide not to power its own light.
Tenebrous tracks then fill our eyes with the age of
sea monsters blinded by charcoal waves.
Need I hail the neon signs of bordellos!
And the city’s restless constellations!
They sparkle with rage and with the brio of rioting stars,
thus adding celestial films to our already overloaded eyes....
But that’s another story.
C’mon... we are no Deer or Asahel descendants!
Closely related to sloths, millipedes and snails,
we drag our feet, which in turn drag the volumes of
stupidity in us, aggravated by drams and midnight parties
held between a flowing weekend and a stagnant Thursday.
One way to tell a tourist
In the New York City scene
Is if someone on a corner waits
Until the light turns green.
For natives look both ways, of course,
And if no traffic’s there,
They cross against the light or else
Mid-block, without a care.
This always was illegal, yet
We locals would insist
That the law was so ignored it seemed
It didn’t quite exist.
Well, now that’s true, for since last week
Jaywalking is allowed,
So all you tourists, take a chance
And join the New York crowd.
Around around around iwe igo
more fake poems fraudsters show
autistic infamy
the ability to see patterns and queues
who do you think you really fool?
other than old farmers who do not care
his chickens cluck as much as you click
ai ai woah
ai ai No!
Bonus Verse added completely free for your reading pleasure!
And I
have to say
no more Jaywalking
wheely stop it
simply obey
Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde
Jovial Dr Jekyll played for juvenile Justice
a just jaspered journey
jokingly jumped a joyride
to juicy jukebox jabbering
in jackal jackboots
from nearby jungle
Dr Jekyll clasped a jackknife eating
jambalaya to justify a
juggled juxtapositional
jurisdiction jamming
as jugular vein jingled jewels
joyfully jauntily jaywalking
to a jay named Jim Jolly !
Onward he jumped to a
Jungian junction
Jupiter jocund watching his
journeying joints
journalese seemed a jibe jig
but neither Jewess, Jesuit
or jeweller jiggled this job
So he jerked his jess
like a jape for Japan
Jejuning onto January for the
next jangle of jasmine
No jellyfish was Dr Jekyll in Jordanian jerkin
though sometimes Mr Hyde
with jeroboam swirling alongside !
jaywalking laws, can’t cross the road
but you can own the gun you load
shooting bullets and taking lives
can’t cross the road from left to right
so gun laws would put your freedom at stake
you can’t cross the road for goodness sake!!
It appears your freedom’s fake,
making laws no one else makes!!
*Hashtag Perspective
own a gun, legal, freedom
cross the road, illegal, prison.
Sure I jaywalk he said. It’s in my genes.
I inherited this trait from my father.
I cannot help it.
He always jaywalked too.
I was astounded.
We had known each other for ten years.
I had never heard him talk about a father.
Where does your father live? I asked.
In heaven.
Oh, I’m sorry. What happened?
We are not sure.
All we know is he got hit by a car.
Jimmy Jeevers jaywalked
on Jefferson on the last
day of January while wearing
his jaunty jester hat which
slipped over his jolly eyes
when a speeding Jeep jammed
him between two parked
cars, a Jaguar and Jetta
as curious onwatchers
waited for the ambulance
to arrive to take Jimmy to
St. Joseph Hospital where
his life was saved by the
judicious and caring staff.
Moral of this story is
not to wear a
jaunty jester hat
while jaywalking.
June 27, 2020
A nurse takes time
To hang a DNA rainbow strain
Of Christmas bulbs
Along my gray window ledge
He plugged them in
Bringing a campfire glow of embers
Under my lids
And to the shirking corners
And the inflating machines shushing the room
Below
In the cobblestone valley of downtown
Ballerinas of steam
Spin
From paper-pushed vents in the empty streets
Window shopping on Washington Square
Laces of faces and hands
Pressed to glass
Longing for suits at Kositcheks
Or gold and silver from Linn & Owen
Mists jaywalking
And flagging a cold evening of vacated taxis
I dream
Of taking my wife’s hand
Pirouetting her across a crowded floor
At the Green Door
To a band bellowing the flutes of Canned Heat
Flinging sweat again like bathers in an ocean
Kissing and hugging and ass grabbing
Elbows bent with Fireball shots
High-fiving
Imploring return to our basic instinct
The perfect gift
Of lust and love marked by our fingerprints.
In the experience of a great love, everything that happens becomes an event related to that love. ~ Romano Guardini
As I drive by the place you last breathed,
suddenly I am just a heart behind the wheel
and you, a big blue sky-like lung I cannot see
the end or beginning of.
There is so much space within your rib cage:
I could drive a thousand miles
and never leave your love.
I pass a corner coffee shop.
You always wanted tea, very sweet.
A black man in a Yankee cap
won’t wait to cross the street.
I brake.
He expects hostility.
I search his startled face.
He wears your race and team.
I am the heart that needs you
blue or brewed or jaywalking.
March 2, 2019
Dance of Death Poetry Contest
No jaywalking,
Instead use the overpass;
No loading and unloading
Of passengers male or lass.
No parking
Of the cars old and new;
No overspeeding,
Eyes watch from the view.
No tailgating,
Drive not too closely behind;
No overtaking,
Life is on the line.
No u-turn
Every minute of the day;
No stopping anytime
At the well-paved freeway.
No smoking,
It's odorous to one's breath;
No littering,
Make no mess to one's health.
No trespassing,
The land is not yours;
No entry,
Guards stand at the doors.
Post no bill
To enjoy easy movement;
No vacancy,
Nothing but room for improvement.
These and more make man
Refrain from any strife;
Neither going out on a limb,
Nor breaking no signs of life.
You may find this hard to believe
But I just saw a monkey
Drive by me doing eighty
In a Maserati
Eating rainbow ice cream
In a cone from Dairy Queen
I don't mean to sound mean
But should a monkey be eating ice cream
Just then I saw a cat
Right before he went splat
Jaywalking will often do that
And that my friend is straight up fact
The monkey swerved to avoid him
That's when he lost control and
Into a brick wall he slammed
As the ice cream went a flying
Since a cat has nine lives
He came to quite surprised
As Keith Richards does most nights
The ice cream landed just right
The monkey's now in heaven
The cat is ice cream licking
The Maserati is a has been
So I guess this must be the end
Elegy for Heidi
I
The clock ticks away.
But there is no layer of time
and no decision to make.
II
I have been jaywalking
on the edge of the roof
for the last few weekends;
down below the grass looks
already dark, depressed,
as if death has made it.
then a bird, a simple
blackbird sits on the bough.
It cries out and a hand
rises from the green earth
like a bride waking from
her bridal night, gleaming.
I know, I know, I know,
we are all life’s disciples.
III
“Come on, wake up!”
“My God, you are from East.
It is
Still night here.” She said.
=© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar