Long Escalators Poems
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plane, bus 'n train
elevators 'n escalators
revelers 'n sale-day crowds
is where we meet
STRANGERS!
looking away,
with no eye-to-eye contact
no nod, wink, grunt of 'Hi's',
never ever recognizing
the sharers of the commons
shoved together
withdrawn incognito.
Here for thee be :
The Ten Commandments of Crowd Etiquette
Thou Shalt Honor Thy and Their Personal Bubbles
Thou Shalt Not Partake in Olfactory Betrayal
Thou Shalt Not Greet Strangers with a Nod, Only with Indifferent Defiance
Thou Shalt Yield Thy Seat only to the Ill, with-Child, Frail, Aged & the Lovely
Thou Shalt Stand Thy Ground, Letting Others Squeeze Pass Reluctantly
Thou Shalt Not Covet Another’s Seat or Space
Thou Shalt Keep Thine Phone Silent at Thine Side, and Do Not Speak
Thou Shalt Bear No Grudges for Shoves, Humphs & Grunts in Tight Spaces
Thou Shalt Honor all Queues, Despite their Length and Thy Lateness
Thou Shalt Yen the Zen of Strangers in Common Humanity
I walk into an old brick building on a campus.
It seems so familiar. . . as if I should know it,
and yet my memory is blurred.
Climbing steps, I’m sure of where I need to go.
I glimpse a door on an upper floor.
Opening it, I look inside. It’s not the room I believed I sought.
A feeling of foreboding now crawls over me.
Somehow I know. . . that somewhere in this building
some students wait for me.
Panic grips me as I think of the minutes I am losing.
That room. . . That room. . . Where is it?
I move down corridors, up stairs, down stairs,
Opening door after door after door after door
to rooms from which strangers’ faces stare blankly back at mine.
Now I’m racing down many flights of stairs, then up,
running to opposite sides of the building and back,
Steps turn into escalators! How strange. . . .Old blends into new.
The building, once so common, has now become gigantic.
I’m swallowed up by it, by its limitless labyrinth hallways
leading me to nothing. I must get back to where I started from!
Running, running. . . I awaken with a jolt!
Having drifted back to sleep, I find myself this time
on a bustling and modern city street.
It seems so familiar. . . . as if I should know it.
Those rising skyscrapers. A place I once lived or maybe visited?
Starting to walk, I seem to know (how do I know?). .
that a narrow street of tiny shops and outdoor vendors
waits around the corner, a cobbled street where new turns into old.
Again. . . That same hideous foreboding begins to creep upon me. . .
And as I turn around, the street I’d walked along looks not the same.
Should I try to backtrack? Something tells me. . . .
I have tried and failed at that before. . . in other dreams.
Panic is resurfacing again, for I just know. . .
I’m never going to find my way
back to where I started.
I've been noticing people without passion; a lost sense of pride, no dignity, no doubt. A plague of the mind which I cannot explain in short time; I suppose we can blame technology or the processed food. I might as well jump on the band wagon and blame Wal-Mart and McDonalds. People standing still on escalators and moving walkways, sitting on planes, driving our cars onto boats, waiting in line to buy popcorn at the movie theaters and sitting on couches are lifeless people full of dreams and criticism. (While I lay on my back writing poems) Placing blame on the man and pointing out others faults. Preying on their weakness and sucking the life out of them. They are us, you and I and him and her. We are the few, the proud, the American dream. And that's exactly what we've been doing... Dreaming; not living or doing or showing others that it's okay to be silly, or vulnerable, or laugh, or clap at the movies for that matter; clueless mindless humans with the ever so present resemblance to dead bodies, floating down lazy river. Laughs at the weak instead of laughing for weeks; in desperate need of revival; thirty compressions and two rescue breaths; survival means living and living means letting go so come on people; let's go! Life is full of love so love life. Live on, let it go, get off your high horse and say something's silly. Put your guard down for just a moment and open yourself up to the possibilities. Take the stairs. Smile at a stranger. Take a chance. Make a new friend. Lose your inhibitions and believe. Yes believe! (That) You are the most important piece to the puzzle. We all count and can make a difference. Stay positive and infect the world with kindness. Ultimately it is your choice; to live a full life or to live a life less full, floating down lazy river like a bunch of dead bodies.
2014
7/10/17
I'm going to still be a trailblazer
Going beyond all the acres
And glaciers
Above and below any crater
Similarities and differences on both sides of the equator
Events turning out minor and major
Waters with and without crocodiles or alligators
It was done realistically or through a simulator
Stairs, near and far from escalators
As well as elevators
People remaining loyal or becoming a traitor
Whether or not it had anything to do with paper
Objects beginning to wear and taper
Homes on and off the grid with or without generators
Please don't speak to me about any savior
The creator
Or so called 'maker'
And what you consider greater
Doing a lot of labor
And favors
I've been trying to help my loved ones, friends, and neighbors
While inside or out in nature
So much wiser and braver
I'm feeling like a gladiator
I've got to finish it now instead of later
Even if I put myself in danger
I'm not going to back down to any hater
Or instigator
Put you into place, with my foot on the accelerator
Close and beyond any chambers
Been feeling stranger
I'm not the best painter
For a long time I've been a gamer
Sometimes feeling like a failure
Near and far from strainers
And shipping containers
I'm not going to reach for any razor
Or stab anyone in the back with a sabre
Mall, Boutique, Department store treasures to my commercial heart do speak
Must frequent all to earn preferred status and join the frivolous clique
Glitzy curtains, fragrant candles, gaudy clothes through glamorous show windows peak
Sales, promotions, every-day values entreat any time during the week
Checks, petty cash start the extravaganza; plastic cards extend the streak
Nick knacks, valuables, and everything in between must seek
To grand openings, holiday giveaways, early previews, away I sneak
Revelling through posh galleries, gilded show rooms in the presence of chic manequins so sleek
Reconnoitering new fashions, suave styles, designer wears so sheek
Through crowded aisles, up squeaky escalators, into narrow corridors not for the meek
With such dedication, resolve, and passion you dare call me weak
My cabinets are stuffed, my closets are packed, my halls are cluttered; but I'm no freak
When classes break
we’re on the clock
don’t jam up the hall
don’t stand there and talk
Get out of my way
I have places to go
why the fecking-feck
are people so slow?
I hop down escalators
I fairly run down halls
I get bored in the elevators
I bounce off the walls
I plan ahead
I plot my course
through crowds I thread
it’s almost a sport
Tik tock people
no, not the app
stop acting like sheeple
I need a coffee between classes.
Excuse me,
I don’t mean to whine
but if you’re not at the front of the line
you can run out of time.
Once you can order, there’s no time to play
“Un croque-monsieur et un grand crème, s'il vous plaît”
and it isn’t a moment before you’re on your way.
as I’m sipping my coffee
students full up the line
as I savor my sandwich
some will run out of time
This swarm of students
are supposed to be brilliant
but they’re too cool to hurry
I shrug - c'est la vie
.
.
Songs for this:
Le Breakfast Club de Paris by Gabrielle Chiararo
C'est Si Bon by In-Grid
.
.
breakfast order:
croque-monsieur = a grilled ham & cheese breakfast sandwich
grand creame = a large coffee with heavy cream
We took our grandson for the day
To visit in the city.
Compared to where he lives, it must seem
Noisy, fast and gritty.
He marveled at the bridges,
The tall buildings and the river,
But there was one department
Where I knew that we’d deliver -
For elevators currently
Rank high up on his list
Of things that seem to thrill him.
(Escalators coexist.)
He proudly pushed the buttons,
Counted floors as they zipped by
And in Daddy’s office building
There were 8 that he could try!
A Barnes & Noble stop was great
Not only for a book
But for the escalators
(Up and down) that we all took.
Suburban kids are used to
Lots of room in which to play
But a nana with an elevator
Garners some cachet.
For someone, quite naive, from a far-off village,
My first trip in Sep.1988 to the United States
Was the most memorable journey I ever undertook~
An experience etched deep on memory slates!
My life was simple, waking up to the call of roosters
Going to teach in a nearby college through a dusty road,
And coming back home to resume duty as a housewife.
Through accustomed grooves only, I always trod.
With apprehension and excitement, in equal measure,
We got ready for our first overseas trip.
Crossing oceans we have seen only on world maps,
Our flight to New York finally touched down a vast airstrip.
The first glimpse of America was an experience
Too exciting and memorable for my village eyes.
Neat roads stretched endless, skyscrapers rose high
Conversing with clouds and touching the skies.
New York stood in ritzy splendour and hoary grandeur,
A gargantuan pile of steel and granite.
It stayed an enigma on the banks of Hudson,
Lulling the waves to sleep in the evening garish light.
I watched the cities through the eyes of someone
Encountering an amazing world for the first time
During our stay, we visited many iconic landmarks
Like Disney World and the Statue of Liberty, scenes sublime.
Walking down the streets of Fifth Avenue,
Eerie sights scurried past- Male and female-
Of all climes and continents, all ethnic denominations,
All shapes, sizes and colours, in hurried steps sail
The sight of doors opening by themselves,
In shops and even in houses was a real wonder.
For the first time, I watched machines talk and robots walk.
On escalators, stepped on so careful, not to commit any blunder.
We made a trip to the famous Niagara Falls as well
From which mist rose like incense- What a wonder!
As the falls cascaded down in violent fury, singing and dancing,
We stood speechless before that endless roar of thunder.
We stayed through the month of October
And we watched leaves turning yellow and crimson
What medley of colours, we could see everywhere
Such ravishing scenes, our hearts did imprison.
Before the onset of winter, we returned.
Though visited my brother in US twice later,
The wonder of the first journey still remains green
In the quiet chambers of my memory, ever after.
Another repetitious dream – 3
The outsider look in, from within / looking at
Dreams come alive during the morning hours,
long after most of the world – on this side of the sun –
has risen from the fading light of moons glow and dreams.
My dreams ride the steps of escalators from deep down,
where – from the darkened cracks of the subconscious –
voices speak – in riddles and rhymes – to the conscious
mind, during those sleepy hours where depression takes hold
and binds, ties one down - in the light of day - to their bed.
My dreams are telling me - as I see myself – I am involved
in what is portrayed upon the screens that lay on the backside
of my, closed, eye lids that hide from the outside world
a true view of my soul and all that is whispered in secret.
Phrases depicting – as I, in states of lucidity – watch the play
unfold – from my balcony chair – as I become the actor,
and in this, a one man play, I am all the parts of all the characters
that have danced, strutted, pranced, crawled before these eyes.
Eyes that catch the essence of the story but not the subplots,
nor the beginning, the middle, the end, or what lies between
the lines set within the heart of all the prose, poetry and rhymes.
And so, as the outsider looking in, looking at the insider
looking out, comes from within, is the script writer, the actor,
preforming all the parts, with all the nuances projected,
that awake, never comes to light, except in small flakes,
specks and flecks upon the mirror he hold, reflecting
the images of the child, the boy, the youth, the man, the aged.
The strange world of dreams !!!
B. J. “A ” 2
June 19th 2005
History is history drawn by observation to attract
Up and down motion
The thought of the old Dinosaur Escalators at Macy’s Herald Square
The old fossil’s still work
It gets Macy’s customers from selling floor to selling floor
They still work for sure
I know, I worked at the Macy’s Herald Square Tower for 38 Years on the 13th Floor of the Corporate Executive Office
Those old escalators were established since Macy’s Herald Square was built in brick and mortal
I can assure you I am not a fixture, and wasn’t around when Macy’s Herald Square was put together
Let’s just say I made history working for Macy’s, but I could be considered a Legend
However, I was around during the real MIRACLE ON 34th of the
MACY’S and GIMBEL’S era
The old escalators are still in effect and they have history of their own
No mystery
The old escalators are tour attractions to see in being accompanied in Macy’s Herald Square past and current of old and new.