Long Los angeles Poems
Long Los angeles Poems. Below are the most popular long Los angeles by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Los angeles poems by poem length and keyword.
How the police acted was a terrible thing
to that unsuspecting citizen named Rodney King.
What they did on that video was definitely not right.
I don’t blame you for getting up to fight.
This incident has caused rioting through the night.
Well, we are no strangers to states of war.
My family had to endure it some two generations before.
They all went through a living hell
when those communists crossed the thirty-eighth parallel.
After the fighting stopped, they left Seoul, Korea.
My mother and father settled down here in America.
They opened a store right here in Los Angeles.
We have been living decently because of this.
If you try to loot my store, I give you fair warning.
We will defend our property all night until morning.
Attempt it, and your soul will be bound for heaven.
I will give you a taste of my Magnum three fifty-seven.
We can take care of ourselves. It won’t be hard
There is no need for the police or National Guard.
Do you know what we can do to any foolish lummox?
We can have you shipped to Pyongyang in a pine box.
City across the water, night by violet aurora
Los Angeles, we're further south than I thought (than we should be)
I take a strewn-bark trail to get a better view
Hand me the camera, Polaroids in quick succession (when is this?)
It's not quite capturing it, never the depth of field we need
Daybreak (remembering, there's no bay in LA)
Scores of Chinese workers emerge from pores in pagodas
Hauling, cleaning, young mean men, old pig-tailed women, children too small to see clearly
Faces are rusty, resolutely worn
I can zoom in but can't get there from here
Night again, back on the trail
A man appears from the palm brush behind
Could pass for a 1930s Okie hobo; faded salmon shirt, crushed felt hat
Something in his beard
He just wants to feel the lights and see the palms
Gunshots, on my side of the water
Okie flees, I hear whispers, overlapping
This is good stuff, though unnerving
I should be writing this down
Ushered from the scene, to somewhere I didn't expect to be
We have been trying to sell my mother-in-law’s house for fifteen years.
She always wanted us to fall in love with it and move into it.
We both knew this would never happen.
It is in smal town USA – no jobs, no life, and no excitement.
A town where people move out, not in.
We are city people.
We have lived in Chicago, Los Angeles, and now Kansas City.
We have tried to sell this house for fifteen years.
On time, because it is the only way to do it there
Where almost every other house is for sale.
People have steadily left there for the last forty years.
So far, six families have paid-to-own this house.
We have a manager there.
He keeps an eye on things for us.
We live three and a half hours away.
Four if we stop to go to the bathroom or grab a sandwich.
Some of these rent-to-own people have paid three to four years.
They still move out.
This last prospect has been the most promising yet.
We thought her bank loan for balance would happen in June.
We were told possibly June 30th.
By July 15th I told my husband “You mom does not want it sold.
She also is probably keeping the money until your birthday.”
Today is his birthday.
We just left the bank, after notarizing some paperwork.
This same rent-to-owner is possibly getting the bank loan this time.
I have to smile.
Knowing my mother-in-law may keep this money away from us until Christmas.
She loves giving her only child presents on special occasions.
As the story goes
The stomach of hunger wants a feed
It was a cross country Hound bus journey
The Greyhound bus gateway a vacation entry way
Through the scenery of highways and mountains
It was a stop at the EVERTON DINER in Everton, Wyoming
A lunch stop our Greyhound bus made
Upon entering nothing but a small town
You didn’t see any town’s people walking around
The owner of the Diner stated that he had limited Food as many Greyhound buses that made stops cleaned him out
I was hungry
The owner only had one hamburger left and nothing else
Fortunately, I got the only hamburger
However, there were flies all around, and the owner kept squatting flies with his squatter
The Owner was turning me off in getting the burger but I had to eat
Our Greyhound Bus Motor Coach Engineer announced as we should eat now as there will be a clean stretch with nothing for miles until we reach Salt Lake City, Utah
The driver was right all highway and mountains with no rest stops nor any eateries
Open road stretch
We arrived into SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH that night
Everton Diner I will never forget
Just wished he had food of variety is my only regret
That diner was a Greyhound bus oasis
My final destination was Los Angeles, Ca
Everton Diner forever remembered.
Anti-Poem — “Baxter Street Monday”
me trudging walking
gripping onward forward
traipsing baxter street monday
and its steep inclines
going up like a dizzy sparrow
passing vertical merry go rounds
the sly moulin rouge turnabouts
that sip spit with maraschino endives
scanning thighs ripe with hard-ons
the stoner pink boys
lost in rainbow cul-de-sacs
lost amidst the traffic tirades
the propelling grind of accelerators
up up and onward everlasting
floating hovering over shy ascensions
in ravenous echo park
me scratching grinding like steel death
holding tight the skin wheel
trudging baxter street monday
the morning reality suspensions
the daily cyclotron of kidney exertions
of ascending footsteps moving skinward
now racing down baxter street monday
descending and plummeting
passing vertical merry go rounds
the sly moulin rouge turnabouts
i see my sista rosa gonzalez
she be screaming down with wet wings
sending love bouquets to my los angeles
In the Spanish language, it means “The Meadows”.
To this desert oasis, many a gambler goes.
There are hotels with restaurants and fabulous shows.
However, the biggest attraction is the casinos.
They drive from as far as Los Angeles and San Diego.
Plenty of cash is dumped in each casino.
With no more money, gamblers cannot roam.
There is no other place to go but home.
The one thing to do is to depart this scene.
Unfortunately, they need a tank of gasoline.
Filling stations have strange inventories of stock.
Penniless victims go there to pawn and hock.
There are watches, cameras, and diamond rings.
They have loads of gold jewelry and other things.
In the near future, these visitors will return.
History will repeat as if they will not learn.
Though her life span was less than a week,
The Pink Lady of Malibu was a glorious sight,
Never to be forgotten by anyone who was lucky enough to see her
The daring escapade spanned six months
Timing her final foray on the cliff to coincide with the full moon
On October 31st, 1966, seemingly overnight
there appeared on the sheer cliff wall
above the Malibu Canyon tunnel
a 60-foot-tall painting of a nude woman
gamboling freely with her black hair flowing behind her
and a fistful of yellow lilies
No one knew who had created this guerrilla artwork
but scandalized Los Angeles County officials
Fearing traffic congestion and looky-loo accidents
They had decided she couldn't stay
House paint and a giant stencil to accomplish the artwork
The paint had soaked into the porous rock
Finding it impossible to remove her
The county ended up covering the Pink Lady in beige paint
THE 2014 STANLEY CUP FINAL
The grand stage. The big dance on the ice.
Two teams have overcome against their competitors
To try and conquer the ultimate prize...
The prestigious and coveted Stanley Cup
The New York Rangers have led the way over their rivals
And the Los Angeles Kings have overthrown their enemies
The Rangers will try to go all the way
To claim the long-awaited cup, two decades since 1994
However, the Kings will try to battle
To reclaim their lost crown jewel, once theirs back in 2012
Who will rise to the occasion?
Who will be the one to raise the cup?
The 2014 Stanley Cup Final.
THE FINAL BATTLE HAS JUST BEGUN!
Lula Pickering
1887 – 1906
Have you seen my bluebirds today?
Have you fed them a few crumbs of stale rye bread?
I must have taken a hundred walks as a young girl
In search of my freewheeling friends.
And with only my slender shadow at my side,
I recited a million silent invocations to my Lord.
I greeted the noon tide on those many happy occasions
As if in flight myself.
And my only friends,
Regaled in flying blazing blue,
Flew with me to fantastic heights
And I kissed the rising sun a hundred times
But received not even a smiling sigh in return.
And it was in Black Canyon
That I discovered the one true answer to my only question in life.
I discovered that love is a clinging cloud
That arrives and sometimes lingers.
Or it is a cloud that moves on quickly
Like a late train to Los Angeles in 1904
Leaving only a faint wisp of windy dust in its wake.
Roscoe Settle was that cloud;
A cloud at once full of light and rare beauty.
A cloud that stood still and refused to wink or budge.
But I gave Roscoe Settle my pursed lips
And like a silly infatuated fool
I gave him the hidden treasure within my bosom.
God knows that I pleaded and begged like a panhandling maniac
For my handsome boy to stay.
To stay forever with me in this town of sensational sunsets
And of soaring spiraling bluebirds
In search of a lonely jilted girl
Who now walks as an ethereal restless ghost
Amongst the crosses and stone lilacs of this dead land.
Only my parents knew of my untimely demise.
Only the sheriff and Mr. White knew that I took my own life.
And that I ended my life over Roscoe Settle.
I found the old rope in my father’s barn
And the last thing I remember
Was the quick snap of the rope
And of my soft svelte neck
As I threw myself,
Noosed and sad
From my father’s hay loft
On a moonless August evening.
What a year – Tim was just a little boy of 25 – naïve and
Lost in ‘innocence’ a critical time bomb waiting to happen
Blue-eyed he listened to Nena’s 99 Red Balloons flying high
While Band Aid wondered whether They Know it’s Christmas
Sticking plaster for an ignorant conscience
Plasters cast for broken souls and hunger
Summer Olympics in Los Angeles the world disunited
As the Soviet Union boycotted the Festival of Youth
Hollywood and Universal Studios Footloose competed
With The Killing Fields for consumption and Oscars
Dancing in full view of the Apocalypse
Khmer Rouge and Holding Out for a Hero
Miner’s Strike in Great Britain with Margaret Thatcher’s
Heavy handbag crushing legitimate opposition’s pickets
Reagan became ‘acting’ president and Space Shuttle discovered
That we have only have one lonely planet so we must muck it up
Cold War awaited nuclear freeze and
Hiroshima was declared a minor aberration
Metallica roared Blitzkrieg inferno and Armageddon
Iraq fought Iran and guess who was supporting whom
The US supplied Saddam Hussein with poison gas while
In Afghanistan they supported Taliban and Mujahedeen
‘The enemy of our foe is our good friend’
Coalitions must change freely in axes of evil
George Orwell comes to mind with Eurasia Oceania and
Eastasia altering alliances but then history must be forbidden
It can mislead young minds and wars have to be waged
For the sake of gory glory and self-righteous delight
Who reads books anyway and why and for what
They might seduce us to hail love and compassion
In 1984 Tim longed for flowers in hair scribbled Peace signs
On flare bottom jeans 20 years past The Sound of Silence
Had not mustered the courage yet to challenge the inevitable
Collusion of his inactivity with happy murder for money and oil
Slowly though he finds his belligerent voice and
Concludes that the 80’s offer more than nostalgia