Your City
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Seven Emerald Hills
Seven emerald hills rise steeply
From restless waters born of moving ice
Siblings of a greater peak
Lifting up their faces into rains of shrouded mists
Or bathed in welcomed sunshine
The First where stately mansion homes
Climbed to heights now holding healing hostels
Looking toward a Beacon,
Watching Rainier’s changing face,
Holding hands, across a valley cleft,
With the West where Alki shores
Welcomed the first footsteps of settlers
Looking across blue waters where ferries play at
Mistaken Magnolia blossoming with madrone
Not bowing to Queen Anne, counterbalanced,
Winking at Capitol, with shady streets
On a broad way above the lake
Looking north to find a learned Crown
Mourning Denny’s passing
Where offices now scrape the sky
Remembering a Yesler skid row, algorithms,
A pioneer square, a needle touching space
Slumbering in the shadows of a Sunset
Where seaplanes play with seagulls
In summer Seafairs and rain festivals January to December
Facebook?
~ Fake book
Tik-Tok?
~ Shock Jock
What’s App?
~ Jockstrap*
Meta?
~ Greta!
I-Pad?
~ Comrade
Flash Drive
~ Bee Hive
A.I?
~ Pig Sty
IT?
~ Dead Sea
TV?
~ Crappy!
Smartphone?
~ Hand bone
Laptop?
~ Sweatshop
~ For Low-Tech Lovers ~
Slinky?
~ Dinky
Play-dough?
~ Skid row
Juke box?
~ Plaid socks ~ Thanks, Buddy Holly... lol -- Crickets
___________________________
*Are you kidding me, gw?
Cantina Tina never met one meaner
Though she sure looked pretty as the night grew long;
And so did I, in the mirror of the john.
Bottom of the bottle is where the grass is greener.
A Skid Row guy with an eye for Pasadena;
Spend my nights between seventh and third
With old Jack D ’til the world is blurred.
Bottom of the bottle is where the grass is greener.
Out of County jail for a misdemeanor,
“No sir, Judge won’t be doing that no more;”
Hot foot it down to the nearest liquor store.
Bottom of the bottle is where the grass is greener.
Once had a girl, oh boy, you should have seen her
“It’s poker, pool, or me if you want me staying here:”
So yes, I went ahead and chose the boys and beer.
Bottom of the bottle is where the grass is greener.
So here I am, eyeing Cantina Tina
She’s sure looking pretty as the night grows long;
And so do I, in the mirror of the john.
Bottom of the bottle is where the grass is greener.
If my taste starts to fade, stick around I'm in style
Evergreen, Peppermint, did I just see you smile?
Chew my wad, blow a bubble
Be minty fresh on the double
I am gum, chew on that for a while
I please and abide like your loyal chum
Then you spit me out like a skid row bum
But chew me at your pleasure
I'm a tried-and-true treasure
I am comfort, I am delight, I am gum!
Coal face
disgrace
Bad vibes
from tribes
Dark art
at heart
Big deal
surreal
Uptight
yeah right
Sky high
my eye
Who knew
boohoo
My god
that’s odd
not half
a laugh
High five
alive
Stock phrase
daft craze
Buzz word
absurd
Smart tek
brain wreck
Sour pus
missed bus
High horse
off-course
Slow coach
cockroach
Big cheese
feels squeeze
Sore thumb
by gum
Hells bells
death knells
Fast lane
Insane
Bored stiff
with gif
Calm down
you clown
Joe soap
might cope
John dough
skid row
Jackpot
great scott
Long run
such fun
Clean sweep
knee deep
Bon mot
for show
Quick quip
takes dip
False dawn
a yawn
Created and posted : 10th October 2022 for Brian Strand contest
Horrific attributes
Calamities all around
Skid row broken dreams
Roughest atmosphere
A distorted ambiance
Hear the jeers of morbid souls
Sometimes, it's cloud formations.
At other times, a line of Fall trees.
Less often, a rising sun, but
Frequently, it's a setting sun.
Sometimes, it's simply being awe-struck by green grass;
Or being mesmerized by the beaming yellow of a cactus blossom;
Or realizing that hospitality is defined by two words that
follow a request for directions: "Follow me".
Sometimes, it's the thought of a kindness that provokes a tear.
Or recalling the first sighting of the Chicago 'skid-row' in 1967.
Or the smiling face of a homeless man at my dinner
table in San Francisco on Christmas day in 1985.
100622PSCtest, Captivation Poetry Contest.
Julia Ward
Our mayor and city council know what to do
The county supervisors and talk show hosts too
Budget measure HHH we Angelinos passed
Costing billions, homelessness would end at last
There were 57,000 unhoused in L.A. last year
Now it’s 68,000, growing with elections near
The garment district downtown and all of skid row
Are squalid tent camps where filth and despair flow
From the Valley, to Hollywood, out to the beach
Huddled in parks, under bridges, hills out of reach
Some scream and curse, drugged or drunken
Others silent and still, bodies broken, spirits sunken
They’re bad for business, they spread disease!
Will our elected officials do something? Please!
Neglected, abused, mentally ill
There’s really no urgent civic will
Some may receive disability pay
Enough for liquid comfort, but a room? No way
A lifelong Angelino, I feel enraged and defeated
For I see my town by how our worst off are treated
5/31/22
A pauper begs at the town gate
and sets, each day, a date with fate.
He harbours dreams where riches flow
but morning finds him on skid row.
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Killing With an Epigram Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Margarita Lillico
Placed 2nd
28th April, 2022
I'm wide awake, listening to the roar.
My musings become a glowing rainbow.
I lie pique designing vile dreams offshore.
I dream of an ominous sky shadow
Away from the ad nauseam skid row.
As political cases broach their peak.
To load airwaves with the rowdy prevail
Irritating and feeble header seek
While I slept, I grasped the heaven exhale
Moans were roundly rejected by the meek
Written: February 1st 2022
Mr. Seagull,
Have you seen Mr. and Mrs. Crow?
Oh my, I'm worried about them,
Where did they go?
The Ravens' answer,
"They didn’t say, we don't know.
Eviction dispelled them far away,
and with nothing to eat.
Nowhere to sleep,
and the last of the flock left for skid row.
Like the Byrd family, scattered.
They flew out of formation,
F.Y.I. they're beat, Broken.
In search of a new underpass.
A new city, such a pity.
Meandering, and struggling in tow.
To find shade in this scorching August heat.
Forced to move on and hide their pride.
Trying to begin once again,
A new start, an old low."
An idol thought ...
A pair of worn gym shoes was sold for $1.47 million
Those appraised, prized puppies
were formerly Space toe Jam possessed
by a famous athlete
Bet cha’ that wealthy person ain’t buying
a pair of used, musty sneakers
of skid row quality
A dumpster sale item,
which once belonged on the po’ feet
of a homeless, societal discard
That bum rubber smell
won’t Fido fetch
a fraction of the celeb garage sale price
It Scholl must-y be garbage nice
to be so stinkin’ rich
Getting good foot-to-fanny finance advice
Mmm Oblongata observation of the auction absurd
10-26-21
All the good old things replaced by the shiny new,
But when does shiny new become a has been?
Things of depth and things of worth trashed because you can.
It all looks so good now and you look so smug but time turns,
Shiny new city with sparkling towers will fade,
It's time will run, it's autumn will come,
Then back to skid row, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.
Resident Refugees…
Uprooted, abandoned and displaced;
scattered about in their own homeland—
Irrespective of gender, cultural or race,
the pursuit of happiness seems banned.
These are the ever-present invisible souls
whose living shadows flicker everywhere:
street corners, sidewalks, flag poles;
ignored as if they are not even there.
Not honored to be a vagabond or hobo;
nor a migrant in pursuit of the dream.
Each day of survival is a revolving skid row;
in the land of opportunity, life can be so mean.
As the sun shines from sea to sea in the land of the free,
homelessness is like being an un-caged nomadic refugee.
A song can trigger a memory,it can place me in time if just for three minutes.
Bon Jovi "Living on a Prayer"takes me to my sixth grade year.Me and two friends made up a dance and performed it at the end of the year for parents and students. I can still remember most of the dance.
In Junior high it was Skid Row"Youth gone Wild". Me and Lisa Green walked in the snow and 15 degrees out through town.Man it was so awesome!
And finally in High school The Judd's"Love can Build a Bridge". Me and Rachel sitting in my kitchen floor taking our parts.Such great times.
You see a song is a memory that time can not erase.As long as you can relive that moment in time just by listening to a song, you have an album of memories that just needs to be played every so often.
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