We wake to brew a bitter, roasted bean,
And stare into the screen’s alluring glow,
To curate lives that look so sleek and clean,
For all the gaping void we never show.
The traffic beckons with a crimson glare,
A metal sea where everyone is late,
We mutter curses in the smoggy air,
And quietly embrace our daily fate.
We draft the endless emails with a grin,
And swear we love the grind of nine-to-five,
While hiding all our quiet panic in,
Just to pretend that we are quite alive.
Then midnight strikes, the day is done at last,
We close our eyes and let the worries spin,
Regretting every blunder of the past,
And wait to do it all again, begin.
It was all about a grim,
Foggy, smoggy, old Thursday night
In Hithergreen,
London’s belching south,
Below Europe’s icy, dark trees and
In the silence of grieving mornings . . .
Bulbous clouds bleeding with strained oomph
Would stir the ingravescence of patented ills.
The trains always come railing!
Railing loud and silly
Like heathen bandits with no shame.
But before such mornings,
A half-distilled liquored, low-brewed
Evening caused me tears
When I chopped onions.
A spruced up harlot was coming to dinner
By the way!
Oh, yes, from London’s bleached Soho,
Venue for awesome sex.
I may have forgotten to tell you, brother,
But through the insistence on cutting further deep,
There it stood!
Ilse Koch!
An old character!
She piled up arms against ashen flesh,
Fomenting tears to rain down on the faces of many.
And with each stare,
I asked for permission to be laconic
Just to preserve the dews
Of the heated stove near the chimney of an
Age-battered window of a grey, frazzled winter night.
Lumbar ladies stroll by as the night sedans plunder the ho-dad hostels.
Looking to find nothing except another dozing cigarette beyond the cadenzas.
Another hot afternoon in suburbia with the repeated barkings of a distant dog.
Billy boy in his red asphalt-eating machine turns the dial to San Bernardino.
There is cool music bobbing in the hot accepting winds, south of Dragons Head.
In smoggy Corona, the dizzy Volkswagens travel in circles like demented dogs.
Billy boy guns the engine as he and the Mexican chick cruise in a ’67 beetle.
They pass the Chuck Wagon, as Slim Harpo melts the sun with Little Liza Jane.
Traffic signals, and the elderberry trees, pretend to dance to the muted cadences.
The hot afternoon winds play their own love-games as Billy boy comes to a stop.
Brown-eyed señorita with long hair flowing tells Billy boy to turn up the sound.
‘Music is life,’ she says, as the red asphalt-eating machine turns left at 6th Street.
Lumbar ladies stroll by now as the night sedans receive the night’s embrace.
At City Park, Billy and his latin lady sleep soundly in the cottonwood darkness.
I'll write you all a recipe,
For peace and harmony,
Be content in your own company,
Worse things than single, you see,
Smile at happy memories,
We'll bake peace cakes for thee,
Take some kindness and unity.
Stir with love and amity,
Sprinkle with divine grace,
Cook, serve to each human face,
With a trillion trees to hug,
Less of this smoggy fug,
Folks, do not give up the ghost,
Universe sends blessings the most,
Enjoy your prime today,
Peace fill find its way!
Smiles for all of you,
That's my recipe, over to you!
Written: December 25, 2023
___________________________________
The phone did ring; can you hear?
Pillowing loss cursed by fear.
Drowning in distraught remorse,
Smoggy how we fell off course.
Once saffron shades burnt our path,
now murky vines choke with wrath.
days and nights drudge on insane,
Black cherry cold fills the veins.
WINTER SONATA
We were in sweet honeymoon trip
in a rural area untouched by tourist.
Winter entered with utmost windy breeze
Smoggy ambient covered in cloudy canopy.
Low luminous shimmering Sun hiding itself
in misty dusty sky.
Dawn dew drops dazzling like diamond
on glossy glass blades and leaf lamina
greeted us at entrance path.
Our lavender love rolled, rippled on snowy splendor
in calm cold chilly wonder.
Icicles hanging from roof of our room.
On background shown mountain with snow cap.
Severe Winter felt guilt as we quivered even under quilt,
Ardent amour strongly desired for warmth .
Spent charming night, embraced tight in cozy sojourn.
In my distant childhood
we raced small coracles,
formed from walnut shells;
down rivulets in gutters
of our smoggy streets.
In that lonely room on the third floor
overlooking the town of Everett,
a town on the outskirts of Boston,
I fell asleep while murmuring a prayer
dreaming of mom through many a night;
in those dreams distance
became an absence,
a devoted brother and son
longing for mother and sisters...
cried remembering their sweetness!
In that lonely room on the third floor,
I wrote long letters with emotional words...
telling mom I wanted to desperately come home;
and that room was a prison filled with horror
and not getting enough rest, I hid under the linen sheets
fearing ghosts and listening to their horrendous sounds:
what I left was the ideal home,
where I could feel motherly love!
In that lonely room
shut to smoggy air that clogged my lungs,
nights had no glittering stars,
only cloudy and bleak skies...
sulkier than absurd thoughts
crossing a youngster's mind;
did I deserve solitude,
loneliness and gloom?
What was the purpose to seclude
myself and miss someone's human touch?
All those years were extremely tough
without a comforting hand
touching mine and assuring me I was loved!
She swirled her gases in the prettiest way
Appearing smoky and smoggy, like a ball of ice
The sky lit up at as it watched her go,
Vibrant robe trailing in a flourish of stars
No one made an exit like Luna,
I taught her that whispered an entity unseen
I scoffed at Zeus’s audacity
city
smoggy crowded
living moving dancing
a frenzied crazy excitement
city
COLD WINTER BLUES
Cold winter blues pasted on hazy firmament.
On snow Sunrays dazzle in aqua glow.
Luster of Autumn shadowed by foggy panorama.
Dewdrops at dawn shine as sapphires on glass blades.
Winter ice glistens nice on splendid show.
Icebergs hidden or open threatens vessels on ocean.
Numbness sensation to hold snowballs in fun.
Terrible frosty weather brings Jolly Jack Frost.
Enters winter with utmost snowy effort.
Reindeer pulls sledge of Santa Claus on slippery snow.
Bucolic site and cityscape covered in cloudy canopy.
Low luminous Sun hides itself in misty dusty sky.
Under drizzling snow couple stepping tiptoe.
Embraced tight, pressed lips not to chatter.
Smoggy ambient as cold winter blues in view.
10/ 06/20
Second Place
'Pick a Title Vol.23 Seasonal Acrostic' Contest by Edward Ibeh
'Completely Your Choice (39) Contest by Brian Strand
Through disaster she stops her pining
There may just be a silver lining
Her lifeblood no longer quickly drains
From her old and deep and weary veins
No longer does it hurt to breathe
No smoggy air to make her wheeze
Regaining sight and through the tears
She hadn’t seen the stars for years
Skin once wrinkled begins to heal
And younger she begins to feel
For a while, she thinks, it will be easier
As Mother Nature sits and takes a breather…
draped zeal dripped
smoggy crest clipped
callous crest squashed
training taunted trance
felon feelings fiery
licking lanky crisp
punctured passion pressed
met mystic press
moaning pressed' press
haughty zeal hankered
sane seal smothered
voluptuous veil angered
porous pasts absorbed
moaning memories' throb.
'20:03:14:11:26
Note: Dedicated to Socrates.
bounty body blushing
heaving hoisted hankering
under tainted touch
callous harmattan clutched
felon feelings fostering
damped desires drooling
smoggy soles scrunching
gaunt hands groaning
laced lips whitening
la-de-da limbs lurching
voluptuous treachery vying
indifferent services squashing
damped faces drying
nocturnal nature smirking.
20:01:04:11:17
~Note~ Dedicated to this crazy harmattan.
They made a pile of yellow leaves and burnt them...
They thought they were dead...
But
why did you do this to hearts?....
Beijing is becoming smoggy
You may taste blood in the air...
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