psyches of all bards and writers
synchronized crowd swimming in waters
yuppies and brave souls unheard by all
chanting audience in an imaginary stall
hearts we hide as words unfold
on paper and scrolls, always young never old
lasting ink or cellphone battery so strong
of thinkers and scribblers of prong
genetics of poetry or honed skill
your poetry in a song that inspires and fill
only the strong survives and remain
filaments of musing, project and pertain
poetic justice is justice for all
or no balance like a bouncing ball
ever and never will an artist to surrender or fall
triumphant in all writings, big or small
remnants of your undying soul
yours is the scepter and crown and tiara
like winner takes all
Berkeley Beckoning Me
I grew up
In Berkeley, California
In the early 70s
A wild and crazy time
Berkeley shaped my soul
And my heart will always
Long for my home land
Berkeley was always
A wild and zany place
Filled with original characters
Drawn to the city by the bay
The hills overlooking the city
The campus filled with students
The downtown shopping area
The suburban housing
The street people
The vendors on Telegraph
The smell of marijuana
Hanging in the air
Long before it was legal
In some ways
Berkeley seems stuck
In a time wrap
A certain corner
Seems to be forever
Stuck in 1969
The city has changed
Over the years
Like most places
It has become harder
And harder for the working class
To afford to live there
The yuppies took over
Decades ago
But despite that the city
Continues to be home
To a diverse population
Little India emerged
Along with Berkeley’s Chinatown
The old black neighborhoods
Still manages to somehow
Thrive amid the gentrification
And so as my life winds down
My thoughts keep returning
To my ancestral home
The homeland
Where I wish to die
Yup, here they come
hippies, yuppies, kiddies and Millenials, generation X on the run
they gather at the restaurants and malls
ten or twelve six feet apart walk along the walls
casually strolling pass the limited entry stores
no longer able to stay at home, so tired and so bored.
There's Old Joe and John, laughing as they wave their hands
to Sue and Lynn, Morgan and Zoe in the corner stand
masks upon their face, sauntering with grace
hoping to find a sale within this space,
but security is riding on their segway racers
courting those who appear displacers.
There are no flash mobs here
all the people hold back their fears
these once avid partygoers
are now streamlined floaters
longing, aching, wishful thinking of party times
when they all danced and drank alcoholic wines.
Main Street had a classic pool hall,
Hustlers, chisellers, and those who like to fool all,
Second-hand stores along the way,
And the old Helen's Grill greasy spoon café.
Now, Main Street's no longer the same;
Developers and yuppies have changed the game.
They say it’s all for common good,
But the oldsters miss their good old neighbourhood.
Being raised on gold
Makes silver seem like garbage
So make a change then.
The box car is full of noise
white and black owls hoo-ing in the night
midnight almost here
Dice being slammed
fifteen!fifteen!
College yuppies talkin' loud
too loud for my ears
Flocks of good looking gals
of all ages, golden blonde hair
Big wide eyes transparent
to anyone different, ignorance
is not Bliss!
Not in this case
too many peeople boarded
in the desert
There goes John Dillinger
with a bride and fire of flames
The cowboy sits quite
across the table
of liquid toxicity
and coffee grounds
Look into the pocket
new pair of seein' specs
Great Luck!
Observin' the crowd
in this box car ramblin'
from afar, yet sittin'
a foot away
A ghost among the fog
restless
in the heated square
of America, fall
fall America!
America Rise
Rise! Rise!
Saddle back shoes or shag if you please
Trends by the thousands, hair as big as you can tease
Yoga and Yo-Yo’s; Yuppies the majority of the crowd
Leggings and Levi’s; Colors vibrant and loud
Eyelashes as fake as the breast upon your chest
Styles they come and go as we try to look our best
Let's go shopping today
drive our fancy cars, smash guitars
as you listen to every word I say
Shopping malls all so crowded
teenage angst, as the innocent walk the planks
and ignore the rebel who's shouting
Crave a big mac
mustard and ketchup, no time to play make-up
how can I get my future back
I guess it's all for nothing
all our leaders nothing more that cheaters
never did anything, but atleast I said something
My father once fought for something yea
all we do now is argue, and misuse
but hey, I guess it was my idea
Who's shouting today
all the preppies, just the yuppies
who wave a flag of anti-gays
What's justice anyway
is it in their platform, making us conform
but I don't wanna play
in their game
Rebels use to burn yea
they use to mean something, when truth had a ring
but I guess it's all gone by the way
I can't complain
My father and I are still here
trying to bring some light, into this fight
to win equality away from fear
but that was yester-year
Just an empty streetcorner
cameras shy away, though we're here to stay
I guess it's back to south of the border
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