I need to read Orwell again.

My thoughts in Newspeak.

Redyellow skyball
Heats me.
Greengreen floor
Fun to lie on.
Bluewhite sky
Easy to inhale.
Supersquishy Frisbee
Very unthrowable.
Shoeless feet
Hard to run in.
Guitarnoise
Is plusgood.
Long live
Airstrip One!
There is no
Unpeace here.
Responsibleless days
Are doublegood,
Freedom
Doubleplusgood.

My much longer reworking of my somewhat epic poem about Philadelphia

Lines Composed A Few Miles Above Rittenhouse Square, On Revisiting Central Philadelphia During A Tour, March 3rd 2007

Five days have passed, one hundred and twenty
Long hours, and many Starbucks Ventis,
Since I have heard the bustling city’s roar –
A clamour which all can say they adore –
And since I have ambled these streets with you;
And you, just as struck as I, with the view.

Philadelphia! The word like a bell,
Rings, crack’d, like the Liberty, when it fell –
I will not say that it subtracts beauty
But adds some countervailing duty
To a city that had long been flagging.
So we ventured off, with no feet dragging.

Advent’rous impulses took us West to
East, across the Schuylkill, dark and askew’d,
Along South Street, that mysterious place,
Which vermin and indies alike embrace.
Soon enough we arrived at Penn’s Landing,
Where the pioneer first stood commanding:

Camden, New Jersey; what a sight to see!
We decided to turn round quite promptly.
In the Old City, life is endearing,
In a way that is now disappearing –
As such, I reveled in what was around
Taking in everything above ground.

The window shutters were generally
Where my eyes were, most venerably,
The red bricks seemed both in and out of place;
I spoke a lot, trying not to lose face,
And keep the brogue-breeded blisters at bay,
By so many independent cafes.

My choice of footwear was far outweighed by
My newfound walking-partner-cum-ally,
I thought to myself, whilst strolling along
Spruce Street, avoiding drunken nighttime throngs.
With the Delaware River at our backs,
We headed homewards, making willful tracks.

Amongst skyscrapers and townhouses we pass’d;
In a city somehow both small and vast,
One can lose themselves in conversation,
O how oft this has been my temptation!
Broken pavements seem irrelevant when
I can be enthralled here time and again.


Your townhouses are unsurpassable –
In these fifty states it’s impossible
To find houses matching Tuscan vineyards,
More than those the statue of William guards,
As he stands proudly on top of Town Hall,
Easily seen and admir’d by all.

One Liberty Place, that bluish beacon
Of hope against those who try to weaken
This fair city’s great past, stands intently
To my right, I saw incidentally,
Whilst traversing Broad Street. I darted by
Rittenhouse Square, hushed by the night sky.

My mind rests there still, ‘mongst serene grandeur,
Allowing me to be the raconteur
Of our travels through this epic city
A place understated when called pretty –
Its streets inspire me like naught other’s,
Where you truly feel the love of brothers.

We cross’d that Dutch hidden-creek river, back
Back to the Western side of the train tracks,
Greeted by Franklin Field and Houston Hall,
As gorgeous and stifling as a lace pall –
The vitality we had been given
Had, by this point, from us wholly been driv’n.

And so our trip came to its conclusion,
Clearing the air of any confusion
Asked by my partner: “What is, wonder,
The best city on the Northeast Corridor?”
One could say, now, that the answer was clear,
The Quaker City was what we held dear.

This Commonwealth has been served so well
By Philadelphia and those who dell
Within its invisibly fortressed walls,
And in Benjamin Franklin’s hallowed halls –
It is a gateway to a great heartland
Over which, in truth, it doth have command.

O most sylvan of all sovereign states!
On you all my affection concentrates.
With pleasure, I travers’d your capital,
Which should have remained our one Capitol;
Regardless of crack-dealers and drive-bys,
There's a beauty we can all abide by.

Some prose poems

Steely Americana

I come from Gary, IN. This is where the redwood smokestacks combine with the russet soil to create the heartland. Rusting John Deere tractors are set aside bloodied grass; we’re a bit behind on general upkeep, but we have an airport now. Steel is where it’s at; we have America covered – no need to look overseas, when there’s a goldmine of iron being dug up here. If it weren’t for us, the Sears Tower would be wooden. Morgan Freeman moved here under his on volition. We even birthed the Jackson 5 – can you beat that?




Psalm 23a

As I walk through the shadow of the valley of meth, West Philadelphia smells bad. Though I fear no evil, for you are with me, Allied Security guard; your bike and walkie-talkie protect me. A table has been prepared for me at Qdoba, in the presence of many frat boys; a cook anoints my tacos with much oil; my soda cup runneth over, but is denied a free refill.

A List of Things Seen Upon Exiting the Tunnel Out of New York City On NJ Transit

What I See:

A sea of blonde weeds, adjacent to

A forest of burnt trees

Waves of freight trucks

A cliff of apartment blocks

Peaks of NYC

Redwood smokestacked-factories

Standing water

The longest, blackest Erector-Set bridge

Hills of transcontinental storage containers

MODERN LANDSCAPES!

A Few Lines Composed Above Rittenhouse Square, On Revisiting Central Philadelphia During A Tour, March 3rd, 2007.

The window shutters were generally
Where my eyes were, most venerably,
The red bricks seemed both in and out of place;
I spoke a lot, trying not to lose face,
And keep the brogue-breeded blisters at bay,
By so many independent cafes.

O most sylvan of all sovereign states!
On you all my affection concentrates.
With pleasure, I traverse your capital,
Which should have remained our one Capitol;
Regardless of crack-dealers and drive-bys,
There's a beauty we can all abide by.


-------

I was never much of an epic writer.