Black shoes

Boundaries on an emotional content are two parts nitroglycerin and 10 parts rage
hiding
the fuse from yourself and others so not to spark the start of ticking clocked
Enola Gay destruction in the wake of
nearby humanities lunch dates and conference calls about the next socially coerced life
Secret timers
Secret plastic detonators
Wrapped in worlds gazes of could have beens
and quick winks of the eye

Black shoes

Boundaries on emotional content are two parts nitroglycerin and 10 parts rage
hiding
the fuse from yourself and others so not to spark the start of ticking clocked
Enola Gay destruction in nearby humanities lunch dates and conference calls about the next socially coerced life
Secret timers
Secret plastic detonators
Wrapped in a gaze of could have beens 

Not in the movies

I come from an immigrant settled neighborhood. When Tammany hall and the NYC socialites were bored of the beach..the poor,the servants,the hiding ,and sick quickly established neighborhoods with their own people. The Irish settled with Spanish next door to Italians from Sicily. The slang paddy wagon could have easily been forged in these neighborhood streets.
Policeman and firemen became the norm along with hustlers,thieves,IRA, and crooks all in the same households.
It’s a story, it’s all true, and I’ve lived it everywhere this land was made for you and me

Numbers are fallable

Turn a feeling in as if it were an rental film to be dropped off into a hollowed out box of family friendly romantic thriller comedy
leave it
we can’t revisit the camera angles
no looking back fondly for the sountracked song that played during the opening pan shots
bring the books back to the library shelves for those chapters are already thumbed through and bent into old pages
we’ve picked new words
words that are the only sentences we can utter
the shapes of letters to be forgotten
subtracted from the new math

We all yell in key

Not everything can be stolen,robbed, nicked or foreclosed on
there are things you’re born to be even if not in your pocket but buried under whom you’re told you are
a vox populi inherent to the DNA of  every city and forgotten places
ask the street lights
the benches of bus stops
bar stools
and the cubicle jail chairs
the prose of born silent stories are there to be told
the daily commute knows the voices and all our woe worries embedded with the  knowledge of the unvoiced sounds of the people
an out of tune chorus we forgot the lyrics and back beat
it’s the lost song we all know
sing people
sing

To Whom it May Concern 2901

To Whom it May Concern,

Do you remember this as well I do,
some time ago.. well longer than that time ago but you’ll get it sooner as I go.There was the average New York lad selling his wares around the neighborhoods with the blessings both respectable groups,you know the guys who controlled these things think concernedHi heavy community members who had businesses.
Our young man here was liked in the all the boroughs of course he was handsome.charismatic and one hell of an athlete at least from I was told.A guy could make a good dollar channeling these talents into a lucrative sales position with great hours and the love of the ladies,right?
With all of that and blessings our boy became to do well for himself,the muscle boys gave him no static and things are were solid enough to start a home.So a little boy ran around the modest apartment as cash was not a problem,so it’s sorted no?
Of fucking course not this is my story I am telling and it’s New York know what I mean?
Some of these great sales now were a little too hot except not in the 66 Mustang sense but in the hot boilers of the good old Titanic .So this raised an eyebrow at the community board because they knew the warranties would be included in the colorful obituary columns.So worried the board that they give him a list of who not to let into his candy shop because their kids had sweet teeth,you know?He held good sale practice until he couldn’t anymore so of course you know what happens right?
They ran him over then backed over him ,ran over him then back over well you get the scene cause there is a few more back overs.There is a red light put there to stop speeding fathers from driving down their own salesmen who can sell their shotty shots to your kids but not theirs..

Liam

To Who it May Concern #229

To Whom it may or may even stumble into your yard,

So I laughed as butter knife would at the universe again as it glanced over with the look you give a snidey little fuck as he flips you the bird,I was not going to listen to anything that had to be
said
mumbled
or coarsely thrown in my direction
“We can not keep this affair going on much longer,it’s unhealthy for me mentally and taking it’s toll on my body”
Universe gazed at clouds and pretended I was speaking nonsense when in fact it was was proper gibberish of the
highest extent that I am well known for
“It’s a stalemate as of now and you can keep your relationship status as batshit complicated,I promise not to speak on it or you poorly..clearly you will win in the end.”
Orion’s belt lit up with the hope in her cosmos eyes knowing this was a soiid truth
“May brain runs rampant through you on a constant basis that we both know I can not shut off the revolving door of word riddled thought and I thank you for letting me to continue to do that”

Sorry,
That guy again

Ich lüge Bullets

After all these lives one thing remains glaring and residual but still unsaid by the circled masses
whispers hidden under breath warbled behind closed doors
pointing the finger at the others hands
fearful judgement
a climbing ape being weighted with blind grips of other lost dreams
craving burgers and everyone to be their way
all these lives revolve to this center core
the self diminishing self for the sake of a shiny smile
laughing as the child spares the rod to forget the muse
trying to remember just how the majority rules
caring eyes steering the barge of fools
anchoring lives to substandard stools
branding themselves king of the lunch hall
because it’s all one big primary school
all these lives frowned upon from closing doors with cackling open windows
always outside
cursing the horrible clashing drapes

Relatable non

Like all things,they just manifest when you least expect them..
pop up from a whack a troll hole,an hilarious pitfall as you land on your face
as you laugh at yourself
no boy scout training can prepare for that
no pocket knives or special knots
not even a fictional answer could possibly even hit the mark
a figment of words
something you could never picture any ever saying to you
Murphy;s Law?
No
That was my dogs name

Reader Meet Author #6

“So I hear your a poet as well as a hero,so what kind of poetry?” I was asked out of the blue..
I had no real answer so I blushed then mumbled out that just because I’m called a poet or hero does not really make me one
“So what do you write about then?” they pressed
Lately its been much rubbish about water and nonsense about an old pair of boots,I ordered another drink to fill some space that would hopefully change the topic
“Before all of this,what do you write about? Girls? Does it rhyme?”
Inhaling my pint I set the glass down,called for another and added I write about that..pointing to the empty glass
“Why can’t you just explain it to me?”  was asked with a quick puff of annoyance
My facial expressions usually give me away but it seems it was not being noticed by this point so after a sip of my drink,knocking it to a half  I let it fly..
I write a lot about being born broken hearted of sorts and seeing beauty in the dirt of this city
bad romantic notions of the world looking better most days through the bottom of an empty pint glass,a smoking streetlight as a muse
 feeling backwards in a forward falling universe of constant turbulant anxiety
a laugh in the rainy doorway on avenue A
 people squarely questioning round feelings and words for the sake of words
“Umm ok,and people like this?”..”I guess I will take your word for it”
I finished my pint
told her to look me up
and thanked her for the poem that she just wrote