Category Archives: NY

Rhyming Review: •The Gargoyle Hunters•


New York’s mood during metamorphosis
The “now” seems particularly cruel
Thus •The Gargoyle Hunters• will begin us
(This is today’s true literary jewel)

The meditations on what New York means
Complete with adolescent adventures
Of a free-range private school nerdy teen
All of which brought back my teen-aged culture

The relegated and crazy mother:
In an informal commune of borders
& the dashing obsessive father
Scavenging & barking out orders

A family painted on black velvet
Of private middle school dilemmas
Puberty and thievery’s strange couplet
Trapping our young Griffin in its clutches

Seeking approval & confederates
A scandalous collaboration’s made
Of two romantic thieving delegates
Who predate architecture’s colonnade

The father’s long term goal, disrupt the son’s
Immature middle school romances though
(But they do infect all the grown up ones)
It turns out we become the man we know

Iconoclastic rev’rence for icons
Is their spiral staircase of DNA
Though their collections give New York lesions
Their compulsions they cannot deny
Personalities’ personal suburbs
Those individuals on the outskirts
Of the mover’s & the shaker’s worlds
Are unfortunately too often hurt

The workers became shock troop of dreams
Marching right across convention’s front lines
To achieve the goals that the dreamer schemes
Little men enabling grand designs

In the end the dream is the loyalty
An all encompassing fidelity
That will become middle-aged pleasantries
Wrapped in older people’s sweet vagaries

Endless Sonnet

  

Each wave is identical

Also completely unique

Repetition: practical

Their differences oblique
Each person watching waves

Is completely different

But like banister staves

Cooperate in bent

I sit by the river

Of autos driving by

Observing, I wonder

If there’s a reason why

Why do I consider

The altar of nature?

Morning Sonnet 8-10-15

  
The morning arrives, an un welcomed guest

Demanding attention, telling stories

Into their conflicts & feuds you are thrust

Each dawn brings you it’s own set of worries
The world never needs to know my feelings

My opinions of people’s shortcomings 

Do not need to infect all my dealings

& interfere with my life’s smooth runnings
Tolerating existence’s problems

And leaning from difficulties’ drama

Builds immunity, a special nostrum

That makes me just like the Dali Lama
I accept all the dawn’s difficulties

The tolerance that they build makes me free

Nothing Sonnet (6)



Nothing really matters

Though we insist things do

History just occurs

Though we don’t think it through

Exist & continue

Struggle or surrender

We can’t change the venue

We live in life’s plunder

The things that anger us:

That which we choose to care 

Just become cancerous

Have no more heft than air

So remember nothing

Will your life improving 

Abyss Sonnet



Into these temporary abysses

Merrily we fling our bodies & souls

As if this misery would dismiss us

From human’s* self-imposed soul sucking holes

The deeper we venture exploration 

The more absence and nothingness we find

The harder it is to play our station

And dream of some mortal human justice

We find within existence’s vortex

Only artifacts of our endurance:

Despair’s abysses will stun the cortex

& synthesize spiritual assurance

Don’t seek the abyss of nothingness yet

Life, humbly-well-lived, will better get

Old Photos Sonnet



Old photos are fountains of youth

Capturing happy memories 

Keeping our histories as truth

The past is kept: caged canaries

Fading images we look at

Strongly remind us of those times

When we made choices: no regrets!

(Decision-less times are “life-prime”)

Awkward pose & outdated clothes

(Compensated for with smooth skin)

Emphasize happiness youth knows

(That search for original sins)

Treasure all those old photographs

They can keep you laughing youth’s laughs

Exotic Queens



Working class Queens is as exotic

As Tibet, Samarkand or Guyana

But to see it’s a trip quixotic

You leave New York for this nirvana

New York fled Manhattan years ago

The place anyone could live is gone

To the outer boroughs we did flow

From the wave of wealth we fled anon

While Brooklyn has the wealthy virus

Queens remains open territory

Un conquered by 1%’s Cyrus

All nations are in inventory

Most of Queens remains ungentrified

Because here neighborhoods never died