4 Random Poems I Wrote During My Down Time at Work

I had a lot of down time at work today, so I used all that precious down time to write some poems. Here they are.

I. Rhapsody in Blue

Like everyone else, I am walking
Not walking, actually, but meandering.
I am getting lost in this big American Dream forest
Letting its skyscrapers swallow me whole
Like vultures leaning down to inspect
Examine, lick and devour the lone furry mouse before them.

When I hear the clarinetist warm up the Rhapsody in Blue
With his soaring introduction of seductive syncopations
Drunk with his own wonder and wine
I spin in a little circle
On the sidewalk, outside The Picasso
Its broad forehead curved into a long snout.
Like that of an anteater.
I stop before the statue as the clarinetist
Continues to slowly heat up the rhapsody
Toast it to a nice crispy golden brown
With its back-in-the-swing-of-things conclusion
And then I resume my choreography.

The sudden booms, tumbles and clashes of the percussion and
The rest of the orchestra startles my whole body
Into a passionate frenzy.
I jerk my head
I twist my body
I spin in a pirouette
My Converses hitting the pavement with each move.
As apathetic pigeons look on and search for breadcrumbs.

After thousands upon thousands of booms, ebbs and crashes
The piece settles into the sweet quiet
Lullaby of the pianist.
I drop quietly to the ground
Tumbling, falling, dancing down to Mother Earth
My body loosens and I loosen it
I stretch out, let the cold slab of concrete take me in
I let it force me to reflect on the calm clouds
That pose placidly in the sky, looking down on us mortals.
They are not busy like us city folk
They are just there to let us dreamers imagine
A more peaceful world, one of less hustle and bustle.

Then the orchestra soaks me with its honey of a love melody.
The piano soars in its harmonies
My shoulders roll and I slowly rise
Struggling to get up
Oh, the quiet moment of reflection has taken its toll
Putting me in a dormant state
I don't want to leave the ground
But alas, I rise to absorb myself
In the thick juicy love theme vat
Never let it die, this moment of reflection!
My face contorts
As my eyes wide shut enjoy
The soaking of the sun's rays upon my grateful eyelids.

I open my eyes
And admire the old
Deep-dish pizza parlor
As the solo piano delicately dances in a
Romantic scintillating monologue
Of long-lost memories, of lovers who stay in the heart
Of those who remember
I admire The Chicago Theatre
Unlit, dormant until the night falls
And its dazzling lights scintillate in the pools
Of fresh rain.

I see busy people rushing past me
On their way to work
I only work the night shift at Sally's Beer and Wine
So my day is free to wander and muse.
In rhythm with the busy ones
In rhythm with the rising crescendo of
the flurried orchestra
in rhythm with the pounding piano keys
in the key of e flat
rhythms trample me flat like an E key elephant

then the elephant stops its trampling and
makes way for a grand parade of triumph and pride.
in living color, the Technicolor scheme asserts
itself boldly, i spread my arms in one fell swoop
as the orchestra and the pianist crescendo
and then end with a sharp bang.
my face muscles spread
in a smile
of love for my city.

II. The Wound

We sit together 
Eating hot dogs
Full of crunchy fresh pickle relish
Spicy ocher mustard
And crimson ketchup
on that Brooklyn bench
After wandering round Central Park.

He looks at me for the longest time and just smiles.
A simple smile, no more, no less.
His long sandy hair breezing in the wind.
His green apple eyes bear through
my every thought
telling me i'm hiding something
even though i don't want to say what's on my mind.

he holds my hand, with its tarnished wedding ring
stained with blood
a ring i no longer care to think about
a ring of a love long gone
a divorce that still bears the scar of our rocky marriage
i let the tears flow calmly
i feel my body give little quakes off
as he continues to hold my hand
this gentle friend of mine
tells me that it's ok to not be ok

that everything is going to be fine
that i don't have to live with the hurt of divorce
this friend tells me in a whisper,
that i no longer need to wait on someone to please me
and i no longer have to please anyone but myself
that i can be free of the fetters of loneliness
and enjoy the placid silence that comes with solitude
solitude= juventud
juventud = youth in Spanish.

i let the hurt wash over me
and then i inhale, my lungs taking in the crisp fall air
and i let out a long sigh that shakes
letting go of years of pain, pleasure, destruction, emotional detachment
i let this friend curl his turtle-necked arms around my neck.
a neck that bears the burning flesh wound of emotional abuse
a wound that will take many months to heal from
a gash that bears my name, my namesake, his name, his namesake
i jokingly rub the tears into the wound at the back of my neck.

the tears are magic healing water
they are an elixir of salty and sweet
they gently kiss my broken wounds as i rub them gently on the scars
these tear kisses gently caress these screaming wounds
and calm them so their flames don't continue to lick my neck
even as this moment of sweet, sweet bliss
only lasts for some time
before i am once again back to tasting the sweet and salty
of fresh flowing tears

i wake up in my own bed
the friend has gone home
i sit and look up at the ceiling
my mind is no longer racing
and even though the demons of doubt will
in any second rear their ugly demonic heads of doom
my body dragged down
by the weight of emotional depletion.

the tears are dried like
a charcoal mask after it's done sitting on your face
on my puffy faces my eyes tired
from all the tears, the crying worked
my face muscles, my eye muscles,
every muscle that waged a war in my body, worn and dragged
beat and bruised

III. The Orange Peel

I sit alone at the kitchen table
And watch as the lonely waves crash
outside my window

i peel the sweet pulpy fruit
listening to the crisp squish of its flesh
as it peels back against the sour bitter
i admire the curled strips of fruity flesh
hanging off of the succulent sphere
in my sticky hands collects the sweet and sour juice

i take my fingers
and grasp onto a crescent moon
and peel the moon gently from its friends
goodbye, it says, my loves it was nice knowing you
i detach the lonely moon as it gives one last longing kiss
to the other crescent moons that nest alongside it
that try to latch themselves to it
like a magnet on a refrigerator

I embrace the pulpy mass with my fingers
honey running down my hand
the orange makes its slow descent
into the abyss of my stomach
i chew that flesh with the relish
of a food aficionado
sparks fly on the surface of my ridged tongue
sweet, salty, bitter, all of my lost memories
of picking oranges in the summer Texas sun
with my ex.
they no longer pick oranges with me
but they pick oranges with me in spirit
they enjoy the scrumptious sumptuous moment
of dining on this exquisite fruit with me.

The peels sit on the table
i let them have a moment of deep contemplative silence and dry out for a few days
in the sun so that i could make essential oils out of them
they sit, feeling used. torn apart by the violence
of my delicate yet impatient hands.
mangled by the hunger and passion of my taste in fruits
i tip-toe my fingers
to the middle of the table
and caress those delicate remains
of a round ripe healthy body
with a sticker certifying its livelihood
imported from Nicaragua.

IV. Deep

I am plunging into the deep
my body tingling with the summer air
i submerge myself into the ocean of my heart.
as i snorkel and swim
i dance rhythmically, mystically, blissfully
with dolphins who look at me curiously
as if I was an extraterrestrial

My pulse pumps life blood
into my body
as the oxygen leaves my lungs
and i slowly fall into a deep, deep unconsciousness

i feel a humanness
rescue me from the depths of the deep blue
it is alas you
and you came to rescue me
from that abyss.

i want to thank you
but my heart is full of grief
as i plunged into the ocean blue
the air on land
liberates me
from the shackles of shame
a blessing not a curse
pulls me from the dark dungeon
of my heart.

i retch.
my breath heavy
i struggle to breathe
the saltwater overwhelms my struggling lungs
then a torrent of saltwater and other contents
plunges from the depth of my being
my body convulses
rebels against the bitter sharp taste of vomit
that coats my entire mouth
in one grand gesture of bitter sweetness.

your hands warm my convulsing back
as i give up all the thrills, the ecstasy,
the laughs, the dances i shared with those dolphins and
the rest of the marine life.

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