From the Empire State Building to the Golden Gate BridgeA Poem by Luke Ritta An EPIC poem about America, from its landscape to its life in the 21st century.
From the Empire State Building to the Golden Gate Bridge (An odyssey into the soul of modern America) O America! From Walt Whitman to Allen Ginsberg. O America! From The Empire State Building to The Golden Gate Bridge A Joshua tree stands erect at dusk. A pumpkin pie is left on a widow ledge to cool off. A husband returns home after a day at work to be welcomed by his loving family. Moby Dick and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn is read in moonlight. The American dream. A man dies in a park of a drug overdoes. An old women from Atlanta Georgia has her right leg cut off as she can’t afford the operation to save it. a lonely sad hobo sits under a cold overpass thinking about his life Last Exit to Brooklyn and the Grapes of Wrath is read at dawn. The American nightmare. * I land on the tarmac of the country who owns the world. Wow! Is all I can say. Wow! This is the nation that has shaped modern society. New York! The rain drops fall onto my Shoulders like bombs Falling on Dresden. The city that never sleeps! I am asleep after six cans of Beer. Why! Why! I hear you ask. The Answer to this and to a lot more Questions is Six cans. Bones, skin, pain! Legs, feet, toes, pain! I walk and walk around the capital of this once great super power. O the pain! I look at Lincoln; he looks at me, we both Stroke are beards and I whish I had a pair of new shoes. The dog rolls on and on, and on. The rolling dog Of my dreams. The greyhound is my home, lover, friend, partner, cinema screen and my ride. 52 seats, 52 humans, 104 beating hearts from 50 amazing states. A morning red sun shines over still rivers like a painting from Monet. Stunning trees, old and new stand in black silhouette against the sun like a photo from Ansel Adams. New Hampshire! New England! Maine! And a bowl of steaming clam chowder. Pain in the neck after sleeping for one hour and twenty two seconds. Legs are stiff like roman soldiers and I now whish I could get off the rolling dog and have a cup of Joe. O America! From Walt Whitman to Allen Ginsberg. O America! From The Empire State Building to The Golden Gate Bridge 10 hours have passed by in a haze of loneliness. I am as lonely as a man on death row. I am in the deep south.
I wait for a ride, a horse, a car, a plane…..No! A bus. As I wait I see a golden, skinny stray cat walk past me and my heart hurts like a silver bullet has just pierced it.. I say_______? There is no word that describes what I am feeling. William Faulkner Stands Next to me and sighs. Society! please do me a favourer and use a condom! People! People! People everywhere. Form the Sperm of a Greek philosopher to the youth of the 21st century. God help us! I look around at the youth. It has finally happened. We have come full circle. I cant believe it! We have Gone back to the time of the cavemen. Groups of boys and girls stand around and talk, act and stand like the first ever man did. They would Rather shoot someone at dusk, instead of reading a book underneath a peach tree at dawn. Please use a condom. O America! From Walt Whitman to Allen Ginsberg. O America! From The Empire State Building to The Golden Gate Bridge Succulent chicken or a rubbery old bird? Freshly stone baked bread or salty sponge? Strong, mature full flavoured cheese or processed chemical slices? 24 months old cured meat or animals innards mixed with salt and water? Europe or America? Europe or America? Taos in the morning, eating a spicy bowl of black bean soup. Taos in the afternoon talking about philosophy to the locales. Taos At night, eating a Yak burger under a cover of stars with Dennis Hopper and Jack Nicholson Over stunning Taos in the desolate sky, Imprinted on the Clouds is the Face of D.H. Lawrence. Oklahoma, Wyoming, Idaho. The rolling dog at night. The black rivers twinkle Form the lights of the factories. I get board looking at a field of barley so I set back and start to read my book ‘Travels with charley’ I then see Benjamin Franklin Playing baseball with George Washington, Franklin whacks the ball, The ball fly’s through the night like so many convicts on the run, and then it is caught in the hands of Barack Obama. I then wake up from this dream, I put on my MP3 and for the rest of the night I listen to Jim Morrison and Johnny Cash. Amen. Bubbly, fizzy and as dark as the sand at Omaha beach in 1944. Root beer! It might smell of the dentist, but I Love it. Seattle, Denver, Portland, Arizona, beef jerky at sunrise, eggs and bacon next to the grand canyon, red wine next to Bukowskis grave, tears Over Jack kerouacs Death bed. American Television! O the bombardments of commodities in this land. The T.V. talks To you, loves you and defiantly lies to your face. You Get told you are going to die, get divorced, get cancer Get robbed. So what do you do? You Buy! Buy! Buy! It talks down to You like you’re a child, what to do? Buy! Buy! Buy! With out Howard Hughes and Henry Ford what would modern life be like? The Midwest. The roads should be peaceful and relaxing, not in the US. You get bombarded by road signs, eat this, drink that, buy this, get that. So you buy some fast food and once finished you straight away fart. Your then back on the road get attacked by an army led Napoleon Bonaparte. O America! From Walt Whitman to Allen Ginsberg. O America! From The Empire State Building to The Golden Gate Bridge California and the almighty red woods. One million and one Trees stand in the light breeze from big Sur in the moon light of yesteryear. An eagle flys over head, a red squirrel runs up the huge trunk, a black bear sniffs the pungent grounds at the red woods feet. Bye, Bye you ancient trees, hello the Lights, noise, madness of Las Vegas. The North! Now to Montana and ghostly grey shadows sweep across the vast plains. A hut then a old shed will pop up like a mushroom, in the distance the mountaintops shimmer red from the morning sun. Snow begins to melt like life slipping away from an injured soldier. The East! Huge factory’s blend into the even bigger cities, dark dense clouds hang overhead like the next world war. Cold winds shoot through your hair, people love each other and hate each each other even more. Great lobsters and the birth of America in 1773. The South! Old trees with grey beards stand next to batted homes, music decorates the air like and insect sticks. Chicken fillets fried, corn fields paint the land, peaches and oranges feed the people with money. An old white church on Sunday, a blues bar on Friday, grits, steak, slaw, warm biscuits on a Saturday. The West! Stuck up people, chilled out residents, red wine rolls down the hills, life is great Life is hell. The world of movies, the world of drugs, the world of money. A town dedicated to garlic, a town dedicated to Sun worshiping, a town dedicated to the beat generation. O America! From Walt Whitman to Allen Ginsberg. O America! From The Empire State Building to The Golden Gate Bridge Bop, bop, tap, tap, bop, tap. Music is life in New Orleans. Jazz and gumbo, Soul and a crayfish Po boy. Louisiana as the moon comes out to play, witch doctors, voodoo at midnight, bourbon is drunk by everyone, The tourist go to tourist spots, the real New Orleans don’t want them, they don’t want anyone, they have the best city in the world to themselves. Where would I be without the blues!!!!!!!!! I examine the class of the new world and all I see is a cell Phone in everyone’s hand. At a café, bar, airport, If a man- women is left by them self they straight away gaze into their phone. They are a perfect target for a thief! I would rather look at a falling dead autumn leaf. Austin Texas, Huston Texas, Dallas Texas, steaming bowls of Chilli in Texas, amazing beef jerky in Texas, Texas in Texas. Is Santa Cruz paradise or hell? Perfect bums and firm breast bounce on the sand, suntan bodies kiss and swim in the Salty sea. Expensive haircuts, six packs, eating lunch with daddy, going to a party, drinking cocktails, going to sleep that night with out feeling anything in the heart. The smell of plastic is stained over your soul. Or Fake tans, bad haircuts, dinner that cost more then one months rent for a poor family. Brain dead air heads who live a pointless 73 years. The lavender colour sun sinks on Paradise or hell? O America! From Walt Whitman to Allen Ginsberg. O America! From The Empire State Building to The Golden Gate Bridge Time passes slowly as Mr Dylan sings. And he couldn’t be more correct as I relax on the rolling dog. Endless hours and seconds pass by me like an old war veteran walking Down 5th avenue. Tennessee, Mississippi, Kentucky, whiskey, and cold beer. I look at the passenger I shear the bus with and I wonder as any of them read Ulysses or War and Peace? Dose it matter if they haven’t? dose it matter that I have? Dose anything matter anymore? My nihilistic thoughts are coming out of the wood works. I need to get off this bus and get a spicy tamale Down in sunny New Mexico. Mix together in a giant pestle and mortar the following ingredients. The brightest yellows, darkest browns, heart braking oranges, the whitest of white, The redness of wine and the calmness of green. Scup out and spread across the hills, mountains, and endless fields. Now Stand back, take in a deep breath and admire the Enchanted kingdom of New Mexico. John Ernest Steinbeck dominates the Californian landscape with his pale blue eyes, protruding ears and elegant panicle moustache. His words tumble down the lush hillsides, his thoughts glide over the trees. A bunch of his characters inhabit, homes, bars, farms. Fruit and vegetables rippen with his soul. From the redwoods to the pines in big Sur, the veins in the leaves flow with the blood of the great author. The pavements and side walks of Salinas and Monterey are decorated with his image. Long live J.E.S. Walking up Columbus Avenue with the smell of books decomposing in the air, walking down Castro street with the smell of sweet aftershave in the air, walking down Lombard street with the smell of car fumes in the air, walking down pier 39 with the smell of tourist in the air. Walking in San Francisco with the smell of America in the air. Farewell to the negatives of the US with its ugly towns, the lack of history, Farewell to the laws, cant walk across the road there, cant drink in Public cant do this cant do that. Farewell to the people, The caveman of the many youth, the ignoramus of the South. Farewell O farewell. Farewell the positives of the US with its kind hearted strangers, stunning Scenery, huge meals, great pizza slices, farewell to the women and To the great writers and the birth of modern music. Farewell to the land of opportunity’s , farewell to the 50 states. Farewell O farewell. O America! From Walt Whitman to Allen Ginsberg. O America! From The Empire State Building to The Golden Gate Bridge * A homeless man plays guitar on a park bench; a wealthy housewife gets her toe nails painted red, a Hasidic Jew scratch his beard, a Chinese man smokes behind his restaurants, a white hick goes to church, a black child plays baseball in the streets of Detroit, a fat politician lies his way through Life, a drug addict holds up a liqueur store, a Mexican immigrant get out of a truck in downtown L.A., a young women with red hair holds a party for her cool yuppie friends in Manhattan, an old man with grey hair plays the blues at sunset, a 25-year-old poet still writes, The stars and strips dance in the wind of desolation. Goad bless America!
© 2011 Luke RittaReviews
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5 Reviews  Last Updated on July 19, 2011 Author
Luke RittaLondon, United KingdomAboutHi, I am 26 and from London. I love writing short stories, poems and novels. My writing is a bit like Jack Kerouac and Ernest Hemingway. I love reading classic Literature, from Tolstoy to Proust, I .. more..Writing
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