Things aren't always what they seem. People aren't always what they seem.
I live in a city of dinosaurs.
They stand still.
And pretend to be structures of steel and drywall.
But I know the truth.
They breathe
And blink
When everybody is focused on traffic
And tabloid scandals
And the incompetent coffee-boy mixing their frothy rush-hour drinks.
I live in a city of crying geese.
They moan like sinners.
But I know better.
They're all just faking it to ward off the gunmen.
I envy their longevity:
I went hoarse three weeks ago
And I'm surprised I'm not dead yet.
I live in a city of reanimated fossils,
Where I stay skinny so I won't be spotted
As human.
Sometimes, there's a crash
In our sidewalk mobs.
Followed by a cry of pain.
Those are the saddest days.
As we move towards the spotted preserved,
Me, along with my bone brothers,
And they go down beneath the sea of crunching marrow
Like a broke-winged bird.
I live in a city of monsters,
Hideous,
Grotesque monsters,
With yellow fingernails
And blood shot eyes.
But they whisper the most beautiful things.
Sometimes,
I wonder if they're really monsters at all.
this is a poem which i like, there that is enough. i wish i could take this poem and carry it somewhere, and it is summer, and i carry it through the crooked doors of certain mountains we all go to to see sometimes, like we think it is a vacation and we think we know and give up knowing so it wont get in the way, and that is probably how i like this poem.
or i could say the structure is narrative, and you are experimenting with breathing each line, that works well, it is also a variation of things some poets of my (I am an old woman) generation would call stream of consciousness writing, getting all Jungian, and all... of that...thanks raining
this is so cool! it has great imagery, I could picture everything perfectly. the last stanza was my fave, it was like a twist to show that not all things are as scary as we think. nice work, keep it up!
I wasn't quite sure if I liked the direction when it first started out, but at this point I must say I am quite pleased with this piece. Good stuff in the second stanza, and powerful close. The ambiguity works well. I'll have to dwell on this to truly formulate my thoughts.
i like the idea driving this piece.
However I think the middle two stanza's are a little weak, and take from the strength of the others. I would suggest removing them, and also line 4 from the first stanza.
I listen to the beautiful whispers. I wonder at all I see and hear. What a brilliant journey you've drawn us into . . . I want to see the same things you see. I want to hear those very same whispers. Excellent work!
The best way I can summarize this piece is with one subtle, unassuming word; cute.
It was very cute, and quaint. A childlike quality in the observations, that seemed deceptive in their childlikedness-ity. They seemed to mock alternative, more 'conventional' impressions and expressions of said impressions, if that makes any sense.
I liked the road you were going with this, but personally would have loved it if you went even deeper into the bizarre with it. I dont know, I suppose if you did, it would just cheapen the quaint quality of this, so I suppose as it is, its plenty good.
There is a hint of post-modernism where people and society become apathetic of the world around them, succumbing to their personal existence in the lines
When everybody is focused on traffic
And tabloid scandals, to name some.
This shuns the idea of an underlying fantasy. City life is stoic. But the persona find beauty among it.
Clever.
I like awkward things and people, lomography, and tea.
If I like you, I'll tell you. People think it's cute. I'm just clumbsy with all that lingual foreplay.
If you ask me to be your friend, I .. more..