8.01.2015

The Streets Smell of Champagne, a Poem

Author's Note: This is a rough draft, so be nice to me. I don't know if I should leave it as is or add some more.

The streets smell of champagne,
oozing Almondage,
Cook's, Korbel, and André.
Lean in; sniff the cracks,
get a hit of J. Rogét.
I wonder: what lush, plush,
posh nation is this?
Broken roads lining an
all-consuming necropolis.

Astounding;
what a great country this must be,
this land of the brave,
the free, the bold.
Where else in the world
do we venerate the extinguished
by paving and bathing
our streets in liquid gold?

We pour a sip for our birth into these times we're in,
the kink of our coils, trademark slits of our slants,
and oh, yes...our most hallowed:
melancholic melanin.

3 comments:

  1. Dearest, I am in no way qualified to judge your work. (For those who cannot write, read: and those who can’t portray, behold). Yet, for me this verse stands apart.

    We pour a sip for our birth into these times we're in,
    the kink of our coils, trademark slits of our slants,
    and oh, yes...our most hallowed:
    melancholic melanin.


    Now for me, these lines call to mind a scene from the 1975 film Cooley High. As "Preach" Jackson lets drip an ode of libation, For the For The Brothers Who Aint Here.

    It’s a haunting refrain. Nevertheless, as the innocence of my youth gave way to the aspirations of adulthood, so stood the distinctions of color. Neither curse nor detriment, our melanin is more like a precious balm. Revered for its curative properties it stands apart from the powdery pale, which limits and obfuscates. Ergo, as rough as you claim it is, I am in no less awe of your talent.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. I think I was aiming for a sort of sardonic despair. I feel I should add some more.

      Delete
  2. "I feel I should add some more."

    Can’t even count the times I’ve said that during my artistic life. That's when I step away from the work and wait for the missing measure to reveal itself. Time is of the most benefit when you're in no hurry to finish the work, simply to complete the thought. It will come I'm sure.

    Haven’t tasted of the grape since 1977. I saw that movie when I was in my teens, and that’s exactly what we used to do before the party. You poured a sip for those in absence. Guess some scenes (words and phrases) stay with you over time. Like a haunting-, well you know…

    Much like viewing a painting, not everyone will walk away with the same interpretation (Irrespective of the Artist's intent).

    ReplyDelete

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