Excerpt from Poems From a Different Past
Coming back from NYC-it’s a place that once was beautiful and now walks in its filth and yet, calls itself beautiful.
It’s a place that has all and yet gives away nothing free.
It is a place that has a welcome mat in its doorway and a gun in its kitchen.
It is a place where people have proven that money is god and god is money.
It is a place of fear, gossip, destitution, fortune and meaningless black anger.
It is a place of lonely crowds, crowded madmen, mad crowds and lonely madmen.
New York is a place that knows nothing and is all knowing; is nothing and thinks that it is everything.
New York is a caricature of humankind, a farce, a joke, a good fuck on a rainy day, a pimp-bitch.
It is a place of joy and dreams and dreams of joy; past, futures and future pasts, genius and chimps, want-to-be’s and stupid attitudes.
It is a place of lost religions: dumb doilies, saints, elephants, swords and pillars, bellowing ministers.
New York is the place of ending and human sacrifice; no-goods and “why me”, suits, ties and Halloween.
It is the place of no reason and shallow culture; those underlings of ignorance and high aspirations.
New York is the achievement of whores for those who do not want to know anything; the house that is filthy and proud; the worthless shit of forgotten sewage.
New York is humanity, cluttered in its quick and hidden remorse; sheltered by its looming doom and peaceful with its ghosts.
It is the place where gods and thieves dine together at the table of many on the bodies of the few, not knowing that death lays in the plate.
New York is what New York was destined to be, never was, always will be, has been, not for long, forever.
