We the Late Night Crusaders
Where go the Italian scootsters
With De Niro faces and gold chains?
Where go the surf headed looters
With straw for hair and flip flopped feet?
Where go the loose locked neighbors
With slump stances and technology?
Where go the clean cut brokers
Who pine over facts and figures?
Where go the Indian commuters
With soccer clothes and lazy gaits?
Where go the alpine climbers
Who linger long on the moving sidewalks?
Where go the lonely sun movers
With their oversized sweatshirt phannypack fiascos?
Where go the globulated page flippers
Who sink into the leather facing one another?
Where go the shifty slim pretenders
Wearing their backwards caps and limping?
Where go the skinny jeaned skaters
Who surrender themselves in stature?
Where go the evangelical debaters
Whom carry no badge of honor?
Where go the pony tailed senators
With their bright colors contrasting?
Where go the wisest consumaters
Toasting their eyes and tipping brows
Where go the pink woven pop culture chasers
Who know how to get about under the moon
Where go the look alikes, the hazard hatters
The penny misers, and the hunched over motion staters
The marine biology traitors, the ambiguous ego deflaters
The minute smile makers, and the absolute story portrayers
But most of all;
Where go the late night crusaders?
For without them I would not wonder,
But they all go.
He go, she go
I go, you go
We all, all go
Looks we go.
In dresses in hoods
With baby carriages
Those loose locked neighbors
Of the families out side.
Loose locked neighbors
Of the current time.
He doesn't know
How I write him down.
And you miss droop skinned painkiller,
How could I forget about you?
There's nothing more precious than
Two sisters who still wear light up shoes.
They still take large steps so the earth does not
Forget them, I will not forget them.
But how many woman's dress pants can one
Little poem boy take?
We the silent leather lovers.
We the metro-sexual song dovers.
We the clandestine cellphone talkers.
We the meaningless picture takers.
We the navy blazer blazers.
We the half assed executive strutters.
We the New York street runners.
We the people watchers.
We are writing poems about each other.
Poems in our minds eye.
Grimacing at our identifiers.
It seems that in the carpet perfumed air.
Some time between sunset and sunrise
Awaiting our turn to cash in tickets to leave our thoughts.
For a split second we all become poets.
Alec Witthohn's Other Poems
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Comments about this poem (We the Late Night Crusaders by Alec Witthohn )
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(30 October 1885 – 1 November 1972)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
- A Pact, Ezra Pound
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Fire and Ice, Robert Frost
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
- A Dream Within A Dream, Edgar Allan Poe