So you’ve peaked at my profile
to see what you can see,
But were alarmed
at no name and no biography.
You think to yourself what kind of schmuck is this?
To write a poem. Why no creds? Is the poem even his?
I do indeed live in the New York of City
A wondrous land, if you love anonymity
My writing, It is just a lobby to go
to the pain that is apart of reality
which is just a simple hobby to flow,
for no gain to impart, just my misery.
For critic’s glee, give a rat’s behind,
can’t care less of format or style
For fault in me, where I already find,
the critique’s insult to injury.. completely vile.
& yes there may be self loathing there
But walk a mile in my moccasins, need I say, 'on a dare? '
So my friends please pay no heed
to this coward’s shame
to stay anonymous.
no friends, no home, no wife…no seed,
if you don’t know my name,
I can pretend to be one of us.
Latin from Manhattan.
NYCboy
My suicide bride
I know I have no chance,
for you have made your choice.
...
So you’ve peaked at my profile
to see what you can see,
But were alarmed
at no name and no biography.
...
The rhythm and flow takes a dark toll.
For the dance in my head never stops and plays dead.
It’s 3am, with bags in my eyes; the fever still spies, a troll
that cant stop writing.
...
My Bob n Flow
My promise to you, this bob n flow, which comes to me…unpredictable,
It comes n goes, I’m sure you know, how long it’s going to last.
You’re serious writers, studied and true, your works…delectable,
...