MY OH MY
Ragtag minstrels bemuse quixotic daydreamers
Splashing off a blue pepper beat
Oolong melodies wafting from Mott to Mulberry
Beyond hidden labyrinths of blind alleyways
A raucous lair mutates some infamous address
Unseen street urchins, starving artists, & long coat poets
pervade wine-stained stoops and deep shadows
I look, I peer, I stare
Strangers ablaze with indignation
I seek to unmask their thin veneer of cordiality
I ask, I question, I smile
prying beyond the fiddle-faddle and poppycock
I sense in their sneering indolence
I feel out of tune
Uninspired by condescending chitchat and
blended concoctions of deniability
Rollicking defiance, frocked in tattered pride
☞ ☜
© ~ Randy Bell ~ 2013
cloudfactor5
Feb 19, 2013 @ 15:02:47
A great richness to this one, RB–the auricular, the lingual, the imagery, a depth of message only found in poetry–and only the good stuff, at that. Loved it.
Feb 19, 2013 @ 16:58:31
I love this, the flow that catchy rhythm filled with a haste… feel like that myself often, we don’t see what we should. Strong words.
Feb 19, 2013 @ 17:45:08
It’s my impression that this is auto-biographical. And maybe befitting many of us. Love this–”long coat poets pervade wine-stained stoops and deep shadows.”
Feb 19, 2013 @ 19:26:59
I enjoyed this one the imagery brought the piece to life and the picture is hilarious. Nice!
Feb 20, 2013 @ 05:03:28
You’ve captured the sense of being out of place so well – of knowing there’s something you’re not being told, something you’re not being allowed to see, but not quite being able to identify what it is.
Feb 20, 2013 @ 08:06:05
I feel like that when I walk around town, after so many years away…
Feb 20, 2013 @ 11:32:46
Wonderfull rhytmic wordplay, and yes that is hwo one might feeld sometimes.
Feb 20, 2013 @ 19:15:50
I know that feeling, Randy. Well captured.
Pamela