from beneath the sheets
soaked with last night
I slump
another nightmare
unfortunately
I’ve again awakened
another hard night
now
another shit day
I rise
make my way carefully
moving head down
shufflin’ to the bathroom
to wash my face
it’s reflected sallow
in the yellowed wash
of feeble incandescence
strange tired eyes
hold me in the mirror
broken as my spirit
eyes of knowing
eyes of disappoint
eyes of sadness
the look burns through me
weighing upon my being
I want to scream
but no one’s here to hear me
in this cluttered two-room flat
morning maintenance done
I grab a cold bagel
gather up my stuff
trudge out the front door
down the rickety wood stairs
into the oblivious streets
that echo my strangled dreams
I duck and dodge
in and out
of early morning shadows
past the garbage and graffiti
of these dirty bricken’d canyons
they vibrate with the rush and chaos
of synapse and sinew
the hum of networked urgency
data outdistancing comprehension
can — beyond the reach of — should
monoliths of human avarice
cold and indifferent
clad in stainless
stone
and such
a halogen and neon blaze
they surge with manipulation
and greed
in varying shape and differing size
they flank in concrete corridors
that criss and cross
blink and beep and ring
they buzz and hiss
and stink
thoughts flood in a torrent
souring my head
I’m now rushing
unseeing
seething with anger
and exasperation
when suddenly
I stumble
a crack in the sidewalk
this fuckin’ city!
then I look down
startled
what the hell
a flower
really
no shit!
in that moment
flabbergasted
I unspring my tension
exhaling
I pause
I’ll be damned
caught in a flash
of wonder
I muse
maybe
maybe dreams
actually do survive
somewhere
in this concrete hell-hole
rob kistner © 2021
Poetry at: Sunday Muse
Startling, stunning, abject misery so well drawn, and stumbling onto a bit of hope. Brilliant, Rob.bev
Thank you Bev! 🙂 The photo just took me to the contrast between the hard cityscape, and the beauty of the surprise flower — and it flowed almost SOC..
For some reason this reminds me of another Joe Cocker song, “Shelter Me.”
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qROGiuhxFL8
Maybe the writing of “Shelter Me” was influenced by John Sebastian’s song? I don’t feel the similarity to the degree you do Shay, but I see where you’re comin’ from. I do like Cocker’s “Summer In The City” better than the original by Lovin’ Spoonful. I think the interpretation Cocker did unlocked the soul of the song.
Love Joe Cocker, you keep choosing my faves … I can taste, feel, hear, see that jungle you described so beautifully …. true dat.
Helen, I am just picking good music, we just have great taste… 🙂 . Thank you Helen, that little flower spoke to me.
“maybe dreams
actually do survive
somewhere” – I sure hope so!
So do I…!
A welcomed anomaly in this person’s world.
Yes Lisa!
I think dreams grow in unexpected places but, sometimes we have to face the nightmares that seem to haunt us in life. I can feel the pulse of your words.
“I’m just a soul whose intentions are good
Oh Lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood”
looping in my head now….
I appreciate your wonderful response here True.
Stunning description here Rob. I can feel the intense sense of loss and love the hope that rises in the closing lines! Beautiful!!
Thank you Carrie! 🙂
Some things are just too stubborn not to grow. I hope we all have at least one thing in our lives as determined as that dandelion.
Dreams can be stubborn coming true sometimes Rommy, but that makes it all the sweeter when they do.
A slice of (a damned) life poem. So vivid it pulled me along.
When you’re on, you’re really on!
Thank you Charley… 🙂 …even a blind dog finds the occasional bone.
That ending was a gift, made more valuable by the descriptive power of every line preceding it. The speaker’s annoyance, disappointment, and straight up hostility towards the concrete jungle is very clear. The same goes for the surprise and joy at the closing.
I am pleased this touched you Magaly…! 🙂
Very powerfull I can feel the desparation and sadness of this person and love the last line; a glimmer of hope
Glad this resonated Marja!
The build-up of detail of the protagonist’s bleak, despairing existence makes the contrast of that flower bursting into life as startling and positive for us as it must have been for him.
Glad this reached you Rosemary… 🙂
All you need is a small distraction from a sad mood and that flower in the sidewalk does it for you and and you realize life is not so bad after all. Great poem!
Yes, life’s little things have such impact sometimes Robin.
Hard to tell sometimes what the angels are up to in our dreams, flitting about with such ugly, tormenting imagoes … Though in them somewhere is the expectation of that flower, the grace of small essential things. I hope anyway … my dreams have all been sour of late, some blues discoloring them, though I wake from them as if cleansed of something and give thanks … weird … Lovin’ Spoonful version back in the ’60s was a flower in concrete for me. Thanks for bringin’ it to earthweal. – Brendan
Dreams are the shadow life we all live — meaning always uncertain. I agree with you Brendan. The Lovin’ Spoonful were such a breath of fresh air in the 60’s. When it came out in ‘66 my band immediately covered “Summer In The City”. Our stage version was a bit more R&B, not unlike Cocker’s, because we were a Rock and R&B group. Also, John Sebastian, dressed in his tie-dye, singing “Younger Generation” on the Woodstock stage was sweetly memorable. I just went with Cocker’s “City” because I thought it fit the tone of my poem “Maybe” a bit better.
Well done, Rob! I like your conclusion and the journey to it.
Thsnk you so much RW! 🙂
Enjoyed this one all the way through, especially:
the oblivious streets
that echo my strangled dreams
Thanks Graham.