Up All Night Waiting For Something That Never Comes

it’s not that I can’t sleep
it’s that I don’t want to

an old habit
one that’s returned
with age

like a child
overtired
afraid I might
miss something

the city at rest
a cloud moving across the night sky
a song on the radio
or mother’s return

I stay up
waiting for the sun
waiting for something
to happen

until I’m too tired
to be tired

then I’ll go to sleep

(D. James)

Advertisements

morning luck

long shadows
rush around
in straight lines

bundled against
the early morning sun
that gives off light
but little heat

another day
for the many lucky enough
to have made it through the night

yet who among us
thinks of the new day that way
before the first cup of coffee
if at all

(D. James)

day’s end

buildings so high
they reach
beyond the sky

and everywhere are sounds
and smells
and crowds

densely packed trains
rumble the ground
carrying the millions
under the river

then
suddenly
bursting from the depths
on the other side

the blinding sun
sinking behind the skyline

there is nowhere quite like here
though some people will tell you otherwise

but this city can crush you
or make you
like no other

and once you’ve experienced it
whether for a day
or the rest of your life

you can never
forget it

(D James)

urban scrawl

this thing strung together making no sense yet kept writing these words and not even thinking letting them flow and trying to keep up like in life when everything moves at the speed of sound and people keep moving and I seem to be in the way, slower than everyone else feeling tired and left behind it all seems a bit too much maybe I’m still on west coast time or it could be that I’m no longer interested in the rushing and running, the pushing and shoving, shouldering my way through life trying to get in front of the person in front of me assholes behind me kicking at the backs of my shoes, knocking them off skittering across the platform as the E train rushes out of the station and the next group of followers gathers in the station, and on to the next thing, the one after the one right before this one, how can anyone make sense of the world anymore when people start conversations in e-mail and end them in text, and no one, no one, answers the phone any longer, why can’t this rant end? because there are no endings and no beginnings, there’s just all this rushing around in the middle and when I go, and when you go, there will still be 6 billion and more on the planet to take up where we left off, and there is no reason for it, no meaning – it all is and it all isn’t and we’re here to sort out what it means to us now, and then we’re gone. And the sun will rise and the sun will set, and the sun will rise and the sun will set …

(D. James)

thinking thoughts of shouldn’t sayings on Sundays

whispers
of things
I meant to
say

when long ago
I watched
the sun rise

now the moon
is full

and my heart
sinks

the demons
smoke cigarettes
behind the gate

waiting
in darkness
to be let out

(D. James)

whatever you do … don’t

don’t take this
away

it’s the last
small joy
we have

like a slender shaft
of sunlight
through the basement
window

don’t take it
away

we won’t
know what
to do then

waiting,
like refugees
under a rain-soaked
tarp

hoping,
for what was
what might be

so please
don’t take it
away

they’ll be
nothing left
to say

(D. James)