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If everyone cleaned his own doorstep, all the streets would be clean.

Hebrew proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dancing In The Streets

Keep on dancing in the streets
Keep on dancing in the streets
Keep on dancing in the streets
Keep on dancing in the streets
Dancing in the streets
With any one you got to meet
Moving to the rhythm
Let your body feel the beat
Dancing in the streets
Let your feelings hanging out
Give it all youve got
Keep on dancing, sing and shout!
Keep on dancing in the streets
Keep on dancing in the streets
Keep on dancing in the streets
Keep on dancing in the streets
Dancing in the streets
With any one you got to meet
Moving to the rhythm
Let your body feel the beat
Dancing in the streets
Let your feelings hanging out
Give it all youve got
Keep on dancing, sing and shout!
Keep on dancing in the streets
Keep on dancing in the streets
Keep on dancing in the streets
Keep on dancing in the streets
Keep on, keep on, keep on dancing
Keep on, keep on, keep on dancing
Keep on, keep on, keep on dancing
Keep on, keep on, keep on dancing
Keep on, keep on, keep on dancing
Keep on, keep on, keep on dancing
Keep on dancing in the streets
Keep on dancing in the streets
Keep on dancing in the streets
Keep on dancing in the streets
Keep on dancing in the streets
Keep on dancing in the streets
Keep on dancing in the streets
Keep on dancing in the streets
Keep on dancing in the streets
Keep on dancing in the streets
Keep on...

song performed by Boney M.
Added by Lucian Velea
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My Needs Not Met

I'm manifesting something brittle.
Something needing special company.
I fiddle-faddled in the middle.
And weakened both batteries.

I'm manifesting something brittle.
And I'm seeking from you empathy...
Cause my baby has had it with me.
And now I find myself...
Walking up and down the streets.

I'm manifesting something brittle.
Something needing special company.
I fiddle-faddled in the middle.
And weakened both batteries.

I'm manifesting something brittle.
And I'm seeking from you empathy...
Cause my baby has had it with me.
And now I find myself...
Walking up and down the streets.

Never thought I'd be the one.
Living on the streets.
Disbelieving...
And living on the streets.
And seeing...
Living on the streets,
My needs not met!
Living on the streets.
And regretting.
Living on the streets.

Never thought I'd be the one.
Living on the streets.
Disbelieving...
And living on the streets.
And seeing...
Living on the streets,
My needs not met!
Living on the streets.
And regretting.
Living on the streets.

Never thought I'd be the one.
Living on the streets.
And seeing...
Living on the streets,
My needs...
Living on the streets,

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The House Of Dust: Complete

I.

The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.

And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.

'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.

We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .

Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.

Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.

Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.

II.

[...] Read more

poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Clean Up The World

Clean Up The World

Where have we gone?
We’ve drifted away
Too many years
Nothin’ to say
Too many years
Intentional lies
Too many years
Collegiate-laundered hipplets
Drivin’ us to demise

Got to clean up the world, clean up the world
Clean up the world, clean up the world
We’ve got to put that yuppie back in its cage

Along came McRonald
We got in its way
Too many years
Puppeteers played
Too many years
Stealing us blind
Too many years
Of totalitarians smothering us from the right

Got to clean up the world, clean up the world
Clean up the world, clean up the world
We’ve got to put that yuppie back in its cage

Their Wall Street money’s been holdin’ us fast
Ideals shallow and vain
They sell us all just to make it last
Revolution of ‘89 today

We got to clean up the world, clean up the world
Clean up the world, clean up the world
We’ve got to put that yuppie back in its cage

Self-centered cosmos
Material gain
Too many years
Deflecting their blame
Too many years
Stuffin’ their cart
Too many years
Deceit inside the head
Instead of love in their heart

Got to clean up the world, clean up the world
Clean up the world, clean up the world

[...] Read more

poem by Will Fiala
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Golden Streets Of Glory

Glory to his name, oh, holy, holy
Theres a city where the streets are paved in gold
A land where the milk and the honey flow
And a mansion which for me
cause my Bible tells the story
I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
Green meadows where the little children play
No sorrow there, just one long happy day
And none will litter there except the pure and the holy
I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
And when Ive reached my journeys end
And if Im worthy to go in
Golden streets of glory, I walk on
And the golden streets of my new home
Will lead me up to the masters throne
With the angel band Ill sing
Glory to his name, oh, holy, holy
I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
Hallelujah, I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
And when Ive reached my journeys end
And if Im worthy to go in
Golden streets of glory, Ill walk on
And the golden streets of my new home
Will lead me up to the masters throne
With the angel band Ill sing
Glory to his name, oh, holy, holy
I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory
Hallelujah, I just hope my feet are clean enough
To walk upon the golden streets of glory

song performed by Dolly Parton
Added by Lucian Velea
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City Streets

The gaudy glow of neon lights
dispels the darkness of the nights
on city streets.

They pop and fizzle noisily
creating a cacophony
on city streets.

The sober folks walk warily
and drunks stagger uncaringly
on city streets.

The ladies of the night parade
for there is money to be made
on city streets.

Drug dealers ready to retreat
if they should hear a coppers feet
on city streets.

The night shift workers wend their way
towards their work to start their day
on city streets.

The noisy revellers thin out
as one by one the signs go out
on city streets.

The gradually noises abate
and ghostly shadow congregate
on city streets.

For some few hours peace will reign
before the noise will start again
on city streets.

The early morning traffic sounds
start with the milkmen on their rounds
on city streets.

This builds up to an angry roar
as cars and lorries inward pour
on city streets

then when at last rush hour has passed
noise levels will subside at last
on city streets

I thank the lord that I am free
to leave this noise far behind me

[...] Read more

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Where The Streets Have No Name/cant Take My Eyes Off You

(hewson/evan/mullen/clayton/gaudio/crewe)
-----------------------------------------
(burning down love)
(burning down love)
I want to run, I want to hide
I want to break down the walls that hold me inside
I want to reach out, and touch the flame
Where the streets have no name
Ah-ha-ah
I want to feel the sun on my face
I see the dust cloud disappear without a trace
I want to take shelter from poison rain
Where the streets have no name
Ah-ha-ah
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name
Were still building, then burning down love
Burning down love
And when I go there
I go there with you
Where the streets have no name
Cant take my eyes off of you
I love you, baby, and if its quite alright
I need you, baby, to warm a lonely night
So let me love you, baby
Let me love you
The citys aflood, our love turns to rust
Were beaten and blown by the wind, trampled in dust
Ill show you a place, high on a desert plain
Where the streets have no name
Ah-ha-ah
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name
Were still building, then burning down love
Burning down love
And when I go there
Its all I can do
Where the streets have no name
I cant take my eyes off of you
(ooh aah)
Love you, baby, let me love you
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name
Where the streets have no name

song performed by Pet Shop Boys
Added by Lucian Velea
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Clean

Eat clean,
Live clean,
Sleep clean,
dress clean,
Walk clean,
Learn clean,
Play clean,
Think clean,
dance clean,
Talk clean,
Sing clean,
work clean,
Because the world around you is watching what you do;
You are the only one on this earth,
So live and let us live too.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Sun Green

Sun Green started makin' waves
On the day that Grandpa died
Speakin' out against anything
Unjust or packed with lies
She chained herself to a statue of an eagle
In the lobby of Power Co.
And started yelling through a megaphone,
"There's corruption on the highest floor."
Suits poured out of elevators
"You're all dirty."
Phoneheads began to speak
"You can't trust any of them."
Security couldn't get her down
She was welded to the eagle's beak.
Sun Green leaned into that megaphone, said,
"Truth is all I seek."
Security brought in some blow torches
News cameras recorded her speech,
"When the city is plunged into darkness
by an unpredicted rolling blackout
The White House always blames the governor
Saying the solution is to vote him out."
On top of that great bronze eagle
Sun's voice was loud and clear. She said,
"Power Co's working with the White House
to paralyze our state with fear."
It was a golden moment
In the history of TV news
No one could believe it
It just got great reviews
"Hey, Mr. Clean, you're dirty now, too.
Hey, Mr. Clean, you're dirty now, too.
Hey, Mr. Clean, you're dirty now, too.
Hey, Mr. Clean, you're dirty now, too."
The Imitators were playing
Down at Jon Lee's bar
When Sun went down to see em
Someone followed her in a car
Now when she goes dancin'
She has to watch her back
The FBI just trashed her room
One of them kicked her cat
Damn thing scratched his leg
So he had to shoot it dead
And leave it lyin' in a puddle of blood
At the foot of Sun Green's bed
Jon Lee's was rockin'
The Imitators drove it home
Sun was dancin' up a heat wave
For awhile she was all alone

[...] Read more

song performed by Neil Young
Added by Lucian Velea
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So Fresh, So Clean

Chorus:
Aint nobody dope as me Im dressed so fresh so clean
(so fresh and so clean clean)
Dont you think Im so sexy Im dressed so fresh so clean
(so fresh and so clean clean)
Aint nobody dope as me Im dressed so fresh so clean
(so fresh and so clean clean)
I love when you stare at me Im dressed so fresh so clean
(so fresh and so clean clean)
(big boi)
Sir luscious got gator belts and patty melts and monte carlos
And el dorados Im waking up out of my slumber feeling like ralo
So follow its your time at the apollo
Minus the kiki shepard what about a ho in a leopard-print
Teddy pender-grass cooler than freddie jackson
Sippin a milkshake in a snowstorm
Left my throat warm in the dorm room at the au
We do hey you and might do some cake too
But you must have me mistaken with them statements that you make
Cause
Chorus
(andre 3000)
Canary yellow seven house of business on display
My nigga bungle whipped it up so I gone get my rims today
So a nigga can ride out to the colorful hideout
Ima show you how to wild out like jack trippa
Let me be bambino on your snippas
Ykk on yo zippa lick you like a lizard
When Im slizzard or sober 6 million ways to fold ya
Like noah I get crews to choose and you get pretty deep
But Ill call yo ass round 8-ish I know youll be there for me
Cause
Chorus
(andre 3000)
Those huge baby eyes get to runnin off at they mouth
Tellin me everything thats on yo nasty mind
They say your malnutrition in need of vitamin d
And inviting me to that tingle in yo spine
I love who you are love who ya aint you so anne frank
Lets hit the attic to hide out for bout two weeks
With change and no chains and whips I do suck lips
Till hips jerk and double time the boy next doors a freak
Ha ha
Chorus
(and we are...) the coolest motherfunkers on the planet
(in my mind ...) the sky is fallin aint no need to panic
(but oh oh.....) I got a stick and want yo automatic
(oh oh oh...) compatible created in the attic
(repeat)
Chorus 2x

song performed by Outkast
Added by Lucian Velea
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Dancing In The Streets

Wow!
Ah yeah!
Calling out around the world,are you ready for a brand new beat.
Summers here and the time is right,for dancing in the streets,
Theyre dancing in chicago ( theyll be dancing )
Down in new oreleans ( dancing in the streets )
Up in new york city ( dancing in the streets )
All we need is music ( sweet sweet ) sweet music (sweet sweet music )
Therell be music everywhere.
Therell be swinging,swaying,records playing,dancing in the streets,oh!
It doesnt matter what hat you wear,just as long as you are there,
So come on
Grab a guy,grab a girl,everywhere around the world.
Therell be dancing,dancing in the streets.
( oh )its just an invitation,across the nation,a chance for folks to meet.
Therell be laughing and singing,music swinging,dancing in the streets
All we need is music ( sweet sweet ) sweet music (sweet sweet music )
Therell be music everywhere.
Therell be swinging,swaying,records playing,dancing in the streets,oh!
It doesnt matter what hat you wear,just as long as you are there,
So come on
Grab a guy,grab a girl,everywhere around the world.
Dancing,dancing in the streets,
Way down in la,everyday,dancing in the streets ( dancing in the streets )
San francisco way, ( dancing in the streets ), they do it everyday now,
( dancing in the streets )

song performed by Van Halen
Added by Lucian Velea
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Visions

Sittin' on the doorstep
watchin' the passers-by,
the little child wonders
what she will be
before it's time to die?
In her head
she has a vision
of being a queen
or a movie star,
anything, but mean.

She's heard people say
that you can grow up
to be president someday.
But on that doorstep
no one even waves her way.
And still the visions
keep a-comin'.
She could be a dancer
or a singer
and she starts in hummin'.

Someone's heard her hummin'.
She sees 'em commin'.
'Get yourself
off of that doorstep.'
She takes the broom
and starts in sweepin'.

Deep inside
starts the weepin'
Gotta keep that
doorstep clean.
If she doesn't
how's she gonna
keep her visions?
She'll just end up
being mean.

poem by Edwina Reizer
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Keep It Clean

Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.

Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.

So hard they've tried to reflect perfection.
A wholesome outlook,
With good deeds done they do!
They want to project a godlike self righteousness.
With wings adorned and hymns sung!
Angelic voices from everyone,
Harmonizing,
In collective united bliss.
But the truth about this...
There is BS that sits within their midst,
And not one of them can resist
An addicting sniff!
Since they are all full of it!

Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.

Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.

Something kept stinking...
From fat greasy meat.
Suited and smoking cigars,
Chartering planes with high profiled stars.
And posing with those who piloted...
The sucking up of all resources.
As admirers rejoiced!
Thinking they heard 'voices' from beyond...
'You too could live like this!
We'll make sure of it! '

Keep it clean.
Every crack your packing.
Soap it up and down.
Rinse that dirt away.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Trivia ; or, the Art of Walking the Streets of London : Book II.

Of Walking the Streets by Day.

Thus far the Muse has trac'd in useful lays
The proper implements for wintry ways;
Has taught the walker, with judicious eyes,
To read the various warnings of the skies.
Now venture, Muse, from home to range the town,
And for the public safety risk thy own.
For ease and for dispatch, the morning's best;
No tides of passengers the street molest.
You'll see a draggled damsel, here and there,
From Billingsgate her fishy traffic bear;
On doors the sallow milk-maid chalks her gains;
Ah! how unlike the milk-maid of the plains!
Before proud gates attending asses bray,
Or arrogate with solemn pace the way;
These grave physicians with their milky cheer,
The love-sick maid and dwindling beau repair;
Here rows of drummers stand in martial file,
And with their vellum thunder shake the pile,
To greet the new-made bride. Are sounds like these
The proper prelude to a state of peace?
Now industry awakes her busy sons,
Full charg'd with news the breathless hawker runs:
Shops open, coaches roll, carts shake the ground,
And all the streets with passing cries resound.
If cloth'd in black, you tread the busy town
Or if distinguish'd by the rev'rend gown,
Three trades avoid; oft in the mingling press,
The barber's apron soils the sable dress;
Shun the perfumer's touch with cautious eye,
Nor let the baker's step advance too nigh;
Ye walkers too that youthful colours wear,
Three sullying trades avoid with equal care;
The little chimney-sweeper skulks along,
And marks with sooty stains the heedless throng;
When small-coal murmurs in the hoarser throat,
From smutty dangers guard thy threaten'd coat:
The dust-man's cart offends thy clothes and eyes,
When through the street a cloud of ashes flies;
But whether black or lighter dyes are worn,
The chandler's basket, on his shoulder borne,
With tallow spots thy coat; resign the way,
To shun the surly butcher's greasy tray,
Butcher's, whose hands are dy'd with blood's foul stain,
And always foremost in the hangman's train.
Let due civilities be strictly paid.
The wall surrender to the hooded maid;
Nor let thy sturdy elbow's hasty rage
Jostle the feeble steps of trembling age;

[...] Read more

poem by John Gay
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Streets Is Watching

Uh huh uh huh uh
Gee gee geyeah
Baby watchin streets
Uh huh uh huh uh
You don't have to look
Uh huh uh
The streets is watching
Check it check
Uh huh uh check
Look if I shoot you I'm brainless
But if you shoot me then you're famous what's a n*gga to do?
When the streets is watching blocks keep clocking
Waiting for you to break make your first mistake
Can't ignore it that's the fastest way to get extorted
But my time is money, at twenty-five, I can't afford it
Beef is sorted like Godiva, chocolates
N*ggaz you bought it, I pull the slide back and cock it
Plan aborted, you and your mans get a pass
This rhyme, you're operating on f*ck time
Y'all n*ggaz ain't worth my shells, all y'all n*ggaz
tryin to do is hurt my sales, and stop trips to John McNale
The type to start a beef then, run to the cops
When I see you in the street got, one in the drop
Would I rather be on tour getting a, hundred a pop
Taking pictures with some b*tches, in front of the drop
The streets is watching
*chorus*
When the, streets is watching
Blocks keep clocking
Waiting for you to break, make your first mistake
Can't ignore it
Now it's hard not to kill n*ggaz
It's like a full time job not to kill n*ggaz, can't chill
the streets is watching you, when you froze your arms
N*ggaz wanna test you and your gun goes warm
Can't get caught with your feet up, gotta keep your heat up
Sweet n*ggaz running 'round swearing sh*t is sweeter
Once you're tagged lame the game is follow the leader
Everybody want a piece of your scrilla, so you gotta keep it realer
Kidnap n*ggaz wanna steal ya
Broke n*ggaz want no cash, they just wanna kill ya
for the name, n*ggaz don't know the rules
Disrespectin the game, want you to blow your cool
Force your hand, of course that man's plottin
Smarten up, the streets is watching, it's on
*chorus*
My street mentality flip bricks forever, know me and money
we like armed co-defendants, n*gga we stick together
Sh*t whatever for this cheddar ran my game into the ground
Hustle harder to see if indictment time came around

[...] Read more

song performed by Jay-Z
Added by Lucian Velea
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Black Market White Baby Dealer

My black market white baby dealer
Is hunting around overseas
My black market white baby dealer
Brings back clean, fresh white babies to me
Clean, fresh white babies to me
My black market white baby dealer
Is rooting around overseas
My black market white baby dealer
Kidnaps clean, fresh white babies for me
Clean, fresh white babies for me
My smile is dime a dozen
My lips are cherry red
My eyes are blue like the sky is blue
I got good shoulders under my head
I look like your mother
I look like your great-aunt
So sit me down in the family photo
And everyone tells me that i, I look just like you
My black market white baby dealer
Is hunting around overseas
My black market white baby dealer
Brings back clean, fresh white babies to me
He brings back
Oh my god, he brings back
He brings back clean, fresh, white expensive babies
He brings back
Oh charlie, he brings back
He brings back clean, fresh, white expensive babies
I come post-production
I dont need natal care
Im already fully assembled
Down to the very last part, its all there
So take me to your family
So take me to your home
Buddy, take me in as your next generation
And Ill take you out of the lost one and into mine
My black market white baby dealer
Is hunting around overseas
My black market white baby dealer
Brings back clean, fresh white babies to me
Clean, fresh white babies to me
Clean, fresh white babies to me

song performed by Liz Phair
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tough Streets Of Chicago

Tough streets of Chicago, you made me who I am.
Tough streets of Chicago, for me you had a plan.
You forced me to observe, what kids my age did not.
You taught me to look and see, always looking for a plot.
You taught me to react, and kept me on my toes.
You taught me to examine, the actions of my foes.
You forced me to react, in situations dire.
You made sure I would function, when I came under fire.
You made sure I was tough, made sure I'd understand,
the skills that I would need, when I joined uncle Sam.

Tough streets of Chicago, I almost went insane.
Tough streets of Chicago, you caused me so much pain.
You made me grow up fast, always dodging death.
You made me run from danger, could hardly catch my breath.
You took most of my friends, why, I'll never understand.
You made it possible to count, all my friends on one hand.
You took them in their teens, you took them very young.
You took them way before, to live they had begun.

Tough streets of Chicago, my tour is almost up.
Tough streets of Chicago, with your gangster posting up.
Tough streets of Chicago, can't get you off my mind.
Tough streets of Chicago, I miss those streets of mine.
Tough streets of Chicago...............................

poem by Rico Avila
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The day we learn how the streets get their names

And plunge into geometry of the sharp blind corners
That live their lives between two dreams
The milimetres of strength might easily dissolve
Into both maps and paths museums at the crossroads
Into the traffic lights helplessly blinking frozen
When the wishes billboard the paths to hell
Or deceptive images of harsh entertainment
For the visitors who say
‘We’re now nice decent people
We no longer look at the dancing bear
Pinned by pokers on fire
Because we’ve learned his macabre pain
Now we put on the gloves
And walk to his Zoo
To ask him for an interview
Though he never said a single word’

The day we learn how the streets get their names
There appears an aphorism of pain
Squeezing a masterpiece address
It pulses ’make way make way for a knock
Without the name you are the dead street
I’ve come to cry with your doorbell ringing
Before the salesman of dreams
Who came just to say hello to the mother
As today he’s got nothing to sell
Not even God for a monthly revenue
Not a single recipe for a happy life
Today he’s come to ask the bedrooms upstairs
About the little boy who wetted the bed
Who hid his nightmares under the matrice
About a matrix design living in a toy box
Among one legged lead soldiers
And the doll girl with the matches
Deflowered under a Christmas tree’

The day we learn how the streets get their names
The trains stop mute on the rails
Blind passengers get off the platforms crack
The squares turn red with tomato revolutions
Flirting with the metaphors of blood
The pools breastfed by the mother courage
Dissolve in the droughts southward beams
And come back with the storks
That deliver no babies

The day we learn how the streets get their names
The walls peel off their paint tearfully looking
For the colour of someone’s eyes
In each pair the wallness to drown

[...] Read more

poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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My Slate Is Clean of Miseries

There is a joy in me I know is seen.
'Cause I'm not uptight.
Looking for a fight,
No!

And if I do have any enemies...
May they live an afterlife,
In a realm that's more acceptible.

I've wiped my slate clean of those miseries.
None I wish to carry,
Or marry to be download.

I've sliced and diced all that away from me.
And I wont slit my wrists...
To bleed in dripping pity!

There is a happiness in me increased.
With a peace of mind I own,
Straight from sorrows I'd adopted.

I've had to learn to be away from disease.
To figure my life out.
And weed away all nonsense,
From my reach.

There is so much joy seen in me that's deep.
'Cause my jaws are not uptight,
Looking for a fight.
No!

And if I do have any enemies,
May they live an afterlife...
In a realm that's more acceptible.

And if I do have any enemies,
May they live an afterlife...
In a realm that's more acceptible.

And if I do have any enemies,
May they live an afterlife...
In a realm that's more acceptible.

And if I do have any enemies,
May they live an afterlife...
In a realm that's more acceptible.

I've wiped my slate clean of their miseries.
None I wish to carry,
Or marry to be download.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
Added by Poetry Lover
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Chicago Sestina

I am surprised by the streets of Chicago
when the palm of winter grips them with snow
as if to forgive the city’s mistakes
and give it a canvas that’s new, white, and clean–
its fingers, the branches on all of the trees
kneading the air that blows in from the lake.

I’ve never lived next to the pulse of the lake
(until I set foot down the side of Chicago)
breathing in through the streets and out through the trees
welcoming the cool of the wet, numbing snow.
It lets my mind slip into thinking it’s clean
as if to personally forgive my mistakes.

“But what have you done to forgive your mistakes? ”
Did I ask this? Or is that the voice of the lake?
Some days, not even does it appear clean,
worn down from its tall standing neighbor, Chicago.
It scrapes at the sky, asking it for more snow
to stick to and freeze the trunks of the trees.

If I were a branch on one of these trees
incapable of making a single mistake,
I’d grab at the sky as it shook out the snow
and grow my roots thick till they tasted the lake.
But I wouldn’t bend to the force of Chicago
that’s constantly keeping me from being clean.

And what does it mean to try to be clean?
I don’t understand the stillness of the trees
when they’re being attacked by the size of Chicago
as if to glorify the city’s mistakes
that glisten like stars at night on the lake
before it all froze and was covered with snow.

Ah! To imagine how long there’s been snow.
How can something this old still feel so clean
and dance through the wind that swoops in from the lake?
Is it the kneading by the spiny branches on trees
trusting that there will be no more mistakes
that leaves these the only pure thing in Chicago?

Here comes the snow that seeks out the trees
Am I now clean? Where are my mistakes?
Chicago belongs where it lay with the lake.

poem by Brian Maloney
Added by Poetry Lover
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