NYC Poetry

Deeply Faded

heel-toe AM Manhattan jaunt
up pissy dogshit avenues

neon sneakers dodge
poop smears on the sidewalk

bright new sun
the shade is clean
and blue
under the trees in Central Park

the benches beg me to sit
but I fear the sperm
of homeless loony men
who diddle themselves darkly at night

barely able to contain my stupid smile
grinning sideways
cutting along 85th
to the Westside

but the City of New York
she who is not amused,
collectively smirks at me
while pantomiming the
jack-off motion

 

©2014 John Thomas Menesini

PIGEONS ARE A MUTATION OF PEACOCK & RAT

the mad
bummy men
tote trash bags
bulging

along
Union Square
block walkway

decades
of piss
in stiff
trousers
waft

electric gestures
animated

make points
to those
I cannot see

schizophrenic
town square
barkers

boast
of black helicopter
illuminati

fevered points
thrust
into my captive lap

“men who walked on air, yo
I don’t know, yo

that exorcist shit, yo
fuckin dude
walked on air, tho

all that
all that shit, yo

this planet

the aliens
among us, yo

like that hidden opening
the one underground

has been there
for 6000 years, bro”

 

 

 

©2014 John Thomas Menesini

A POEM FOR WSB

well

you can’t come
like

you can’t write
&

coma sea
shall see
her sold shells
slur

blown bitter shots
& half swollen
cocks

horny over
Beethoven’s choral
joyode

angelic ascent
of golden burst

then scratch
ballskin
pinched between
two fingers

grey skies
look back
unafraid

slow-mo birdwing

tree branch
in the faint wind
blinks

eye lashes
that frame
the sky’s sclera

toothless ghosts
of 103rd & Broadway

benches worn smooth
under the eternal
waiting
junky ass

blank as farts
as old man balls
like

the sundried brother on the pier
in the shade

along
the Harlem River
who was nodding

napping

or dying