Classism, Apparent

(Written October 2016)

I see it everywhere. No, really, like, everywhere.

Just like heat evaporates hot water, a heated discussion between any two strangers always comes down to money.

The bigger the bag you carry to work, the lower of a class you belong to.

The way you get to work, the way you’re dressed, puts the haves and have nots on display

We’re all a part of it, this ugly, pyramidal structure that we see every working day.

I’m so desensitized to homeless people wasting away, little by little, right in front of me, but what do I do? Keep my gaze forward, and keep moving, ’cause ‘I got work to do.’

We all have a place to be, to show up by a certain time, and drive the money up for someone else, higher up;

Profits trickle down, sure, but by the time the fresh bounty of ‘profits’ travel to the lowest level,

the paupers have to hang on tight to their earnings while the white-suited man a top the watch tower sips on his gin and mutters under his breath ‘those degenerates need to get it together.’

This is a capitalist’s world, where money is god, and the more ‘god’ you have, the more of a god you are. – RSM

Bossa Nova and Chill

(Inspired by The Night Has A Thousand Eyes by Paul Desmond)

– for the sophisticated couch potato in me.

A glass of Trader Joe’s finest bottle of Cabernet Savignon (and cheapest!)

along with a freshly mixed bag of my own trail mix,

a romantically frugal evening draws to a close.

 

Bossa Nova Radio serenades us,

as a soothing saxophone sends sensual sounds swimming along my spine,

showing my shoulder blades the same song.

It’s a toe tap from a couple of generations back – slow, but provocative;

a smooth, rhythmic invitation to relax with the classics,

to emit some elegance out of that nice sound system of yours.

A mellow contrast; a painting amidst photographs. – RSM

The Night Sky on Take Off

(Written August 8, 2018)

A perfect storm of clear skies make way for crystal clear streetlights

to dot the earth with grid shaped tattoos,

and if even if one or two blow a fuse, the pattern holds strong.

And all along the rising spiral off the runway

I’m reminded of how beautiful it is to fly. – RSM

Dance Loud

(Written December 27, 2017)

Let loose. Move to the beat, or way off beat, who cares?

That’s the point.

Whether you’re on a crowded, douchy, $30 cover dance floor,

Or a 1 person army, taking your living room by siege, let it all out.

Dance big. Dance loud.

Be the wackiest person in sight if you have to.
Be the wackiest person in sight if you want to.

Drown out the music with amplified moves.

Make the ground shake.

Make heads spin, while making your head spin.

Be your body’s DJ. – RSM

A Comfortable Silence

(Written November 6, 2017)

Going home via subway after a long day.

Energy depleted, memory hazy,

but its quite quiet, nothing crazy,

Just a hum of the tracks we’re gliding on,

and the weight of the world coming off our shoulders.

A Fall Sunday morning, and rain is falling, a calm, unmatched.

A colorless, weightless, shapeless onslaught, cool to the touch;

the sky is opaque, and I feel as each rain drop is a part of me. – RSM

Flying Free.

(Written August 14, 2017)

No look-backs, no worries.

Head up, arms spread wide,

Shooting through the wind; that’s how I feel.

It’s pretty easy nowadays to soar through rainclouds,

piercing through monsoons of gloom that used to leave me saturated, consumed. – RSM

As Roots Branch Out..

… the firmly planted plants grow stronger, in all directions –

At their base, the close-knit underground structure grows deeper,

and the young ones up top grow and bloom, blossom and loom over the sunny days,

fully aware of the world around them and its possibilities.

Perhaps the wind will take them somewhere far someday, these seedlings,

off the leaves of the branches of the old, wise tree they’ve grown from.

Perhaps they’ll fall right next to it, the seedlings to their source, and join a skyline of green,

shoulder-to-shoulder, shading the older and younger trees alike.

As many fish in our seas, there are branches and trees,

Forming new forests, while the old ones grow strong;

and they will all rise, fall, and become new again. – RSM