Eighth Avenue Rooming House, Predawn NYC

Lavender backbeat against a neon sky, blazing astral trails across my mind.

Any day now, it'll be eons ago, that I first experienced this phenomenon.

A little kid in a feeble attempt at posing as a man, pounds down a forty 

in a brown paper bag, while standing on a street corner, slicked down with sweat and pain.

Platinum roses fall like snowflakes at dawn, bouncing off the umbrella 

of my consciousness, as a school bus shape shifts into the Yellow Submarine.

Beanstalks on Wall Street soar to Wuthering Heights, as Jack and the Giant 

take a plunge head first into the Dow Jones Industrial. Bulls and bears,  and "Lions and tigers, oh, my"! There's no place like home!

While the City never sleeps, the Devil never weeps. He's too pissed off

to be in touch with his own pain.

Swing lo sweet chariot, and step on it! Take me to the corner of 42nd Street

and 5th Avenue, and leave the meter running!

                       © 2013 Mark Stitz

Reviews

[Pete Langley]

I`ve never been to New York, but inevitably I`ve formed an impression of it as an accumulated chaos of diversity. Your piece just confirms that view, in that my overwhelming image is one of confusion and lack of collective direction - like the ramblings of most poets. That it continues to function as a cohesive community proves me wrong. The citizens make their niche within, yet seem to identify with the whole almost in contradiction to the hubbub going on around them. I enjoyed this piece. P.

[Writer #00]

Beautifully written. I feel like I just walked through an art exhibition.

[Kitt]

Nice allusions in here.

[Mark]

Thanks very much!

[Marco Grabinfeld]

A rambling myopic view of a street corner in any city in the world where the predominant viewpoint is through a poisoned mind.

I don't know what you're trying to say. The picture you paint is confused with imagery that clashes but leaves no sense of message. I want to tell you to sober up and look again and try to explain the differences between what you saw and what you see.

This leaves me with the sense that the author will be committing suicide shortly, and his note will be as devoid of meaning as his life.

You pick interesting topics and have fun with them. I think you've got interesting things to say - they just don't seem to be coming out as powerfully as they could. I want to feel slapped or gut-punched or betrayed when I read this type of poetry. I feel more like I've been randomly splashed by a passing car.

[Mark]

This was all about literary imagery, nothing more, so to try and analyze or look for a message you mistake surrealism for suicide, as this was written years ago , I'm still here. As Sigmund Freud once said"Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar"....But I do thank you for your critique!

[Muse]

While the City never sleeps, the Devil never weeps. He's too pissed off
to be in touch with his own pain.

I would have never guessed, I thought it was pride that made him angry on the inside.

[Mark]

Being that after all , he IS the Devil, maybe he"s"actually proud that he is angry, and doesn't see it as a problem, but never let it be said that I tried to psychoanalyze the Devil, that's far too tempting!

[Mark]

But thanks for the review!

[Muse]

to say we understood him...would make God's creation evil. You are correct..he wants us to feel his anger...it would be his gain.

[Em]

This is so great, I absolutely love your writing.

[Mark]

Thanks so much. That's very kind of you to say so.

[Em]

You're so very welcome.

[k.d. taylor]

I feel the old New York that people have forgotten all about. It's a wonderful piece, I feel almost honored to be able to review it.

[Mark]

Thanks for the kind words. That old time feel was what I was trying to capture.