SAN FRAN

…
So many pieces of the puzzle, there is no need to hide
but they were lost, caught in nets on Pier 39
Like an unfaithful son on the day of his bride
the colours of this city run and they rhyme
Pollock might say its a bit of a daub
until each piece he numbered
Pasted my memories in a red, paper book
there, all bands all should have names like Doctor Hook,
Flying Burrito Brothers, Jefferson Airplane
Hate was spelt Haight in that part of town
and the clever kids all wore a Berkeley frown
Nathalia my friend she dressed in a sexy gown
We walked for miles up and down and there
across the green in pastel colours
that row of little houses, little boxes
A little Malvina Milder/Reynolds maybe loved
when she was a small Jewish daughter
wandered into the famous Chinese quarter
Union Square and Macy’s, the photo’s are coming fast
We take a trip out to the Bridge
don’t drive too fast or blink, in this mist
even International Red will blur
and that massive Bay is slipping past
No time for Vertigo or to take a Bullitt for the team
In hippie land, now a spiring concrete forest,
or among those massive Redwoods
on the other side, its still the best place you can dream
If little cable cars don’t quite drive you to the stars
if your tired hop on, the corporation
will not charge you until you sing Your Song
The corporation will not warn you of the people down below
the street of shame where each dog born had a different name
yet now in cardboard, rags and jumble they sound the plain same
Step out on the street over homes and yet your room was cute
high-ceilinged estate, ornamental cornice,
bed linen tasteful, great, without a crease,
Air conditioned, sound-proofed, high windows barred
you could be living now on Mars
except your worried as you walk the line
Those inhabitants of boxes down the lane
those aliens of shame
will get in your face again
let the booze loose
exhalate their pain
So we sat one night in John’s Grill to consider where we’d been
what we had seen, with 2 free glasses of water
edenbraytoday
17.11.2020
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About edenbray
I am a writer ... a beat poet who began writing poetry way back in 1966 ... 'edenbray is born ugly, wet, covered in blood, mucous & bodily functions, the effluence of my short life' ... I recently published my 1st solo Anthology - the best of 60 years writing - previously I ran my own Art Supplies Store for 40 yrs before I became a full-time writer I am a Blogger who has posted 1,000 poems - available in 24 themed booklets ... please ask for details + leave a 'like' or a comment for my encouragement, thank you so much for listening - I truly value your opinion on my work ~ in fact I literally survive on your creative input ~ edenbray
SAN FRAN
SAN FRAN
…
So many pieces of the puzzle, there is no need to hide
but they were lost, caught in nets on Pier 39
Like an unfaithful son on the day of his bride
the colours of this city run and they rhyme
Pollock might say its a bit of a daub
until each piece he numbered
Pasted my memories in a red, paper book
there, all bands all should have names like Doctor Hook,
Flying Burrito Brothers, Jefferson Airplane
Hate was spelt Haight in that part of town
and the clever kids all wore a Berkeley frown
Nathalia my friend she dressed in a sexy gown
We walked for miles up and down and there
across the green in pastel colours
that row of little houses, little boxes
A little Malvina Milder/Reynolds maybe loved
when she was a small Jewish daughter
wandered into the famous Chinese quarter
Union Square and Macy’s, the photo’s are coming fast
We take a trip out to the Bridge
don’t drive too fast or blink, in this mist
even International Red will blur
and that massive Bay is slipping past
No time for Vertigo or to take a Bullitt for the team
In hippie land, now a spiring concrete forest,
or among those massive Redwoods
on the other side, its still the best place you can dream
If little cable cars don’t quite drive you to the stars
if your tired hop on, the corporation
will not charge you until you sing Your Song
The corporation will not warn you of the people down below
the street of shame where each dog born had a different name
yet now in cardboard, rags and jumble they sound the plain same
Step out on the street over homes and yet your room was cute
high-ceilinged estate, ornamental cornice,
bed linen tasteful, great, without a crease,
Air conditioned, sound-proofed, high windows barred
you could be living now on Mars
except your worried as you walk the line
Those inhabitants of boxes down the lane
those aliens of shame
will get in your face again
let the booze loose
exhalate their pain
So we sat one night in John’s Grill to consider where we’d been
what we had seen, with 2 free glasses of water
edenbraytoday
17.11.2020
Share this:
Like this:
Related
About edenbray
I am a writer ... a beat poet who began writing poetry way back in 1966 ... 'edenbray is born ugly, wet, covered in blood, mucous & bodily functions, the effluence of my short life' ... I recently published my 1st solo Anthology - the best of 60 years writing - previously I ran my own Art Supplies Store for 40 yrs before I became a full-time writer I am a Blogger who has posted 1,000 poems - available in 24 themed booklets ... please ask for details + leave a 'like' or a comment for my encouragement, thank you so much for listening - I truly value your opinion on my work ~ in fact I literally survive on your creative input ~ edenbray