Poetry by Shlomo Franklin

​                    Singer-songwriter, Shlomo Franklin, deeply inspired by the poet troubadours of yesteryear, Dylan, Young, Cohen, like many a songwriter before him, also writes poems on the side. Songwriting and poetry have always been, at the very least, close in nature, if not pure soul mates. Franklin has the spirit of the beats and Dylan's book Tarantula winds its way through these four poems of love gone wrong, aching and observing, not overly sentimental, street wise and a little homesick for "Somewhere sacred."



// Yours //

I am not yours anymore

April, 26th and the year doesn't matter
I am not yours anymore
This is me saying goodbye
Farewell into the forest
Into the long night
May you sleep or lay awake until 8 AM
I don't care

I am not yours anymore

I don't think of you every time I see the sunset these days
I don't recall your kiss when my head meets the pillow
I don't miss you on long drives
I don't reach out for your hand when I see a storm coming
I don't need you

I am not yours anymore

I'll read this once more for the moon in the meadow
I'll let the cows hear me clear
Let the spring peepers know I mean it
Make the muskrat see I'm serious

I am not yours anymore





// Bowery Electric Blues //

Here's to another night on the bowery
Alone and happy as ever
She's in fur coat shaved head elegant
Bad weather
The theater's packed and the tiny Italian restaurant is crowded beyond capacity
Her wants me to entice her with wine and sad stories
And all I need is a friend
Or something resembling Brigitte Bardot
New York's no longer too big for me
The street's asleep due to unpopular demand
she's in the car waiting to take me to sleepy heaven

God bless this meaninglessness
Blame it on the most beautiful Mexicans I've ever met
She wants me to bend her over in an alley behind East 1st Street but I'm all the way across town
Chasing rumors and regulations of memories and Chinese miracles

There's hot yoga across the street
My mind's a thousand miles off
Dozing in Arizona desert sand
She's cowgirl in the back of a rental car in mistaken identities and silver screens from a million miles ago

I'm not even dreaming
It's all transparent

You could touch it and let it burn your fingertips off
They won't be able to catch you now
Happening two feet from my face
Now she's kissing me without ever having made eye contact
The child is asking for help
or a cigarette or a dollar
I don't listen anymore
It's all too much to bear
My ears aren't big enough
Too much crying
Sandwich shop is packed
People must be in need of sandwiches
They're in need of a lot of other stuff too
Snowflakes cover the bicycle on 2nd Street and I'm not sure if it's snow or rain but whatever it is I love it
She's got an umbrella
I prefer the elements
There's a French flag hanging from the fire escape two floors up across the street
There's a flowerpot and an old lady that doesn't want to talk to anyone
I don't blame her
The neon sign lets the weary passerby know there's a cafe and they'll sell you anything you might need for only 26% above cost
I don't want to go in there
Gonna go somewhere else
Far away
I'll be back though
As soon as I'm awake again





// Airmont Eats My Soul Away //

I'd finally gotten to the end of the marathon
There were no flags or flashing lights
No balloons no fireworks
Just a noisy morning and bad coffee

I'd come to the end of my past and it wasn't glamorous
It was just quiet and looked like nothing
I was tired
Felt like I could sleep for seventy years

The neon signs and Tylenol nightmares had finally gotten to me
The diner served bad birthday cake and the soundtrack came right out of the wrong decade

My knees were bruised and my mind was numb
I knew nothing
Heard nothing
Didn't see much of anything either

Felt like I could listen to Ben Webster and not feel a thing
My senses were asleep and everyone drove Cadillacs and Fords

The news was on
Picture of a kid
Probably killed somebody or robbed a corner deli
Didn't make a difference
I didn't have the heart to get bagels

Romance was in purgatory

The cliffs were angelic at night but that all faded away by the time morning came around

I forgot where I was headed
Knew I'd come from somewhere important but couldn't quite put my finger on where or why I had left for that matter

I was at my wit's end
I couldn't tell a joke to save my life
Was shooting blanks
I was trigger happy but that didn't effect anyone or anything

I looked through the acid rain window into the afternoon
and saw kids all happy in their Neanderthal pajamas

There wasn't a full cloud in the sky
A crow sat uselessly on a hemlock
The hills beyond the nursing homes were lonely and ill advised

Dunkin donuts was sold out
The power lines were exhausted

I knew I had to leave
Knew I couldn't leave for a while
Maybe a week maybe a year
But I'd be gone one early Monday morning and that would be the end of it all
The end of my past
I'd even do an encore if anyone cared
I'd cut the tail off the dog and just leave it there in broad daylight

I'd mow the lawn, trim the hedges, paint the house and be gone.
That was that and I'd settle my torture

I'd move to California or Paris.
Somewhere sacred.
A place that would buy me at least a year before I'd discover all its imperfections
Notice the stretch marks, bad habits, and emotional unavailability.

I wasn't happy but I was okay
Good enough to go home





// Brighten Beach Postcard //

I watch her resent the cascade of everyday life
Listening intently to the whimper and whisper of the unsolicited pavement
I didn't ask for this
Didn't ask to pay my taxes
Didn't ask to leave womb
Don't want to see the daylight today
Leave it all on the banister
Roads are paved with useless sidewalks

I don't want to look at anybody
                            Just you
Only your face
With your eyes that put everyone else's gaze to shame
Your lips acting like a gateway to somewhere I want to be
Meeting every weekend on the corner of forever & always
Watching you near the brink of what used to be and what could be
Endless possibilities disguised as riddles with answers acting as problems
"No shortcuts in life" your mother says
No shortcut to your heart
Just the long path
Lined with ancient flowerbeds and long live the king rituals
          I say way too much in my dreams
          Kissing you is better than dreaming

I hope all the good in the world for you

Bio: Shlomo Franklin grew up in Bethel, New York. He soon developed his own style of music inspired by the neighboring grounds of Woodstock. His musical influence includes Neil Young, Bob Dylan, Nirvana and Johnny Cash. Shlomo Franklin is a touring musician whose music can be found on  Bandcamp. shlomofranklin.bandcamp.com/

www.shlomofranklin.com/

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Photo: Jesse Flamand

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