4/17/2017 1 Comment 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/ Photo: Jesse Flamand
1 Comment
8/5/2017 02:05:12 am
Shlomo,you are a talented young man,and so glad our paths crossed. Friends I once thought of as friends can disappoint, when you find out their needs are just that. I exude love
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