Poetry by Chris Maloney

Poetry by Chris Maloney

By Chris Maloney

Subway Car

Thus far
This is the cleanest subway car
I ever been in before
No garbage
No stink
No sticky floors
Caused by spilt drink
No writing on the walls
With permanent ink
Everyone is quiet
Giving me a chance to think
No sad homeless
Looking hopeless
No angry people
Or people just looking evil
Just a nice trip from Uptown to Downtown
Hoping it will be the same for the next turn around


DISEASE

Real people starving
So skinny
That they could use their shoulder blades for carving
So bad
So alarming
Friends taking opiates
Now opiates taking my friends
Feels like a never-ending cycle
Confusing even the insightful
Be careful on who you choose to follow
Before becoming their disciple
They say it’s doubtful
But the glass is half full
So, pull your own weight
And take charge like a bull
But take it one day at a time
You’ll find me over there smiling
Drinking seltzer with lime

Perspective

I seek conquest
Yelling, screaming
Drum roll on my chest
Life is hard enough to swallow
Now I must digest
Hearing a whole lot of nonsense
Too tired to throw in my two cents
However
If I want out
All I must do is pull this lever
But I didn’t endeavor all this for nothing
So, I put the pin back in the grenade
I cut the charade
And get back to why I was made
To wield words as if they were a blade
I am brave
Nothing for you to save
Time for me to leave this cave
Clean head
And shave
I’m due for an upgrade
No longer a slave
To the toxins
The chemical
That left my mind unsymmetrical


Christopher Maloney is the end result of standing on street corners, sitting on park benches, and surviving Catholic schools. Writing has been a big part of his life since he was 16 years old. In his back pocket was always a small, hard cover writing pad along with a small pencil. Obviously, now he has a small black iPhone instead. Either way, they both served their purpose. Enabling him to write what he wants and, most important, whenever he wants. The poetry of Bukowski, Whitman, and Poe has become his new religion. He has been published in different literary magazines. He believes this is what he was born to do in life.

Poetry by Dylan Bickers

Poetry by Dylan Bickers

Tomato Afternoon -1944

Tomato Afternoon -1944