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Foreign Girls

Pretty faces,
Midnight races,
Foreign places,
Caught in the bustle of this craziness,

Lost in translation,
Is an understatement,
Of a state of mind so tragic,

That's the feeling,
Lights of the main street,
So blinding,
Foreign girls,
So intimidating,
Getting heavy,
Cool breaking,
Now I'm faking.

But the wind is so gentle,
So I mellow,
A midst the vapor,
Emotions taper,

Charms immortalized in paper,
Sacred rituals of seduction,
Evident here,
Ways never change,
As they blush and giggle,
Around the hero,

The deadbeats left alone,
To cry and wonder about face beauty,
But that was never the goal or premise of reality,

The mortal deities we yearn for,
Who glimmer and linger,
While the real roses whither,

It's sad that you can speak more tragedy and philosophy with the impure,

But never mind all that,
The zealots will walk aimlessly,

Painfully we'll go down,
A boulevard of foreign laughter.

Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
How does this theme appeal to you?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Editing stage: 


but I'm afraid it's just not my style of poetry. I will confess to its possessing a certain degree of raw power, but it's out of my league.

W. H. Snow

A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds. Percy Bysshe Shelley

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Hi Wesley,

Thanks for reading. I understand that it may not be everyone's particular cup of tea, but nevertheless, I appreciate your feedback.

author comment

rhapsody of words..
I remember the cool and hard hitters
hanging with the femme de fatales
laying at their feet
but then I chummed with the disciplined
Validictorian and second in line smartest with a fifty and one average
in basket weaving...
maybe I was no challenge
creative bent was all I had...

years later after sitting in bars
coffee shops and self help
life still goes on
society is as was will be...

muses though forever
shall be special
and Lovers..
ahh another story
a different web

Im old enough to be
old school and trying
to be hip to the new
although at Fifty
its hard to try to
absorb the twenty
and up worlds...
span is short..
so I can remember
twenty easily..

A fine poem I find
I like its weaving
and textual

Thank You!

Thanks a bunch Esker! This one was a bit tricky, took me a few days to work it out. Rhythm has always been a bit difficult for me, but for this it was about trying to find the right words to achieve the structure, pace, and feel that I wanted. Thanks again for reading!

author comment

..............of nights out in the 1980's, and it was a scene I never felt comfortable in, so I stopped going altogether.

I enjoyed this read, thanks for helping me return to my 20's.


"Death" is nonsense: what is there to die?
"Life"? How could " life" "die"? That is a contradiction
in terms. Can "light" become "darkness"?
"Light" can only cease to be apparent

Wei Wu Wei

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