Harold lives contentedly, his neighbors not included.
He sees their dreams of grandeur, grandly self-deluded.
Locals squirm and shiver, don’t know how to dress amid the general squalor.
Harold Haberdasher goes to work, grabs stumbling apple jacks by the collar,
Turns them into genuine gentlemen
Even gentle Benjamin
With his quirky regimen
Of gritty diner coffee and high voltage special Ks,
His lucky charms of power for surviving lightless days.
Crack sidewalk traffic staggers, this street life ain’t for kids
It’s iron-taste-in-the-mouth nonexistence on these back alley skids.
Lillian at dVerse Poets Pub asked for some brand name noodling. My inspiration was Special K which as most of you will know is street language for the horrible drug Ketamine. I mixed up the rhyme scheme to match the mixed up world of the setting.
Oh this is so sad… the drugs that change kids into something else. Especially love the last line… excellent writing
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I sadly admit, in my naivety, I did not know the street meaning of “special K.” Sadly, now I do. Your rhyming scheme is wonderfully done here — you set the scene well with details. Those last two lines are literally killers.
Well done!
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Nicely descriptive: “iron-taste-in-the-mouth nonexistence”
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Wow, this is a powerful street poem with a syncopated beat!
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This poem really moved me. It is beautifully written and it resonated with me!
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”iron-taste-in-the-mouth non existence..” that is such an evocative line, Jo-Anne. Sometimes the body and mind can conjure inexplicable tastes and smells and emotional responses to situations, and that evokes one of them for me. As someone said above, it’s a killer line. Well penned.
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John, thanks so much for popping over and reading this. I always appreciate comments but yours are even a bit more special. Hugs!
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