I'll always remember seeing Grateful Dead shirts being worn as a child.
Imagining how great they must sound,
If they could produce these vivid colors on t-shirts.
Boy was I wrong.
My mind did not explode like I thought it would.
I was mildly disappointed.
Oh well.
I'm an 80's/90's kid.
What's another band to find?
Nowadays I'm older.
I can at least appreciate it.
Without taking LSD.
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You are authorized to view and share poems, as long as due credit is given. All poetry, words or phrases given are written by DENA DERAKHSHAN.
Tuesday, July 22, 2014
Sunday, July 20, 2014
The Economics of It All
He was born rich.
Growing up he knew it with all his heart.
It's been a surreal experience. To say the least.
The voyage he knew he would start.
And not knowing where he'd end up.
One thing he knew, though.
That he would be rich someday.
And with that,
Money became worthless.
He could buy anything,
But still felt empty.
Even so, currency consumed his time.
His thoughts and dreams.
In youth he only knew situations financially.
The last few years he became richer than his wildest dreams.
He was a big fish in a small pond.
He had achieved it early.
As an adult, a bonafide real adult,
Real ideas started pouring about where he could go,
and how to get there.
His richness grew,
In ideas and thinking unconventionally.
With that he says:
Nobody loves money.
And he hates hearing, "money over everything".
Money is an idea, of paper and digital bits.
That paper is a person's worth.
It's not what they have in their mind,
Their heart, their soul.
Numbers type up on a bank statement.
And we think "security".
Here's what he thinks of security:
What if?
What. If.
Everyone could have nice things?
What. If.
A sick person gets taken care of?
What. If.
A hungry person is fed?
What. If.
We were already who we wanted to be?
And no monetary value would change that?
That's rich.
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
Welcome to Hollywood
A city with this many people and I still feel alone...
I'm sure you're thinking, "This doesn't sound like the Hollywood I know of." and of course it doesn't.
The glamorized moving pictures you see on the screen can make a hooker in Pretty Woman look appealing.
Dreams are big in this town. Here or New York is where you go for a chance at it all.
All these dreams and only so many of them can be fulfilled.
Problem is there are backstabbers and fakes, just like the villains in the movies they portray.
I'm sure you're thinking "Who are you to try to shape my views?", and you're right. I'm nobody.
The old times, it was who you knew and what you did with the opportunity you were given.
And I knew everybody, but I never took a real chance to prove I had a voice.
Commercialization, post-modernization, and formulaic shock value. And this is considered art.
The Hitchcocks, the Lean's, The Peckinpah's, The Chaplin's, they're all gone.
Today, everyone dictates like they're Hitler.
These so called artists want to rule, to make the rules, but never in a million years will they follow them.
A day's work used to get you a day's pay. You didn't need to kiss ass to go up in the ranks of men.
You just showed talent and courage. Now the entire city is my battlefield. And right here, I'm in the goddamn lousy warzone.
I've lived here for many years and starved.
Its the hard life daily or no life at all - for dreamers.
When the going gets tough, the tough get going, but that's not me.
I've accepted that's who I am and I'm OK with it.
Sunday, July 6, 2014
Writers Anonymous
Hi everyone. My name is Danny D.
I've been writing since I was a teenager. When everyone else would throw away their poetry after English class, I would go home and rewrite it until I could no more.
I speak in slang around friends, but the written word must have a social order.
Nothing is as strong as my addiction to words crafted together.
I've been writing since I was a teenager. When everyone else would throw away their poetry after English class, I would go home and rewrite it until I could no more.
I speak in slang around friends, but the written word must have a social order.
Nothing is as strong as my addiction to words crafted together.
Saturday, July 5, 2014
Alco Hall
Alco Hall,
How much I love you.
You've made me sexy, you gave me confidence,
To go talk to that girl in the black dress.
Liquid. Courage. And my deception.
Do I booze it up?
Do you smell it on me?
I just want you to rock my world one more time.
A great friend.
He had good direction,
Bad acting.
His name is Al. Kaholic.
It's a German last name.
Kaholic.
But he only drinks French wine,
And Coors Light.
I'm going to sleep early now,
But really it's 4a.m.
To sleep late is to sleep early in the morning.
My BAC is a thousand.
I might throw up.
How much I love you.
You've made me sexy, you gave me confidence,
To go talk to that girl in the black dress.
Liquid. Courage. And my deception.
Do I booze it up?
Do you smell it on me?
I just want you to rock my world one more time.
A great friend.
He had good direction,
Bad acting.
His name is Al. Kaholic.
It's a German last name.
Kaholic.
But he only drinks French wine,
And Coors Light.
I'm going to sleep early now,
But really it's 4a.m.
To sleep late is to sleep early in the morning.
My BAC is a thousand.
I might throw up.
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