lily b. bosman
lily b. bosman is 18 years old, was born and raised in new
york city. she attends the university of new hampshire. she notes
diverse literary influences such as d.a levy, jim carroll, allen
ginsberg, william burroughs, alan kaufman, punk rock, rancid,
the ramones & jonny thunders. "when i'm open minded
almost everything inspires me," she says. this is her first
published work. email@example.com
do you take yr self
lying in the tracks
broken winged goddess
of a glamorous
dressed in translucent lunar illumination
dancing w/ the
rising to rest on
through subwy grates
to mke yr way here
to the lowest level
relying on Buddha & Jesus
to pull you to yr feet
and pat you on yr back
"it's been a hell of a trip, kid
but now yr comin' home"
reality like some supernatural
when the insects in yr mind still
as you crawl too across the tracks
to reach the other side and safety
trying to take it lightly
chin up w/ yr back to the
sitting on the curb &
staring at the moon
smoking and trying to talk to God
and the moon
blinking its midnight eye
challenging me to think my life is really
asking no questions
but the winter night is closing in,
am on a journey. we are
is a personal quest. a road that must be travelled alone.
walk together, alright
we develop the scenery, conquer the silver dragons,
cloud the path with their cynical smoke
fight side by side
we cannot fight for each other. this is a personal quest.
all the towers are collapsing.
all the rivers are over flowing.
this is a periodic cleansing
so we let the water flood our futures
and plant daisies in the mud.
i was a kid i kissed a sea anemone in Spain
was so amazing, pink and white and bright
i kissed it and it stung me, it burnt my lips
left me confused and hurting
been drawn by beauty
chased by its demons ever since
stars are really dead by the time they reach our eyes
their power is not lasting but instead a legacy
looked into the sky and saw it did not stop where her
reached out her hand
it fell a tiny star
she carefully examined and clutched in her
so determined grip
her stood a man
also puzzled at the sky
looked together for a while
in a moment of mutual understanding
turned to him and dropped the star into his palm
smiled and began to fade
light was hers.
the wind blows the dust in our eyes
and our tears fall on the bare ashes of our story.
we plant lilies in the mud.
journey is a long one.
does not end but transforms.
you find yr self at the beginning again
time has changed the landscape
time has changed you
in the mud we trace our modern hierogliphics
we draw life and love and infinity
we draw because there are no words and never have been.
are the children of a confused myth
are the children of a dreamers dream
are the children of an endless Eye
we are the children, pumping the worlds heart with our own blood
on the concrete gutters,
we grow dandelions in the mud.
When I heard you got shot
Honestly I wasn't sure if you were who I thought you were
But then I remembered
You were like me
All grown up on TV and rebellions promises
still afraid of yr shadow and yr 3 a.m hostility
They shot you over some mysterious missing coke
Cause you blew lines in their face and wanted to be a man
Soul sick in the alley
You died like a man to the untrained eye
But you died like a little boy to me
I died a hundred times in the quiet nights of my midnight missing
Thought I'd find it like you
In the little plastic bags of god for 10 and heaven for 20.
I've seen all the lower east side boys that thought they were
I've seen i'm married and living in Jersey and
Swearing they're not boys but gods,
I've seen their wives
Babies having babies
with the pregnant maternal light
in the shadows helpless and yearning for some way out of
inescapable fate we all said we wanted.
all saw coming but didn't really think.
The city lights and fractured future
The east river swelling up and flooding the Brooklyn streets
Washing yr blood off the concrete leaving yr memory traced in
water marks on
Brown stone buildings and parking lots that were yr streets,
I remember you in a haze. You walked into Ben's room,
Always after I'd had my shot, offered my services,
You always seemed so big to stand in this 6 by 6 box,
But so small when my arms were bleeding
And my soul was smoking.
You seemed so innocent.
A part of the madness by default but not by intention.
Didn't you know that that's the price we pay,
The cost of junkies and their lies.
Couldn't you see me and Ben, broken and bleeding
Fucking for fucks sake and
Is that what you wanted?
Shot over some war of pride
And the battle for oblivion.
Can she be saved?
The universe is whispering
Leafless trees w/ their
Winter fingers are
awaiting a verdict
Nothing is forever
The planets are marching
Dropping stars from their
In their dance around the sun
And smirking : nature v. nature
v. Human Nature
We don't know what we don't know
Can she be saved?
How can she not?
My fingers shine with a toxic
That is sometimes hope and sometimes hopeless
We live in levels
Stacked on top of each other
Lit with florescent dreams
sleep with the
Behind our eyelids
Watch the show
seen on TV"
kids growing up on
and softer hair.
This is our world, after all.
We made it. Inadvertently, maybe,
We chose these controversies. We developed these systems.
Now we choose to complain.
Spinning and rushing through space so full and empty and
We recognize only what we see, what we can reach and
The rest is just...
In the city the buildings
Fall always, drifting down the Hudson river.
And as the city dies, the police force grows and grows.
In response, the syringes replace the sky scrapers.
There needles shooting promises and enticing our city
To choose sides.
Grab a bat grab a brick
Love this world enough to save it
Or love it enough to
The flambuoyant business men float,
Clime out of the river and lay against the concrete shore.
They say this war has another force.
The law, the lost, the loaded.
Those exempt and swear money
is food and freedom and future
We agree, backs against the wall eyes glowing with
Waging a war for what -- we forgot.
And winning in the shadows as we get over and get off once again
On a ten dollar bag bought with blood.
Poem 3: Blue trees:
i'm starting to feel more and more
wandering through this woods at night i am not
used to woods
I am used to sky scrapers scraping the midnight sky
Not used to stars, i'm used to stars plucked from there light
Residing in windows burning
Yellow/orange in October midtown
i am starting to feel like i am disappearing,
when i wake up i cannot feel my arms,
i flail them violently, i hit them against the wall
i am loosing my arms to my dreams
i am loosing my heart to yr weekends.
My mind i don't trust.
My gut, everyone says i've got a good gut, scares me.
i am wandering over roots, thick roots, wet and reflecting the
the light of the night
my eyes are big, they are not blue but they are bright
and wet and reflecting the light, the night, the moon
i have never walked these woods before but they seem familiar,
i have felt
like i am disappearing
i wipe my face with cold hands
my eyes smear
their sparkles, their light
drips down my cheeks,
arms stretched in front of me
i can't feel them
my knuckles hit the
trunks of old blue trees
trees that are only solid night, not life
Tangible darkness, my head
Encircled by an orange halo
My feet move without
Hesitation over the
i do not have shoes but have toe nail polish
i never had orgasms
Always just went completely numb (and thought 'is this it?' )
I remember the feeling of my eyes disappearing.
This is so familiar, but with you I didn't disappear
I saw darkness, I saw stars, I don't remember exactly
I felt my head exploding
And my body twitched & you
Were looking at me.
'are you okay?'
I did not disappear then, but now i am
Running through the forest
W/ no arms and nowhere to go.
How else can I say "I can't feel myself anymore?"
GOD DOES NOT SPEAK THROUGH
YR COMPUTER PERSONALITY
IS NOT REAL
WHEN YOU CLOSE YR EYES ARE
YOU AFRAID OF THE SHAPES THAT
MAKE YR WORLD?
WHEN YOU LOOK AT YR WATCH
DO YOU BELIEVE?
MY REALITY IS MORE REAL
THOUGH I'VE BEEN DELUSIONAL &
LICKED THE PAVEMENT OF A VERY FINE CITY
I'VE DANCED ON
WINTER ROOF TOPS
KISSED THE SUN AS A
CHILD WITH A PLAN
& A DREAM
YOU LIE THERE BENEATH
& PRAY FOR
I CUT YR MAGAZINES