Yesterday, 03:09 PM
(10-11-2025, 04:25 AM)Deor Ana Log Wrote: City of Angels/ScreensCity of Angels/Screens
I awaken banging the glass breaking Los Angeles
From subway to street, block to ceiling, score to scene
My dreams are parents screwing in the perception seat
To the family carriage of bittersweet legacy
Tapping my nails past and forth liquor stores
Icy cracks keep my dignity while sirens stare
One, Two palms tiptoe by bonnet mascots and broken doors
Sipping, slipping, sagging my ideas are a shooting range
Lost in the people forged from change
Self sabotaging no matter the pain
While my actions chant, “I am just the ordinary”
City of Angels/Scenes
Stay Awake, Los Angeles is the break
Waiting for the faith of libraries and churches-
My cul-de-sac is a dumping ground of purpose
Skipping and sliding through sticky concrete
Locality is lost in my pale image of grease
Culver Steps, Santa Monica Pier, PCH,
Are enclaves that fortify our sleepless days
And frozen in the fringe of "outside" LA
City of Angels and Centuries
Los Angeles: Wake UP
To this centuries-old city we inherit
The past isn’t a mirror, it’s a staircase of merit
I am the sum of an immigrant mother
White skin covers my Asian roots under
So why am I seen as the system that kills color?
“I can feel all I want, I just can’t suffer”
“And everything I inherited made me other”
City of Angels - Salary
As I awaken, I gesture to the Angel City
Too moved to look beyond her face
As boba shops and thrift stores wars of wage
We spend every moment in different days
Just to get through, a higher pay, a PERFECT grade
“Pay respects, then pay up” they all internally say
We brush it off, blinded by being safe, but the life map stays -
You won’t remember now until it’s too late
Won’t indulge in this present like a treat to taste
City of Angels - Silence
I lay awake woven into the sheets of Los Angeles
Seeing, Sorry, sorry
Sweat lining chapped lips that curve up
Attached to an Abbot Kinney walker
Was that poodle her own pup?
That bomber jacket is a hero’s cape but smaller
Glittery green, a gaping tear, drenched in water
Silence is my Scream, so that’s how we speak
Why is February 14th, another day of need?
City of Angels and Sections
I awake in this City of Angels, without a choice
Knowing change collects without final voice
As power shifts from skin tone to skin tone
There are imperfections on every pot of gold
Too silent or sweating to let people just know
That racism is all the colors of the rainbow
With every cycle of human history as my defense
Surface level revenge is wrong in every sense
We boil down to more than simple skin
Boil us down and we are humans within
City of Answers
I see more eyes open than ideas awakened
Tears in sunrises deeper than caskets not vacant
Why is this ideal city flooded by idealists?
Who pool the soles of every surrealist
When did depth become ancient?
Let’s dance in the disco ball of American accidents
In Santa Monica Sunsets soiling an air of action
In this almost answered world, let us be the accents
City of Action
Learners burn out hour by hour
Their actions really objects of power
Lead in inspiration not expectations
Lock away the ever evolving keyhole of despite
Embrace the surrounding, instead of keeping quiet
And be proud of the people who “aren’t quite”
So focused on becoming we forget to be
So why do quiet ones still believe?
City of History
City of Reticence
City of Dreams
I awaken in a Los Angeles, I hope we never leave
Illuminating middle grounds I strive to see
Children sprinkling poppy seeds from Hollywood to Venice Beach
Let’s turn this city of silence into one of screams
WAKE UP, it’s EVERY street’s time to speak
So I let dust collect my diary
Awaken, lie, down, sleep
Cap a corked up week
Flame ignited not grieved
Feel the length of time
Brushing one cheek
Knotted by sublime in heat
Nape frowning in fiery defeat
City of Angels (To Much To Be)
City of Angels/Come/To/Me
Waking breaking script to find
sidewalk to street concrete mind
City of Angels/Scenes
Watching waiting libraries churches
skipping sliding sticky purpose
City of Angels - and Centuries
To this centuries-old city we inheritThe past isn’t a mirror, it’s a staircase of merit
City of Angels - Salary
As boba shops and thrift stores wars of wage
We spend every moment in different days
City of Angels - Silence
Sweat lining chapped lips that curve up
Was that poodle her own pup?
City of Angels and Sections
I awake in this City of Angels, without a choice
Knowing change collects without final voice
City of Answers
Why is this ideal city flooded by idealists?
Who pool the soles of every surrealist
City of Action
Learners burn out hour by hour
Their actions really objects of power
City of History
City of Reticence
City of Dreams
I awaken in a Los Angeles, I hope we never leave
City of Angels (To Much To Be)
City of Angels/Come/To/Me
For me, the original feels sprawling and incoherent; it hasn’t found a centre, rhythmically or aesthetically. This edit may seem drastic, but it seems that in your piece the sheer pleasure of writing has become its own purpose and justification. The impression I have in this piece, is that the atmosphere/experience of personal, sensual gratification in your act of speech has momentarily created the illusion of coherent meaning—because the original experience was meaningful to you. As it stands, though, for me, the poem lacks a recognisable pattern, purpose or direction.