Tired

The entire world is tired.

No matter where I go:

     people are yawning,

     eyes closed, microsleeping.

And can you blame them?

With a culture that expects so much,

     one that deprives us of bedtimes,

     it is like an unfaithful lover.

Sometimes it pleases us with its honesty,

     its fulfillment; it wants to keep you satisfied.

But then, like rain in Southern California,

     it is quickly gone, left you for something else.

And now you lay awake in this dry heat,

     you are desolate and empty;

     crying out for comfort and rest,

     to whoever might hear your voice.

Although these efforts are wasted,

     for there are no angels in Los Angeles

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

"Although these efforts are wasted,
for there are no angels in Los Angeles"
I have been to the city of Angels. The above lines are true. I like the honest thoughts leading to the strong ending. Life can be hard. We need to find time to escape the city and find people who are alive. Thank you for sharing your poetry. I like the poetry of the city. The big city leave us too busy and tire. A excellent poem.
Coyote

[j.l. luna]

It's definitely difficult to live in a big city and get lost in it. I don't live in the big city but on an outskirt of it and there aren't any angels here either. Where do you reside?

[Coyote Poetry]

In Michigan. Clinton Twp. is a small town. Close to Detroit and close to the forest and lakes.