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Author Archives: marcofreschi

About marcofreschi

I live in the Ocean and write poetry

Requiem for the Suburbanite Knights of Union County

Another day begins in the asphalt sprawl As the leaves turn brown, dry, die and fall

and urbanite saints sweat in old paint-stained overalls

covering cinder-block walls with honey-dew hues and cleaning out pissed-on bathroom stalls;

More Trailer park homes and Willowbrook Malls, Uncles ashamed to answer telephone calls.

Another dawn of teenage tragedies that go on behind closed doors,

More of the same rat-trap allure for the television-drunk media whores,

the advertisement junkies, who get high on polished J crew clothing,

and sales expanded from self-loathing, artificial desire to stay cool, stay Hip,

More of the same Lisa Fitz heartaches and Community College blues,

alcoholic mothers, fathers, brothers, lovers who abuse booze and lose

touch, without a care for the fistfuls of hair in the bathroom sink, torn out

in grief and rage because dad couldn’t think of somebody other than himself;

More long-distance calls That you make to Iraq, crying and waiting for him to call back

and low moans on the telephone, when he tells you he’ll be coming home soon

Another dream committed suicide today, jumped from the Verrazano-Narrows

Would rather slam it’s Head into the New York Bay than say Hey, May I take your order for one more fucking day,

East-side mind glide by find peace in the sprawl, make sense of  it all,

Pick up the glove and play ball,

and if you don’t,

Then there’s the door;

just give our regards to whoevers out there

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little blanket-bug!

when I wake up in the morning and I’m all comfy in my bed,

I fell like a lil blanket-bug, and I burrow in my head!

To the Powers that Be: (Changing World.)

My brain is tapioca,

Resting in a bowl of pudding skull,

And I’m ready to scoop it out and dump it

into the Kill Van Kull.

Things are changing, and the Wheel is turning,

and it just won’t be the same;

The Caliphate’s returning

to the East spreading and like a Flame,

and the Capitalist Octopus to the West,

That’s Rotting Marco’s brain.

This uneasy peace is falling to sleep

and the pieces have all been set;

the board is perilously laid,

Just waiting to make the Check.

And as the Powers that be stood quietly

with fingers meshed and held their breath,

the next Oppenheimer, Destroyer of Worlds was born,

And he’s ready to answer

the blast of the horn.

Wisdom (chew on this)

The joke’s on them,

because I knew all along that meter only accepts quarters;

I just wanted to get rid of all those pesky nickels!

Il Dado e Tratto

the Ides of March are upon us

and the Caesar’s days are numbered;

though the conquest of Gall

brought wealth and fame

and All the world

Shall remember the name,


will extinguish

the brightest flame

And as legions cross the Rubicon

the Senate are solemnly

sharpened blades.

For The Pharaohs of the Nile

and all the riches of military splendor…

Et tu, Brute? Then Fall, Caesar.

Out of the North

out of the North I gallop towards home,

rubber hooves of my Civic pounding the Palisades Parkway

Pump pump on the gas, to Switch lanes and pass,

Raggaeton on, November air pouring over the sleek bodied machine

trees and signs fly by, Hudson River Valley disappears behind,

swallowed up by the blackness my high beams couldn’t find,

ink-black waters of the river flow churn slow,

Garden State plates traveling in a bounding pack down the track

like hounds for the races, skyline light replaces stars turn to

street lights frantically spilling by night’s asphalt blood

Out of the North and away from the dreams,

reentry to reality urban chugging turning gangland mugging

gasoline igniting cigarette loving and exits for the Holland Tunnel,

Shout out to Elizabeth, Union and Brooklyn the radio Jamaician MC sings

While I’m barreling to Heaven on four-cylinder wings,

the Pulaski Skyway sets us free

Ripping our Skeletons Out of the North

and Smashing them gently

into the Sea.

Ser Marco of Hackensack

sometimes in my mind,

I’m a prince or a knight,

standing up for what is Good and Right

in a world of evil-doers and warlocks.


but sometimes,

I think that I’m the monster,

and that knights

just can’t exist here.


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