Posted On August 4, 2015 By In Miscellaneous, Ramblings

Big City Poetry: The Air of NYC


Ah, it feels great to be back. After a many month hiatus from the world of Writtalin, I have returned to try my hands at something a bit different. Poetry. On a recent trip to the Apple of Bigness, I decided to wet my chops in this field, and am looking to turn ‘Big City Poetry’ into a series of chronicles from cities around the states. Although I’ve never done this before, I figured it never hurts to try a hand at something pretentious. Enjoy.

The Air of NYC

July is the season of air, thick air, stench riddled air, boundless air, tropical air, annoying air.

Like Hawaiian humidity, but with a side serving of rotten excrement, it dominates the headlines and infiltrates the surroundings.

But there’s more to the town than a stinky ambience.

The one force to rip through the pillow thick sky is, simply, beauty.

Yes, the city finds a way of radiating it when you’d least imagine.

Though charm is not apparent, it is inherent.

Like a surreptitious message, it must be decoded.

But make no mistake, NY shows it.

People barreling to and fro with an endless sense of urgency, will leave you wondering “for what?”

To this I maintain, what’s wrong with moving with a sense of purpose?

For those who like speed, you’ll agree, when you spend life pacing yourself, you will only spend the rest of life pacing yourself.

If you plan to fit in, you have to walk the walk, talk the talk, and above all else, enjoy the energy.

Thriving on energy is the only way to thrive.

No, I didn’t steal that from Yoga Berra, it was self contrived.

Until next time, we bid the city goodnight.

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Brian Wray is a writer for Writtalin. A self-proclaimed hipster who makes his home in San Diego, he recently escaped LA after working in production and casting for the past 2 years. His interests are tennis, recording music, and more tennis. Follow his various works at And Twitter him @BrianWrayMedia