Amtrak Depot, Penn Station, New York.

[Certain]

Crusted corners of eyes sweeping the room,
strained by the fluorescent lights' deepening gloom.
We're fucking glowing in sadness.
Track delay, explosive reactions,
with coffee and body odor corroding the transit.
And we're bundled.
It's cold outside. We're stuck in the sweat pit.
Funneling frustrations through each thrust at the exits.
The mad scramble. It's love at first neck twist.
She wore leather boots and kept her head down as she texted.
Avoid eye contact, part of the (dys)functional checklist,
along with keeping track of belonging,
but none of us should be here. We're passing along.
Vagabonds of the moment. Glum cast of despondents.
She wore a winter hat, revealing a flash of her blond head.
Amanda. Might be her name. Looks like an Amanda.
The scrum reduces us to ticket numbers, turnstiles and bar scanners.
Book readers. Nook readers. Newspaper glancers.
With the turn of each page, no escape and no answers.
The seats are padded, yet the backs jettison any attempt at rest.
Still Amanda coils her boots under her leggings to stretch.
We're two hours late, discussing the weather but stuck inside,
refreshing devices in hopes of finding another ride.
Security points. Don't pet the dogs. Please step up and right.

"Now boarding":

Amanda, my love,

good-bye.

[dead man]

I love this

Brb

[Pharaohs Army]

you gotta make an album bro. (if you haven't already)

[big baby]

pretty much the best/least corniest thing you've ever written

[PancakeBrah]

GET THAT NIGGA CERT

dope

[CopyPat]

holy shit. I even like this.

that's basically huge props

i know you know this is dope

best thing i've read in a while. good one

post more in here, fag

[Certain]

Thanks, friends.

[Geno]

this is redic

whole thing just painted the scene perfectly.
everything from the surrounding scenery and feel of it, to the chick with her head down. real nice work

[Wise Wiggles]

creeper status on this one

[dead man]

this brought me back to the rail lines I took overseas, and every Metra and CTA train rides i've ever taken. It's a bit creepy on the surface, sure. but the impression a beautiful stranger can have on a man is something profound and something that we rarely discuss openly.

love at first neck twist.

awesome.

you describe the motions, the atmosphere, the feelings associated with a crowded transit almost perfectly.

discussing the weather but stuck inside.

i could almost see her in front of me. every woman on her way to work in the morning. coffee steam and sun times. red peacoats and tall, leather boots. thats winter in the city. i love it. only someone who takes a daily, public commute can really appreciate the scene you set up here i think.

it was succinct and honest and well rendered.

you mentioned on a recent verse of mine that i am veering a bit away from the rigid rhyme-centric approach and this is why: reading it in other's verses has begun to bother me a bit. it usually feels at least a bit contrived for me, and unfortunately sections of this were no different.

"blond head" was a sort of whack to me. anything else could have worked better and made that more organic, rather than something you just wanted to rhyme.

i dunno. besides that single moment and a few other tiny glitches, i absolutely loved this little vignette of the lonely commuter. and perhaps not even that, just absent-minded. searching and wandering. overthinking his maybe-Amanda.

thank you.

[oats]

it's about time I give you the level of feed you so consistently give everyone else.

overall, I thought this was novel and well-described. The situation you detail is something universally appealing and immediately understood, but I can't recall coming across anything else that captured this kind of niche of modern living.

Crusted corners of eyes sweeping the room,
strained by the fluorescent lights' deepening gloom.
We're fucking glowing in sadness.
Track delay, explosive reactions,
with coffee and body odor corroding the transit.
And we're bundled.
It's cold outside. We're stuck in the sweat pit.
Funneling frustrations through each thrust at the exits.
The mad scramble.

I really loved this section. Now that I take a subway daily, I feel like I can appreciate how spot-on these descriptions were. Great setting of the stage

It's love at first neck twist.
She wore leather boots and kept her head down as she texted.
Avoid eye contact, part of the (dys)functional checklist,
along with keeping track of belonging,
but none of us should be here. We're passing along.
Vagabonds of the moment. Glum cast of despondents.

My one qualm/backhanded compliment: the phrase "love at first neck twist" is so good that I would have liked to see it built up to after the scene of seeing her is painted. It was almost a spoiler in that sense, whereas describing her before appearance and then calling it love at first neck twist may have been a better choice. As it stands, there's nothing that interferes with the piece or anything, just a note that stood out to me.

I do really like how you bounce between her appearance and swiveling to the survey the rest of the crowd. Makes it seem more genuine and less stalker/rape-ish. Like, if you were just glaring at this stranger and eyeballing her up and down, accounting for every detail, without retracting to the larger scene of waiting for a late train, it would be too intense for the moment imo. You also did well not to lose sight of Her in the masses, though. Thought that was a well-crafted direction.

She wore a winter hat, revealing a flash of her blond head.
Amanda. Might be her name. Looks like an Amanda.
The scrum reduces us to ticket numbers, turnstiles and bar scanners.
Book readers. Nook readers. Newspaper glancers.
With the turn of each page, no escape and no answers.

This had a crisp rhythm to it, almost jazzy. I like how this piece is not directly about the chick, but rather the haven from boredom she represents. For some reason Amanda makes me think brunette, but the sentiment is well-put.

The seats are padded, yet the backs jettison any attempt at rest.
Still Amanda coils her boots under her leggings to stretch.
We're two hours late, discussing the weather but stuck inside,
refreshing devices in hopes of finding another ride.
Security points. Don't pet the dogs. Please step up and right.

"Now boarding":

Amanda, my love,

good-bye.

You close it out nicely. the day goes on, and the momentary escape from being a bored flaneur speeds away.

There is very little to critique, and even less to dislike. This was a compact, self-contained verse that took place in the perfect window for it. It speaks to my sensibilities as a reader in that it takes a small moment and implies larger truths that stem from it; perhaps more suggestion would have been nice, but that's just tacking some shit on tbh. This was one of the finer pieces I've read from you.

[Mike Wrecka]

Here's a tune about this honey named Renee
That I met one day on my way back from John Jay
I'm peepin' shorty as she's walkin' to the train
I tap her on her shoulders, "Excuse me miss, but can I get your name?"
She said "My name is Renee"
I said "I got a whole lot to say, so may I walk you to your subway"
She said "If you want", so yo' we started talkin'
I brought two franks and two drinks and we began walkin'
I had to see where that head was at 'cause the gear was mad phat
So we must chat about this and that
She told me what she was in school for
She wants to be a lawyer in other words shorty studies law
I'm tellin' shorty I'm a writer and as she's lookin' for the token
She drops a packet of the EZ widers
Covers her mouth with her name ring
I said, yo don't sweat the technique shorty rocks I do the same thing
But yet I use Philly Blunts, she said "I never dealt with Philly Blunts
Because I heard that's for silly stunts"
I said, "Nah, they burn slower, right now I really don't know ya
But maybe later on I can get to show ya"



A ghetto love is the law that we live by
Day by day I wonder why my shorty had to die
I reminisce over my ghetto princess everyday
Give it up for my shorty, shorty



A ghetto love is the law that we live by
Day by day I wonder why my shorty had to die
I reminisce over my ghetto princess everyday
Give it up for my shorty, shorty



So now we sittin' on the train
Besides the fingernails now shorty got the hairdo of pain
Now understand she got flava
A tough leather jacket, with some jeans
And a chain that her moms gave her
Got off the train about 6:34 she wasn't sure
She had grub for the dog so we hit the store
Went to the crib and turned the lights on
A mad magazine stand from Essence to Right On
A leather couch, stero system with crazy CD's
Understand 'cause she got G'z
She said "Cheeks do what you want", she said "I'm gonna feed the dog"
I said "Alright, well I'm gonna roll this blunt"
She came back with stretch pants and a ponytail
A t-shirt, a yo, Fam I got a tender-roni girl
We're sittin' on the couch chattin'
We're smokin' blunts off the balcony, we're stearin' at Manhattan now
She started feelin' on my chest, I started feelin' on the breasts
And there's no need for me to stress the rest
A yo, I got myself a winner
We sparked a blunt before we ate, and a blunt after we ate dinner
She had a tattoo she only wanted Bo to see
But first dim the lights and turn up the Jodeci
I'm like whatever shorty rock we can swing it like that
'Cause on the real this is where it's at



A ghetto love is the law that we live by
Day by day I wonder why my shorty had to die
I reminisce over my ghetto princess everyday
Give it up for my shorty, shorty



A ghetto love is the law that we live by
Day by day I wonder why my shorty had to die
I reminisce over my ghetto princess everyday
Give it up for my shorty, shorty



I woke up the next day on the waterbed
A letter's on the pillow and this what the letter said
It said "Cheeks, I'll be home around two
You was deep in your sleep so I didn't want to bother you"
I left my number for shorty to call me later,
Got dressed, smoked the blunt and then I bounced towards the elevator
I got a beep around three
I'm askin' shorty, "What's up with you?"
She's askin', what's up with me
And now we been together for weeks
Candlelight dinner with my shorty, crack a 40 with my naughty freaks
Hey man, I never been in love
But everytime I'm burstin' in and outta state it's shorty that I'm thinkin' of
I'm hangin' out with my crew I get a beep from Renee
Because Renee uses code too
But yet I'm chattin' with her mom dukes
She said Renee has been shot so Cheeks, meet me up at St. Lukes
I jumps on the Van Wyck, I gotta make it there quick
A yo, this shit is gettin' mad thick
Not even thinkin' of the po nine I'm doin' a buck, who gives a fuck
I'm smokin' boom and the whole nine
I gotta see what's goin' on and by the time I reach the hospital
They tell me "Mr. Cheeks, Renee is gone"
I'm pourin' beer out for my shorty who ain't here
I'm from the ghetto so listen this is how I shed my tears


A ghetto love is the law that we live by
Day by day I wonder why my shorty had to die
I reminisce over my ghetto princess everyday
Give it up for my shorty, shorty



A ghetto love is the law that we live by
Day by day I wonder why my shorty had to die
I reminisce over my ghetto princess everyday
Give it up for my shorty, shorty



A ghetto love is the law that we live by
Day by day I wonder why my shorty had to die
I reminisce over my ghetto princess everyday
Give it up for my shorty, shorty



A ghetto love is the law that we live by
Day by day I wonder why my shorty had to die
I reminisce over my ghetto princess everyday
Give it up for my shorty, shorty

[Mr. J]

This was a great piece..its nice reading your work when you actually do something
I always feel you have some great material stashed away..
some poetry hidden away in your butterfly encrusted journal
I enjoyed the whole 'neck twist, texted, check list' section
the execution was really well done and brought that 'Certain' effect
speaking of which I would like my rematch good sir...remind me in our next tourny bout
nice work here breh..

[Certain]

Bump.

[Eŋg]

this is a fairly excellent painting in words. ecphrasis, if you like.

[Witty]

FUCK YOU CERTAIN. YOU COME BACK AFTER ALL THIS TIME...AND I SEE THE THREAD IN THE NETCEES HOMEPAGE AND I THINK 'OH MUST BE A NEW OM LET ME CHECK IT OUT' THEN I SEE YOUR NAME AND I'M LIKE 'OH SHIT...NEW CERTAIN STUFF' AND IM SO EXCITED BECAUSE I LOVE YOU, BUT THEN IT'S 3 YEARS OLD...AND THEN...IVE ALREADY READ IT??? PROBABLY THREE...FUCKING...YEARS...AGO. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU. FUCK YOU.

This was good, love you xxxx

[PancakeBrah]

Regrettable use of the N-word, to be sure.

[Sammy]

oh shit...

Amanda. Might be her name. Looks like an Amanda.

nice.

"glowing in sadness" teetered on trite, in my estimation, but everything else was fire. write more, man.

[Witty]

Originally Posted by PancakeBrah

Regrettable use of the N-word, to be sure.

Lmao.

You will always be my favourite.

[Saint]

Enjoyed this, 'specially the first half.

Up.