California burning — Luna

Hello my name is Douglas R Brayton II creator of CNN CHAOSNEWSNETWORK I am an American Poet and writer and Satirist My work can be seen on: Instagram: douglasrbraytonii douglasrbrayton2 douglasrbrayton222 Facebook: Douglas R Brayton II Douglas Brayton II CNN CHAOSNEWSNETWORK If you would like to have your work published […]

via California burning — Luna

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Memorial Day

Solemn remembrance
of flowers on graves
of a peoples whose service
in all wars and armed forces,
gave to a country strong with
observance of memorial; their lives.
On this decoration day,
a summer BBQ laced with cemeteries
and American flags near headstones
will honor and weep for those
who knew patriotism is yet a sacrifice
of the highest honor.
We will parade for you as we recall
the somber battles and comrades lost or maimed
in defense of our country.
A rebellion, a commemorative fight,
a tribute to the countless fallen and affected men and women
we gather as our freedom reigns.

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The Plight Of Chicago

The plight of Chicago

of shots ringing

night and in the day,

A sounding echo

of children never knowing but clinging

to the ease of play~

Natural smiles and laughter, where’d they go-

how about the morning birds singing?

Tomorrow must be better to know~

Because today greeted with a stinging-

when gun shots sound we drop low

who knows what they’ll be bringing.

There’s the plight of Chicago

and all the church bells are ringing.



Posted in Chicago, free style, Free Verse, Freestyle, gang, Gritty Poetry, loss, Mary Caliendo, micropoetry, Poetry, sadness, small poetry, urban speak, UrbanSpeak, Violence | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

The Peace of September

The peace of September

falls upon the hearts

of those who’s greater family

is all of us.


To remember and to cherish

is to love without end.

From the warmth of the sun

to the dust of the storms,

may we forever rise.


My personal 911 tribute.

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Festivals Of Sun Rays

Summer sweat; back and neck

a mile of tents to go.

The crafts of souls creative,

foods of those homemade with hands organic~


~The city comes alive with festivals of sun rays~


Cheap pizza, lemonade slushies, pork chops on a stick

anyone? Can’t get enough, care to throw your wallet at

the dart board?

On a midway filled with elephant ear sized cotton candy

and moldy scented stuffed crap along with

the tribute bands and craft beers trying to be all fancy later~


~The city comes alive with festivals of sun rays~


Whirlwind of summer hotter than ever, get it

all at once because the window’s so short to not

enjoy a super soaker or waterslide, a sunburned nose and

a fire hydrant deluge on a burning side street~


~The city comes alive with festivals of sun rays~

Posted in Free Verse, Freestyle, fun, Mary Caliendo, Poetry, summer, Urban Poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Mother’s Sympathy

Mother’s  Sympathy

Mary had a little lamb

whose Gun toting causes a neighborhood


honor thy mother on a weekend

for her; they shoot them up instead.

Buy some chocolates, balloons,

sympathy cards and candles

together, you’ll need to.

One stop shop, the city endures

soon the sun comes out to bring the next

day on pace for record breaking,  the loss is

just heartbreaking~

Mother’s crying no time for celebration

the kid is going in the ground with nothing

but his dignity and jersey, surrounded by

the roses meant for her~

All in a Chicago minute; mother’s sympathy.


Posted in death, free style, Free Verse, Freestyle, Gritty Poetry, loss, Mary Caliendo, Poetry, sadness, Uncategorized, Urban Poetry, urban speak, UrbanSpeak, Violence | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

Brutal Streets

Brutal Streets

Trapped, gunned down; brutal streets

it’s even the kids now; elementary.

Just learning cursive and what is a noun….

it’s a person, place, and thing

like a nine year old in an alley shot with a gun.

Lured, captured and executed in a city cage

by the ruthless, the heartless, the true thug.

Brutal streets compete

one better than another

who’s hands more bloody?

Mortal wounds to the community

abrasive, aggressive, harsh

Brutal streets so unnecessary~

Hearts broke candles lit

another in the mortuary,

prayers in our churches, prayers in the street; vigil

Stunned, while silent tears fall for

another life loss so unbelievably.

Posted in death, free style, Freestyle, gang, Gritty Poetry, loss, Mary Caliendo, Poetry, sadness, Urban Poetry, urban speak, UrbanSpeak, Violence | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 19 Comments

Rebel Yell

Rebel Yell


Rebel Yell people,

The explosions are coming

fighting and searching for the peace man,

among the sand and granite castles; he hides.


Rebel Yell soldiers,

Where machine guns rattle, mortars and scud

patrols in backs of mini trucks with mounted

artillery move,

snipering through the neighborhoods.

With trails of blood droplets left

as missiles whizz past ears overhead.

Rubble lay among the dead.


Rebel yell fighter man,

front line shrapnel pierces.

A regime and then a tyrant gone

revelry smiles, tears and song.

Freedom feels and freedom sings.


Rebel yell, rebel.

Posted in death, Freestyle, Gritty Poetry, Mary Caliendo, Poetry, sadness, small poetry, UrbanSpeak, Violence, war | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Heroine Catches Them Again

Heroine Catches Them Again…

just passed the third year of high school

He, she, it

the spoon and to the moon and back

How long and how low do they go?

How fast does their heart beat

before they can’t see the world;

the one they may have dreamed of.

How long did they sleep before

dreams were nightmares?

The heated liquid injected

torments and scuttles life as they knew it

How long has their mother been crying

when heroine catches them again?

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Train Men

Train Men
City and country rails
run rickety and rusty all along
through groves of trees and up into
elevated areas between highrises with
sparkling windows
Locomotives burp out sounds of
ticking metal screeches
while conductors switch their tracks by
way of signal
Box cars filled with goods and freighters
filled with fuels of coal flammable
then it’s
nightfall and the arm goes down
crossing no one
horns have sounded
in the quiet zone blasted by the
he nears with lanterns burning
they are train men on their run~

Posted in free style, Freestyle, Mary Caliendo, Poetry, small poetry, trains, Urban Poetry, UrbanSpeak | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Spring Out the Window

Spring Out The Window


While there’s spring out the window

there’s indifference brewing; a town in turmoil

there’s discontent, hopelessness and fear

it seeps on through cracks and crevices.


Curfews, mobilization of forces, injury

peace under attack, despair is in the air.

Destruction, lawlessness; violence is not a protest


Before anyone knows, it’s covering them; the people are blanketed

riots, national guard, on top of the breaking news

looting and fires with no reason~ this isn’t the Spring prom.

Letting down the neighborhood trashing out your home

All as the little ones look on and learn; precious innocence


While there’s Spring out the window…

Posted in Freestyle, Gritty Poetry, micropoetry, Poetry, sadness, Urban Poetry, UrbanSpeak, Violence | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Life Debris

Life Debris

A ravaged land garbage strewn

down to a slab of concrete; houses gone

turbulent skies a mile high- a mile wide

its conduct disorderly, unstable and

thunderous, a boiling swirl of inclement

ferocity; a weather pattern scattered and

headed toward the town.


A shrill of sirens whirr and sound, the loudness causes the

dogs to wail and howl and hide under chairs and

beds. They huddle knowing full well something is

amiss. They ask for protection as we all huddle

in the corner with blankets and radios and phones in hand,

as a cyclone passes above our heads.


The damage it does in mere moments is to not believe,

it buries whole entire lives in a millisecond and while

some are completely unscathed and untouched without explanation

others go on to share an unspeakable loss. There are losses profound; like life.


Life is the thing that brought us to this place. Life is what it is that we

live, like kids on ball fields and moms at shopping malls and daters sharing

ice cream malts at the diner- this life until it’s not.


This tornado of damage has left the streets barren and children frightened

and the school has disappeared. But then life happens again. The community

comes together and spirits blend with heartfelt magnetism. And the mission is

to build and rebuild and to feed and feed again, to help remake the aforementioned


The process begins when the paths of life debris is renewed.

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Dealing Misfortune

Dealing Misfortune


He’s down on his luck

he’s penniless, but filled with pride

he’s waited for each sunrise then

he’s taken for a ride

he hasn’t the required papers

to be that official~


He’s waited for dreams of a second chance

debt plagued, drug used and illiterate

the easy street was dealing it;

changed his fortune

money crossing palms with

morality no issue~


Hard life street corner crooner

buys you a dime bag or chasing the dragon

looses thoughts can’t think straight

next fix when?

Losers lost finders keepers

always are the weepers~


Crack in the empty lot

underneath a street light

as the sirens pass him by

he lights the lighter…another try~


Bring the sunrise bring the rain

withdraw the needle

too much pain

sweat it out~ wait it out

perhaps this is a dealers doubt~


The cards are dealt

the game’s been played

the thunder’s coming

the trees have swayed~

Five card stud dealing misfortune~

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Feign Sleep

Softly, she feigns sleep
no air, hot humid dog days
sweat drip, light hot breeze on toes
siren distant, dog bark near
clock tick tock tick tock
wishing for many dreams deep

Softly, she feigns sleep
too poor, always feeling sore
tossing turning, another tear
always wanting always needing
T.V. plays on bleeping infomercial blah…
wishing for many dreams deep

Softly, she feigns sleep
black hole suck you up
lottery loser red bull drinker
fast food eater, taillight busted
starry night, cloudy night, never ending sky
wishing for many dreams deep.

Posted in Freestyle, Gritty Poetry, Mary Caliendo, Poetry, sadness, small poetry, UrbanSpeak | 3 Comments

Violent Little Village in the City

Violent Little Village in the City


He’s so young definitely scared

A child in a little village in the city

Threatened, beat and slashed

Pled left for dead dumped like garbage

Defiant; fight to survive huddled


A dangerous path with a

Violent alley allegiance

Tats, scat, ploy, toy and initiate

Horrendous action cold night; join in

Life nearly lost a commandment unfollowed


Continual sunrises daybreak finds

Street corner fills~ a neighborhood mentor

Begs friendship brings up God’s crown

Laughter while the pursuit of the next one

 Flashes signs on this a black and gold day~

Posted in death, Freestyle, gang, Gritty Poetry, Mary Caliendo, Poetry, Uncategorized, UrbanSpeak | Tagged , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Paradise Decline

Rough tough tumble

breakneck hustle

car lights neon lights

Strobe light the mind……


Long list Short list

bills bills and credit denials

job interviews little white lies

Life tying knots super behind…..


Double trouble zero tolerance bubble

people talk and people babble

let it be let it free

Sun comes up again…..Another day in Paradise Decline~

Posted in Freestyle, Gritty Poetry, Mary Caliendo, Poetry, small poetry, small ppetry, Uncategorized, UrbanSpeak | Tagged , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Judge Not

Ripped jeans chains and things
and tats as sleeves
with piercing ears and nostrils too
tricolored hair teased and all messed up
but that’s the weekend
stay covered shy and nice he is
working suit and tie
says CEO and now you know
Reserve your judgment.

Posted in Art, Freestyle, Gritty Poetry, Mary Caliendo, Poetry, small poetry, UrbanSpeak | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Heroine Highway

Suburban kids meet in alleys

or sometimes its in parks with pockets

filled with money

sad but elated the rush

they feel the rush they want

the rush that can’t stop pulling at them.


Wrapping around their brains

turning them into an ugly mush

easily addicting them in milliseconds

forcing them to choose

good clean happy lives

for one dependent and crazed.


Jane and John Doe wanted to go on a trip

the trip of a lifetime

they had each other to cling to

the two got into their car

and drove into sunset

on the heroine highway.

Posted in death, Freestyle, Gritty Poetry, Mary Caliendo, Poetry, small poetry, UrbanSpeak | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Summer In The City

Blurred waves to the eye bounce off pavement

black, it smolders, it radiates and it burns

feet soles of the barefoot

sticky hot air don’t move

dogs looking for scraps

kids their hydrant open full blast.


Dangerous relief, even seeking hot breeze

with homemade fans in hands waving

on porches or wherever the shade may be

cool tall beers in plastic cups

distant grill cooks while BBQ waifs

smells across the alleys.


This making hungry belly’s growl

somehow the smell of sprinklers

and newly cut grass along with wet hairlines

convertible topped cars with radios blaring

here comes the ice cream man becoming pied piper

this makes summer in the city complete.

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Dreary cold and grey

the skies as they fill with slush

falling into fields of brown not

yet dead.

Snow, it’s fierce at times and

as angelic as the child’s snow angel

a blanket of froth upon everything;

almost alive.

Each flake different like us people

shaped, round, lovely and soft

obtuse and even angular but always

ever so beautiful.

In the kaleidoscope of most things snow

it may peril us or it may soothe us

and may be the star in most pictures is merely

a nuisance on life’s highways.

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He furrows his brow

at the loss of it all……

the loss of her has left his heart

open to all kinds of sores

the looks of love, the lapse of laughter

the emptiness inside.

His breakfast, lunch and dinner is for one

only his side of the bed is warm

he only answers to himself now

he only talks to himself now

He furrows his brow at the thought of it all……

The moon that shines in his window is only for him

the morning sunshine and the birds that sing so sweetly

he is sure are not just for him

but when he looks in the mirror he sees it all so solo.

He furrows his brow at the loss of it all……..

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So Close Yet So Far

I saw you on the train today

So close yet so far

Too many conversations away as always

Fear struck to move closer, I accept never meeting you

This leaves me stinging and so sad

And always wondering why

But today somehow, it’s different I breathe deeply

I approach, you turn, and you’re so close now….

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Tea Garden

She waited for him in the garden

but when her tea went cold

she left to sow more seeds.

She waited on the chair, she waited with breeze in her hair

the sun still shone; it made her tears glisten

As she left to sow more seeds.


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Hush Gritty City

Hush Falls on the gritty city

Cold dew is on the grass now

in the glow of the lamplight; almost angelic

Until ‘morrow sunny grit begins again.


Posted in Art, Freestyle, Gritty Poetry, Mary Caliendo, micropoetry, Poetry, small ppetry, UrbanSpeak | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

The Barge

The Barge

The eerie spotlight shows upon the river

Back and forth from side to side to check

For night time debris; possibly floating miles ahead

The barge slowly rumbles forward.

Keeping its pace of slothingly forward progress

This barge carries coal heaping full with blackness

Crystalizing glitzes in the moonlight

The barge slowly rumbles forward.

The metal floating crate, with its rusted turned parts

Burps out puffs of meandering oil waste

Its smell is thick with caustic overtones

The barge slowly rumbles forward.

The man who is at the helm is but a shadow

He breathes the fumes of old

He hears the bubbling and gurgling of the water below him

The barge slowly rumbles forward.

The vacuum power of this huge albatross sucks

And pulls the forgotten dingy under its rudder

Then spits it out wrung into pieces

The barge slowly rumbles forward.

The tempest of its route is but a narrow causeway

Its banks filled with dead fish and rocks and bent

Branches of trees that have witnessed the parade

Of …….

The barges slowly rumbling forward.

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Eviction Of Life

Eviction of Life

The eviction of life

Stands promptly at the curb

Where today passerby and neighbor bear witness

To the harsh reality of hard choices

That this collection of unloved or forgotten

Pieces of one’s hard work or devotion is

Now sifted and gathered for the parasitic rovers

To laboriously pick through as if this find

is something lost and then gained

Would fit them or their pockets snuggly or

Cause them the jackpot to be cashed in

The thoughts of that child without its bike causes

one to want to holler at the man running

Down the street with it until it is realized


Perhaps he has none and that it was he who

May have also suffered at the hands

Of the eviction of life.

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City Sleeps With One Eye Open

City Sleeps With One Eye Open

The city sleeps with one eye open,

Fall like soldiers in a battle of ambush in the streets.

Children collateral; no discrimination in this place,

Shame, flows like blood on concrete grass.

Put your brain in the game; put the metal down.

The city sleeps with one eye open,

Feel. be. move. emulate and create.

Be the change, need the change stop the raw,

If you see it, you need to say it.

Silence is quiet but feel the flow,

The city sleeps with one eye open,

Ebb tide and demystify the fictional leaders of the street.

The spirit of a city that weeps for it’s innocence and then some,

Sirens, lights and neon bling evolve.

Bring the peace; the sobriety of the soul.

For the City that sleeps with one eye open…..

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Poet Dreamersteves Shack

Spring’s at play..Cupid takes out his bow..arrows take tell lovers…it’s okay…to enjoy the sting.

Finches getting their load at the birdfeeder..changing colors…shining purple like I’ve never seen.

left over giant oak leaves… crumpled up… start to walk across the barren ground…as the mourning doves moan their midday song.

Fish swirl in the cold water… looking up for warmth and of course food…while the snakes make landings between the rocks.. and the turtles inch along

Peeking is the ghost-like moon ..who tells the dark to this night tries his new black clothes on. 

The trees bending in the wind …with fingered branches holding up the sky…and winter left its mess of broken friends on the ground…a prize for the bugs.

The dumb squirrel digs in empty holes …the very ones he ate the nuts from last week…while the cottontail rabbits zig-zag in the woods.

The pungent odor takes the…

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