July 31 - Tourists
Thirsting for vibrance,
They peel the soul and leave husks.
Only shadows remain.
I love this! A deep reflection on what’s lost when a place is sold for mass consumption.🖤
He began to carve a name onto the gargoyle,
high up there on the cathedral roof -
Found fallen onto patio far below,
neck gouge most mysterious.
Love a gargoyle poem. And a vengeance gargoyle at that🖤
Tourista . Moctazuma’s revenge.
Dirty water washed lettuce leaves
Left behind memories.
Oh gross 🤢😂
A double entendre that flushes, drains our energy and says clean up our environment, actions speak louder than words.
Born, walk, love, hope, sleep
Death makes tourists of us all
Earth: Just visiting
Oh nice!! I love this take!🖤
We fly in like wasps
Brain-bleached beach-buzzing zigzags
Wishing you weren’t here
If I’m reading this correctly, the tourists are upset at the existence of the locals? Love that take, underscoring the selfishness of tourists.
Yup, that’s basically it - “this place’d be great, if it wasn’t for the people” sort of thing
"Yeah, I met them. They couldn't say the town's name. It's BEL-WHA, not BELL-OIGHT. Americans can't speak French for shit."
We can barely speak English, what chance do we have with French?
For fun-
Eah-yay, I et-may em-thay. Ey-thay ouldn't-cay ay-say ethay own's-tay ame-nay. It's EL-WHA-BAY, ot-nay ELL-OIGHT-BAY. Americans an't-cay eak-spay Ench-Fray or-fay it-shay.
and
Ita, eos conveni. Non poterant dicere nomen oppidi. Est BEL-WHA, non BELL-OIGHT. Americani linguam Gallicam loqui non possunt.
Moi aussi.
A cacophony
of languages, confuse those
that call this place home
I like this perspective! I wonder if it’s all like white noise eventually, like you get so used to hearing what you don’t understand, you just ignore it.
Daily, they appear,
To fray our nerves, then leave with,
A cheap souvenir... 😎
Hardly seems worth it, lol.
Haha! That's very true. Especially as you can probably just buy the souvenirs on Amazon these days anyway and save yourself the trip... 😎
“Faded dreams on hotel beds” might be one of the saddest lines I’ve ever read. Love these🖤
I wrote tanka poems about Las Vegas visitors when we first moved here.
Neon glows so bright
Nights under casino lights—
Hopes ride on the dice
Mirage in the desert's heart
Dreams rise, fall, and drift apart
✿
Crowds move in a wave
Strip's chaos, a constant hum—
Strangers' laughter blends
Lost in the city's mirage
Night's allure never pretends
Glittering facades
Faceless crowds on Vegas streets—
Every night a show
Secrets hidden in plain sight
City's pulse beats through the night
Desert sun burns hot
Tourists flock to pools and shade—
Mirage so deceived
Amidst the flashing allure
City’s secrets never grieved
Bright lights cast long shadows
Faded dreams on hotel beds—
Fortune's fleeting kiss
Stories told in whispered tones
Echoes linger, never known
Ooh, never come across “tanka” before
I've got two:
Wreck all for selfies
Faces growing tight and cold
Until they've had enough
Two:
Maine coast should be seen
But remember, just in case:
Leave before Labor Day
A double-edged sword that tourism business, well said🖤
Thirsting for vibrance,
They peel the soul and leave husks.
Only shadows remain.
I love this! A deep reflection on what’s lost when a place is sold for mass consumption.🖤
He began to carve a name onto the gargoyle,
high up there on the cathedral roof -
Found fallen onto patio far below,
neck gouge most mysterious.
Love a gargoyle poem. And a vengeance gargoyle at that🖤
Tourista . Moctazuma’s revenge.
Dirty water washed lettuce leaves
Left behind memories.
Oh gross 🤢😂
A double entendre that flushes, drains our energy and says clean up our environment, actions speak louder than words.
Born, walk, love, hope, sleep
Death makes tourists of us all
Earth: Just visiting
Oh nice!! I love this take!🖤
We fly in like wasps
Brain-bleached beach-buzzing zigzags
Wishing you weren’t here
If I’m reading this correctly, the tourists are upset at the existence of the locals? Love that take, underscoring the selfishness of tourists.
Yup, that’s basically it - “this place’d be great, if it wasn’t for the people” sort of thing
"Yeah, I met them. They couldn't say the town's name. It's BEL-WHA, not BELL-OIGHT. Americans can't speak French for shit."
We can barely speak English, what chance do we have with French?
For fun-
Eah-yay, I et-may em-thay. Ey-thay ouldn't-cay ay-say ethay own's-tay ame-nay. It's EL-WHA-BAY, ot-nay ELL-OIGHT-BAY. Americans an't-cay eak-spay Ench-Fray or-fay it-shay.
and
Ita, eos conveni. Non poterant dicere nomen oppidi. Est BEL-WHA, non BELL-OIGHT. Americani linguam Gallicam loqui non possunt.
Moi aussi.
A cacophony
of languages, confuse those
that call this place home
I like this perspective! I wonder if it’s all like white noise eventually, like you get so used to hearing what you don’t understand, you just ignore it.
Daily, they appear,
To fray our nerves, then leave with,
A cheap souvenir... 😎
Hardly seems worth it, lol.
Haha! That's very true. Especially as you can probably just buy the souvenirs on Amazon these days anyway and save yourself the trip... 😎
“Faded dreams on hotel beds” might be one of the saddest lines I’ve ever read. Love these🖤
I wrote tanka poems about Las Vegas visitors when we first moved here.
Neon glows so bright
Nights under casino lights—
Hopes ride on the dice
Mirage in the desert's heart
Dreams rise, fall, and drift apart
✿
Crowds move in a wave
Strip's chaos, a constant hum—
Strangers' laughter blends
Lost in the city's mirage
Night's allure never pretends
✿
Glittering facades
Faceless crowds on Vegas streets—
Every night a show
Secrets hidden in plain sight
City's pulse beats through the night
✿
Desert sun burns hot
Tourists flock to pools and shade—
Mirage so deceived
Amidst the flashing allure
City’s secrets never grieved
✿
Bright lights cast long shadows
Faded dreams on hotel beds—
Fortune's fleeting kiss
Stories told in whispered tones
Echoes linger, never known
Ooh, never come across “tanka” before
I've got two:
Wreck all for selfies
Faces growing tight and cold
Until they've had enough
Two:
Maine coast should be seen
But remember, just in case:
Leave before Labor Day
A double-edged sword that tourism business, well said🖤