Decline Of The Urbanite


Hear the cry of melancholic mortar;

 

As decay buries

Broken brick bones

Of skeleton homes –

 

The declining domain

Of the urbanite…

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Totalitarianism Topples


Charlatans – infallible

(In minds made theirs)

Order oppressed living obituaries

To propagate propaganda –

“To publicly proclaim perfect pretexts to total truth”.

 

They urge all under them to

Question questioners

Whose thoughts have travelled –

Now having returned

Need to be jailed or put to work.

 

Overt braggarts,

They declare their own divinity –

With covert lies clad with

Logic-defying, stupefying speech

Strikes mass in stupor.

 

Upon these conmen-

Illusionists of the dusk

Who paint every shadow

In blood – save for them

To support selves as salvation. –

Downfall fixates it’s eyes

Strikes – but once.

 

So uncovered is –

Scam and scammers

Swindlers of the soul –

 

Freed defrauded devotees

Wander, wondering when

Their angel’s flesh will roam

Again.

Piercing Pose Of Thee


Piercing pose of thee-

Why do you see?

Ingrained grit of humanity-

Every evil.

Imperfect goodness-

Every infinitesimal bit!

 

Piercing pose of thee-

Your eyes are of light tonight,

Some machination of white-

You stand so proud-

 

A reason should be given…

What is reason without realism?

An addition of emotional intrusion-

Never we saw

And ever we see-

The curses of insecurity,

The weaves of winter’s lost leases-

Still your smile,

Always your smile-

Turned to the window…

Grey gratitude, the concrete cure conveys-

Down we fall, though we still stall-

O’ piercing pose of thee,

Why do you see?

What do you see?

Cry Out To My Last Breathe


I shout, I cry out into the wind,
I am growing weary in this night, even my silence is worn out,
I try and say words injected with feeling,
But my energy is failing in this, my hour of need,
I cry out to my final, last breathe…
All I speak for, is for a reply,
But all I see is a turned back,
If only you turned, so I saw your face of life,
And I would be happy,
Flipping this coin back to zero,
I would be ready to start anew…

PINK 26


I am in a car,

Stepping out.

I walk into a shop,

Not spending any money,

I feel in my pocket,

I have £26.00,

Two £10 notes.

One £5 note.

And a one pound coin.

Strange that I should notice this.

I get back in the car,

I start the engine…

 

I have lost something.

You were the yang to my yin.

I was the smart one, you were the rebel.

My family tried to raise me,

But you were more than family,

They try too hard to stop my grief.

 

Because of you, my role is now reversed,

I am yang, yet still yin.

I am now the rebel.

I try and force a change upon my mind and sprit.

I can not change, I need to tip the balance,

Of my heart and mind.

I sit on my bed on this fateful night, I am a fading light.

The cold rain falls, covering my window with dripping droplets,

My hands shiver as I grasp the bottle, as I dye my hair pink, 

This seemingly insignificant act is my symbolic, cataclysmic last straw.

 

I step out of my room,

Into the the hall.

 

I am home.

I am not leaving.

I just need to breathe…

 

I say this as I go out the back,

Leaving the door unlocked.

 

I start walking up a rain covered road,

Mercury-like water flows down this slope,

This is a very black road, my darkest night.

 

I get on the bus to everywhere,

When I get there,

Will I even care,

Or have enough to pay the fare?

 

I feel in my pocket,

I have £26.00,

Two £10 notes.

One £5 note.

And a one pound coin.

Strange that I should notice this.

 

Green, yellow, white,

A triad of hallucinogenic colours

on this bright night horizon,

 

Strange black trees stand either side of this narrowing road

They move with the road, they are stark sudden movements,

The trees get closer to each other as the road narrows,

Till they merge into a blurry line as the road disappears.

 

Goodbye reality…

 

Smashed glass,

The bed stained pink…

Glass Soul


I am ripped to shards of finest glass,

I have been forced to leave.

Surrounded by

darkest air,

deepest despair.

I speak, but there is no answer back,

I reach out, and there is no hand to grab…

I am a person with no shadow,

A shadow with no person.

I am an after-image blur of who I was when complete,

Light is no more.

I feel myself fading to the air,

Hopelessness chokes me as ivy chokes the tree that was at unity with nature

before…

Before this insidious interruption,

this barrier between it and life,

Between you and me.