The city moves in a synchronized tide,
A million watches, perfectly allied.
They flow down the stairs of the concrete veins,
Bound by the invisible, golden chains.
The "proper" coffee, the "standard" commute,
A garden of logic with identical fruit.
But in the attic where the streetlamp dies,
A different geometry begins to rise.
He doesn’t speak in the common tongue,
Of ladder rungs climbed or songs already sung.
While they chase the roar of the winning side,
He’s mapping the places where the ghosts reside.
He keeps his secrets in a dog-eared book,
Ignoring the "should" and the sideways look.
For while the crowd seeks the warmth of the glow,
He’s learning the things that the stones only know.
It’s a quiet defiance, a refusal to blend,
A road that begins where the pavements end.
A life carved out of the static and rough.....
A brilliance they’ll label as... "Unherd Of"........
Michael Powers
"STYXX ON FIRE "
Feb 10
Feb 10, 2026 at 6:53 AM UTC
The city moves in a synchronized tide,
A million watches, perfectly allied.
They flow down the stairs of the concrete veins,
Bound by the invisible, golden chains.
The "proper" coffee, the "standard" commute,
A garden of logic with identical fruit.
But in the attic where the streetlamp dies,
A different geometry begins to rise.
He doesn’t speak in the common tongue,
Of ladder rungs climbed or songs already sung.
While they chase the roar of the winning side,
He’s mapping the places where the ghosts reside.
He keeps his secrets in a dog-eared book,
Ignoring the "should" and the sideways look.
For while the crowd seeks the warmth of the glow,
He’s learning the things that the stones only know.
It’s a quiet defiance, a refusal to blend,
A road that begins where the pavements end.
A life carved out of the static and rough.....
A brilliance they’ll label as... "Unherd Of"........
Michael Powers
"STYXX ON FIRE "
