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Nigdaw Sep 10
Inside this scaled down life
We move like goldfish
The pretence of an ocean
In four small rooms.
So many other lives swim
Within the same space
One upon another
Surrounded by the din
Of each other and the world
Passing by.


Is it any wonder
We have become insane
Looking for ways out
Expression through graffiti
Escape through drugs
Destroying the symmetry
Of our own environment
To mimic the bounty of nature
Destroying each other, for peace
And a chance to sleep alone.
Steve Aug 26
The writings on the wall
In letters three feet tall
There for all to see
But is it art or is it just graffiti

On the banks of the river
On the side of a train
On a derelict building
Though some like to complain

“Vandalism!”
In the public domain!
“Coloured writings!”
In the dog-eared terrain!

What’s it worth?
What’s it for?
Well painted by the Banks
A kings ransom for sure

In good taste
Or just a waste
No, no sweetie
There’s a lot to this graffiti.
annh Aug 17
red
neon
rain spattered
pavements teeming;
one thousand prismatic shades of meaning

graffiti-laden puddles splish, splosh, splash;
as midnight turns
to blue, and
dawn to
ash

‘I walked up, and I walked down, and I walked straight into a delicately dying sky, and finally the sequence of observed and observant things brought me, at my usual eating time, to a street so distant from my usual eating place that I decided to try a restaurant which stood on the fringe of the town. Night had fallen without sound or ceremony when I came out again.’
- Vladimir Nabokov, The Vane Sisters
Tommy Randell Jun 13
I write poems as graffiti
Not by way of keeping score
No, my words are given freely
They will cost you nothing more

But now and then a thought will root
To grow there in perfect soil
And blossom as a perfect Truth
To become your inner voice

As one or two so came to me
They'll become yours as you write
From page to page our poetry
Is a gathering of Light
Three verses 8,7,8,7. Half rhymes ABAB CDCD EFEF
hypnopunk Apr 18
we hid
under the ramp
when it rained
it was made
out of splinters
and stained
with graffiti

we sat
and didn't speak
just looked
at grey puddles
on grey concrete
and dry grey stones
under our feet

we waited
because the ramp
was a shield
battle scarred
and wet
with graffiti
that we made
a memory from a few years back
Jon Thenes Mar 23
Glorious wounding of the efficient decline
plugged into darkness
the catastrophic say ;

Cancel the cure
and let The Cancer mature
Rule only the Unruly
make Gangsters of us all

- ignite [tag signature]
Kellin Sep 2018
Some memories are just graffiti to the soul
Father time's hands can try to scrub the artwork away but some
images will forever  be tattooed a woeful masterpiece
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