Bryden Jul 28
He has a bench in Central Park,
a step on Seventh Avenue,
a corner on Broadway.
But home is a feeling rather than a location,
something those who have a lock and key and
a mortgage fee will never understand.
The gatekeepers tell him
‘That bench is for people to sit on’,
so he grabs his sleeping bag with beat up weathered hands,
and leaves the park,
realising ‘people’ is another category in which he does not belong.
Autumn is here
so winter is near.
A chance to rush to snowy mountains with Chanel scarves
to escape ‘dreary’ lives.
He takes his vacation
from park to doorway,
views aren’t as nice but it dulls the bite.
As night drapes over Manhattan, he zig zags between expressionless crowds,
like an unread word.
He seeks a corner just off Broadway (the bright lights numb his loneliness).
In soiled clothes and old scuffed shoes,
he sits on newspaper wrinkled by other hands
and watches passers-by with bloodshot eyes,
bills burning in their pockets.
A man with shoes shinier than dreams
soils his corner with a wad of spit.
He wonders,
do I belong everywhere, or nowhere at all?
And he pulls out his guitar and begins to sing,
October cough thick with illness,
‘They say
the neon lights are always bright
on Broadway’.
Bryden Jul 24
Manhattan bathes in lilac-stained dawn,
patiently waiting for a new day to form.
Skyscrapers tickled by the flicker of confused lights
they wonder
whilst light meets dark,
nodding heads
as they pass each other by.
Taxis creep around corners,
collecting the last of the night raiders,
breath sour and eyes wine-weakened,
allergic to morning light.
Cars groan and begin to carve today’s trails
exhaust pipes snoring
as they huff out polluted clouds into smokeless sky.
The 6.a.m. sun crowns The Empire State Building,
and glazes a million windows like honey-roasted ham.
Chrysler squints,
May’s rays bounce off her bronze-blushed walls.
Sleepless wanderers now sleepy crowds,
wine bottles now coffee cups.
Pigeons flutter between dragging feet,
pecking pavements,
catching the odd petal from the honey-blossoms
that stand like angels amongst grey steel.
A sea of suits cluster at the crossing,
people politely covering yawns
as they wait for the green man to give them instruction,
unsure whether the button has even been pushed.
Allesha Eman Jul 15
I’ve travelled to places where darkness lives ,
Places where sunrise has never been witnessed,
Navigating dark corners of navy blue mazes,
Night skies colour the ground with unfiltered darkness,
Rocky paths lined with slivers of moonlight,
But somewhere underneath the starless sky,
Is a city scape that lights the places where the sun doesn’t rise,
When the people smile together and unleash their joy,
The stars start to glimmer like simple reflections,
And slowly the sun starts to rise once again.
Vexren4000 Jul 12
Smoke dissipating,
Through the city streets,
Into the noses of old humans,
Relics of hat they once were,
Hollowed husks,
Only knowing momentary pleasure,
Running from a life of suffering.

Aaron LaLux Jul 3
I’m an Anti-Social Socialite,
rocking new New Balances,
most of these Kids aren’t rockin’ right,
they’ve got too much ego & too few talents with,
attitudes that need adjusting,
in other words they’re not talented,
when I appear Haters disappear,
call that a Lover’s Magic Trick,

written 10 books,
and still don’t know what an adjective is,
it’s like we’re Illiterate Literary Luminaries,
walking paradoxes in a par of Croc kicks,

kinda like an Anti-Social Socialite,
or a wise man that’s lost it,
even though we both know we’re never lost,
because we’re always here and always on topic,

and you’re never late either,
because the time is always now,
and I do all these things,
even though I don’t know how,


I’m an Anti-Social Socialite,
rocking new New Balances,
most of these Kids aren’t rockin’ right,
they’ve got too much ego & too few talents with,
attitudes that need adjusting,
in other words they’re not talented,
when I appear Haters disappear,
call that a Lover’s Magic Trick…

∆ Aaron La Lux ∆

new book available worldwide: 8/8/18
Vexren4000 Jun 24
A note floating down a flooded curb,
On it maybe a requiem of love,
Or a list for groceries,
Maybe a poem written halfheartedly,
Or some doodle absently drawn,
Passed down by winds a rain water,
Now a tattered torn paper scrap,
A ghost of what it was.

Vexren4000 Jun 20
Children loosing parents,
Parents loosing children,
A world of dog eat dog,
And man has never left this rule,
Even if we left the woods, plains and jungle,
We never left our animal side behind.

Natalie Jun 15
swelting sun making me sweat
sleeveless shirts are a staple in my closet
skimpy skirts stick closely to my body

urban adventures with underrated friends
unique experiences that are unforgettable
unhappy mother as I arrive home at unfit hours

mainly mall shopping with money i don't have
making my own way, i hate having a job
marking myself down for college courses

muffintops are not part of my bikini body
mornings are the only time it's not blazing hot
math is not in my vocabulary

eating excellent watermelon
easily drifting off to sleep
excited for this evening's events

resting 'round the clock
running from responsibility
rules aren't referring to me
James Khan Jun 9
A broken dawn precludes another morning,

Awaking, stiff like living rigor mortis

Beneath abandoned marketeers' awning,

As senses stir, the only conscious thought is

Communion of cigarettes and lager,

Ablutions in a font of aquafortis,

A plageurising chapter from the saga

Of all the people God denied of mercy

And charity just makes horizons darker,

Addiction, like a vampire cries so thirsty

But arteries and veins are not on offer,

Another day of vagrancy to curse me

And all the pain that homelessness will proffer

Now crucifies my hope like Mount Golgotha.
Terza Rima form
goodtea May 28
You wanted to be a soldier
But you grew up in urban warfare
A battle of class and hate

You became a soldier just not how
You thought you’d be and now
It’s too late for childhood dreams

I’m looking for words but there’s a
Body in the ground because of you
Fuck why did it have to be you

Let’s go back to being kids and
I’ll ask you what you want to be
Again and this time you can say

Something different and we’ll
Grow up better and smarter
Instead of growing up bad
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