#streetpoetry
What lies between an intelligent quotient and a hint
A brand?
A fit?
Or a calculated bit
Informal infomaniacs
Hacking back on casket smack
Passed the dew dropping in on
a peaceful mind?
Spent is the overhang
Gone in the mourning
Becoming subjective in
Extended corrective measures?
Too late to digest in language
Goal rushed and repurposed
Ten gens separated in cursive
Obsolete ten day years ago
Now basking in fashion
As deposit shifts
Yes as deposit shifts, the lingo of epiphany eponymously conflicts
With the second hand in store
Now who did you borrow that for?
Feb 25
Feb 25, 2026 at 3:55 PM UTC
The ethical bet
Till ceilings are met
Cost me efficiency
Dialogues enter dependency
In, the, I can't speak
From
Who doubts the poll position
As I
Keep and create
Fixtures
Off of the market
Drowning in silence, thirst
Ample supply
First
Continued
All matters
Spoken for
Too rehearsed to be calm
Reflective
As
Invested dives
Diligence cries
Due process cracks
Ambiguous snacks
Taste test hypocrisy
That's down in points
As seen in literacy
We have recurring philosophy
But to interject with soliloquy
Does not
only registers
Have authority
Only copyright
In time
Purchased, gowned
And sublime reference to
Unoriginal signature
Stay ballistics up
While remaining on par
With what
Trial by who knows who
Feb 25
Feb 25, 2026 at 3:03 PM UTC
"inhale. exhale.
resilience is a circle.
a thread that never ends. later.
you'll savour this encounter with
delight as fresh as aloe. its audacity.
beating green in the grey heart of your city.
feral moment in your familiar day.
it will remind you of the parts of yourself
that are also a garden. a poem. a breath.
a single leaf among many."
poetry from a Barbican exhibition
Feb 21
Feb 21, 2026 at 3:30 PM UTC
"In the rubble of the world,
wisdom waits—
not in noise,
but in the hush between pages."
"They sit
where the city cracked,
writing futures in the margins
of a torn-up past."
"Two stars
fallen to earth,
learning about each other
by the light
of a red moon."
"Boots on broken stone,
hearts stitched in denim—
we read to remember
what the silence forgot."
"Rain slips through the scaffold gaps,
drumming stories on their shoulders.
They Walk on, sharing warmth
in a world that swears it has none."
Feb 11
Feb 11, 2026 at 5:35 AM UTC
"Under neon hum,
they trade secrets like currency—
small truths,
worth more than any coin
they’ve ever held."
"Night buses roar past,
but they stay rooted,
two silhouettes on borrowed ground,
mapping tomorrow
with nothing but hope and a pen."
"Morning finds them laughing,
sharing crumbs and sunlight—
two hearts warming
like hands around
a stolen cup of tea."
"They trade glances
as if they’re secrets,
soft things
they’re still learning
how to hold without breaking."
"On a rooftop edge,
the city humming below,
they lean closer—
not to escape the world,
but to imagine one together."
Feb 11
Feb 11, 2026 at 5:46 AM UTC
I came to buy four kilos —
one last patch,
and then enough, I told myself.
New faces.
Dead eyes.
A “wait here”
that tasted like metal and regret.
Lines on the table—
not kindness,
just bait
for whatever fool walked in breathing.
And my pulse whispered,
soft but sharp:
Wrong house.
Wrong men.
Wrong night.
Then he came in—
the goon.
Pistol low,
morals lower,
breath smelling like tomorrow
wasn’t promised to either of us.
**** product,” I said.
**** future.”
And I—
I slammed their brick
into his wall
like a prayer
nobody sane would say.
He raised the iron.
And there—
right there—
the old hunter in me woke,
like Fenris rising in my eyes,
my gaze going full Ragnarok.
I lifted the bag.
Met his stare.
Said,
“Sorry, man… I’m ****** up.”
Paid the devil.
Walked out alive.
Walked out shaking.
Walked out knowing
I shouldn’t have walked out at all.
Four kilos.
One gun.
One dead man walking.
But the one who died—
wasn’t me.
It was the man
I used to be.
And he stayed in that room.
On that floor.
Under that gun.
Where I left him.
Dec 2, 2025
Dec 2, 2025 at 5:19 PM UTC
Не смотри на меня и не лыбь свой смайл,
В голове твоей Опа-поцман-стайл;
Я тебе скажу: «Крошка, баю-бай,
В Ла-ла-ленд давай, уебай».
Грациозна как рысь — да особый кайф,
Мне чувак рассказал про твой фристайл,
Но, увы, ты не то, и не напирай,
Ты на жопу присядь, почитай.
👉 Bloch-Bauer & Adele · 2020 · Signature Privée
Aug 1, 2025
Aug 1, 2025 at 9:33 PM UTC
Red eye
Feelin lean up
Ready to sleep
There's a 1000
Things on my mind
Blockin my dreams
Im tryin to smoke
More to keep up
And get me some rest
But responsibility
piles
Up till it sits on
Your chest
I dont know about these lot
But im looking for steps
I aint workin for peanuts
So im lookin ahead
On my back
You see deepcuts
Dagger entrenched
But im a soldier
Keep breathin
And be at your best
See mana been under
Siege while peaking and
There's times i feel
Beat up
By the deeds and the depth
Things that should
Never been done
Start moving ahead
While you're just trying
To keep up
Each reason and check
Feeling like youre in the
Deep end
But your feet are on deck
Is a magical feeling
Till youre cheated instead
And everything youre
Doing is to be in a place
Where you can be
Yourself
But you're losing your
Head.
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 10:05 PM UTC
There's an infestation in my minds imagination
I hope they choke on smoke
Because I'm smoking them out the basement
This is not rap, this is not hip hop
Just another attempt to make the voices stop
Rapping to prove nothing
Just writing to say something
'Cause I wasn't the only one who wasn't rushing to say nothing
This doesn't mean I lost my dream
It's just right now I've got a really crazy mind to clean
Know what I mean?
No I didn't understand a thing you said
If I didn't know better I'd guess you're all already dead
Mindless zombies walking around with a limp and a hunch
Saying stuff like, "You only live once."
Yeah once. You got one timme to figure it out.
One time to twist and one time to shout
One time to think and I say we start now
Because death inspires me like a dog inspires a rabbit.
- Twenty One Pilots
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 1:08 AM UTC