#underpass
blood
blood patter and splash
leads us concrete toward
tracing back til the scene
i’ve flashing thoughts of the brutality
the violence that must of cussed
between persons
in fear fray and inebriation
down the steps
my four year old child and I go
the greasing bleed in bronze putters
growing and leadening
on stone labours
glowing citrus the refrigeration
of the underpass
‘flips the bird' at the summer blaze
grey dead coral bricks of urination
seasoned in deep beading now cold
the broke up weapon
candy slates of brittle teeth
glass / bottle / beer /brown
the neck its' hilt
and the main mud of the bleeding
the flies are the thing
that bothers my ‘little nipper’
usually a flapper of queries on repetition
no other queries are raised
just eager for the vibration
of train carriages gatling over our heads
i stopper any words i may have on the matter
he holds my hand with his hot hand
we progress under a port arms
procession of caged floodlights
and walled in by fresh graffiti
fingers dripping retching for the guttering
Dec 22, 2023
Dec 22, 2023 at 3:05 PM UTC
underpass gallery
where urban Picasso's
tag the walls as their own
having never paid a penny
in tax to offer compensation
for their spray paint intrusion
or maybe a **** and *****
or just **** off
freedom of expression
being let out from under
the thumb of authority
mum and dad
school teachers
social workers
this is their voice
crying out into the darkness
of the unknown hereafter
that scares the **** out of them
perhaps we should listen
they are the future
perhaps we should be down there
with them
some of us could do
with a bit of freedom of expression
let some hair down
while there is still some left
to let
Oct 10, 2021
Oct 10, 2021 at 6:59 AM UTC
In the underpass sat a hunched male figure
wrapped in an old blanket
a woollen hat pulled down over his head
beside him his scruffy dog
his sad eyes following those walking by
listening his silent cry.
In front a small sign written in large letters
simply read please help me
a chipped tin mug placed close to his feet
some people showed him pity
putting loose change in before moving on
never asking what was wrong.
Not until that day man and dog were gone
was it noticed the empty space
at the same moment on a lonely riverside
a dog was barking frantically
running alone along the slippery wet bank
where a body had recently sank.
A blanket laid half submerged at the edge
definitely something was wrong
a couple ran oven concerned about the dog
spotting a body drowned
another life lost where nobody really cared
yet sadness they both shared!
The Foureyed Poet.
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 2:49 PM UTC