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Artificial city-dwellers
Discard all humanity
Carbon fired tin cans
Pierce the serenity.

Anonymous collisions
Fifty floors below
Each passer by a stranger
You will never know.

Pedestrians, travellers
And their vehicles
Droplets in a river,
Altering the tidal flow.

Irrigation passages
Absorb the elements
Hedge fund panellists,
Bankers and workers flee.

Eye rolling baby boomers
Sit, tutting one by one.
Nervous millennials adorned
In clothes for moths to eat.

Breaking point carriages
Century old tunnelling
A lone foot tapping
And quiet page turning.

Brakes hit the track
Piercing the murmur
Eighty jarred necks
External motion blur.

Sliding carriage doors
A not-so-subtle beep
Dust kicked from dawn
Falls onto the city streets.

Blue tower inhabitants
Busting out of the seams
Water molecules collide
But nothing sinks the fleet.

Smartly suited eye-darters
Push and pull for space
Rolling up the banks
Humanity erased again.

I settle on the brickwork
Until the storm retreats
Circadian commuters
Run to rest their feet.

A few lonely meanders remain
Wondering down the beach
Forlorn festivies fog over
Swinging shop-signs squeak.  

As the lighting rig descends
And once blue ceiling stains
The beige brickwork turns red
The high tide admits defeat.

Pink light turns to navy blue
A faint moonbeam lights the sky
Obscured by one cloud then a few
Vague incandescence lights the scene.

The streetlights flicker overhead
One worn out passenger now leaves
Shrouded, cold, hungry and fulfilled;
Abandonment for some is peace.
Kenopsia: The eerie, forlorn atmosphere of a place that’s usually bustling with people but is now abandoned and quiet.
As wires round the world get lighter and thinner
Your news scroll feeds you various homicides,
From desktops at noon to plasma at dinner,
The auto-cue scrolls through this week’s most viral.

The network fail to mention the other seven billion
Who kept living their life devoid of such sinning.
Disquiet on your perch, picture your pleasure:
Hopping alone, around your enclosure.

The window slides up, wind ruffles your feathers.
Beak to the bars, you're helplessly tethered.
Yell 'til you're heard, ’til you’re hoarse and unkempt,
Yell 'til the neighbours are mad and hell bent.

Step back to your pedestal, tapping your feet,
The rhythm you summon traverses the streets.
Nearby inhabitants sit watching their screens,
Warn-out, occupied, unfulfilling their dreams.

Tip-tap-a-tip-tap-a-tip-tap away the evening and next day.
Now you live vicariously through social media,
You cannot stop tweeting, lonelier… lonelier.
Connections you make get quicker and quicker.

‘Life is the greatest’ upon appearances,
You pick and you carve a residual image;
The best fools fool themselves into submission,
Post exponentially, build on your rhythm;

Second life, third face, prosodic yet speechless,
Your diary now echoes, empty and featureless.
Stare at your screen, silent and grinning;
Hive mind rewired, this story needs spinning.

Forget losing face, that farcical demeanour.
The needle wobbles on your false life fever,
As sunlight exposes where your cage is broken,
The tether is loose but you're past noticing.

Shared knowledge free of charge, constantly flowing,
Ignore others' viewpoints, or pleas to come in.
The glass in the window is brilliantly glowing,
There's fire outside that your posts have been stoking.

White noise, connection lost, you're no longer hosting
That multi-channel, fibre-optic, bandwidth expansion.
Untether your Ethernet, the cage disappears
Find sanctuary outdoors when quiet is near.

The caged bird tweets devoid of all reason,
Fooling itself about its own lack of freedom.
Much like a sestina repeats it's hook
Our lovers and idols, ever prophetic,
Sew meaning into quivering arcs.

Desaturating the still, all becomes clear
Unscramble the motion in the film
The cover image foregrounds.

Remove the chaos of every day
Plot points pinned to a story-line
We spin ourselves back in time.

As one song may last a lifetime
Churning the same harmony,
Of the few who never leave.

Worry changes no forking paths
So worry not and sonder still
Time clarifies, distilling all.

A viewpoint in the stratosphere
Changes the night sky forever
Yet, the seasons remain the same.

One prolonged glance into the sky
Listening to this primordial beat;
Here, true lovers, idols and myself
Glide through space eternally.
Second flop first fold, ***** face, benign.
Stale mist drips from the above air vent
Thump. Snap. Thump. Snap. Almost in time.
Acute tremble, double bluff, card corners bent.

Big blind, little deaf. Eyes on the road.
Tortoise to rabbit, calm calculation.
Slow motion bullet drop, auto reload.
Don't... let... the penny... drop.

Tilt back from your desk, indebted, subdued,
Four legs on the floor was always too safe,
Kick back, relax... tip ninety degrees
Clarity comes after a fall.
The cogs screech from the clock.
Calendar entries hit terminal velocity.
The mantelpiece cracks and decays.
Alive in lost living, dreaming life away.
The crude tally on the kitchen walls,
A barometer of  missed encounters.

The whistle through the window
Which ripples through the curtain.
The tap of water from the sink
Makes me feel uncertain.
The world is utter chaos
Until you bring me peace.

The friction of a page turning
As you smile to yourself
Even the clock is unwinding
After a series of sudden judders
Each tick of the minute hand
Longer than the last.

One minute of stillness triumphs
A year of overwhelming noise.
The chrysalism of your company
Is worth a hundred years of thunder.
And through all this I anger fast
Because you leave me still.
Strangers marvel as they pass
At the fire that never leaves
Yet barely any stop to look
Or rest their aching knees.

The furnace which you left alight
Still rages without witness;
A thousand feigned attempts to douse,
It burns on without forgiveness.

The fire burns brighter still
Flames cracking the furnace
Yet the fuel which burns brightest
Is often the easiest missed.

The fire rages, crackles, hisses
No moisture left to soften,
In the nighttime as well as day
The fire sits forgotten.

Another sits, hands outstretched
Loosening their furrowed brow
They smile, stand and turn around
Then wonder back into the cold.

The fire leaps our, barely contained
Destined to grow stronger
Where others burn themselves to sleep
The furnace melts instead.
‘One may have a blazing heart in one’s soul and yet no one ever came to sit by it. Passers-by only see a wisp of smoke from the chimney and continue on their way’

Vincent Van Gogh
Crick neck adventurer, a backpack of worries
Through the heat of day the rat-pack chortles on
Through errands and favours revenue wavers
Lunch time arrives, alone and hurried.

The myriad of workers all shattered and broken
Complementary cityscapes remain inescapable
High tech offices can still be dystopian
Eight hours spent well, dreamt of eloping.

Twice daily gaze avoidance, in a cold rolling tin
Public transport gaslight, nobodies talking
Level crossings stay shut without fair warning
Drivers at traffic lights fend off wardens.

A twenty car pileup with zero casualties
Gridlock at rush hour, boredom eternally
Look out the sunroof towards the contrails
Dreams of escaping, a matter of urgency.

Overhead, the most beautiful of tapestries
Each one a trail to the temporarily free
The sun in this case, a dog for a flee
Migrate for a week, sit among the trees.  

The cycle goes on as you don't have the money
Yet venture capitalists adventure freely
All expenses paid, hands rub greedily
Shouting to the world 'I want you to pay me!'

Nothing pillaged nothing earned
Bear witness to the 'altruistic economy'
Climb onto haveness mezzanines
Stroll down avoidance alley.

Open your front door, the handle falls off
Take a smoke and climb up the chimney
Sit on the slate and draw the scenery
All glass houses need stone underneath.
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