Best Urban Poems

*Murder most foul. Rod Serling, Stephen King or Ellery Queen?


Picturesque place on the edge of nowhere, small town American life.
Suddenly subject to media glare, reports of the mayor's missing wife! 
Search parties, rescuers, all on the scene with rumors of mischief afoot.
People keep asking, "What...

Continue reading...

Above, the shrill of neon lights portend
a promise of new love in garish hues,
but for a broken life yet on the mend
the darkness of the scape brings only views
of solitude when memory accrues
as strangers unimpassioned eyes peruse.

The music wafts from grottoes down below,
blue jazz and...

Continue reading...

Here I go again, focused on myself.
Remembering, analyzing,
Memorializing tragedy.
Thinking, endless thinking.
Suicides, death of grandmas, past loves.
Pining about passions and losses.
The condo I had to let go.
The jobs I left behind.
And the cemetery lots.
My mind wonders around in circles.
From darkness to darkness, city to city,
Job to...

Continue reading...

I am the ring around Saturn
spinning words as particles of ice and dust
with the power to transcend

I am the original chosen to be right here right now
transmitting verbal frequencies 
through speaking my thoughts into existence

I am the heir of omnipotence,
born with a direct connection to...

Continue reading...

Obsessed with the thought of you
wondering if it's only me or
if you sometimes remember the sweet things you've said
and if you meant them how I took them
or if I'm just obsessed with what's in your head

Obsessed with your very sentences
Every response I take personal
I know...

Continue reading...

The shell remains
picked clean by hungry vultures
ravenous with greed.
Gouged-out eyes
now bare hollow sockets
vacant in their stare.
Morsels of choice parts 
deftly stripped or torn away—
and gutted vitals, furtively devoured,
have filled the wanton needs 
of scavengers who shared the feast. 
The carcass rests 
flat on bony frame
supported...

Continue reading...

A babbling stream, a peaceful lane
These are the things that I enjoy
As I walk on a summers day
With a warm gentle breeze upon my face

A cottage in a field, with swirling smoke
A family sitting round ready to eat
Rich chicken soup and freshly baked bread
Then five...

Continue reading...

Friends and trouble go hand in hand.
Legends of the  neighborhood.
Like statues  and vacant buildings  still stand.

A crime in plain view no one ever saw.
Held hostage in fear.
The mouse sturggles to escape from 
cats claw.

Blood on the bricks  that stains my mind.
Time...

Continue reading...

The cruel streets I walked made me sad
I looked not at him, nor at her
Those who passed me by, gutter grads
I felt at home among the curs
We were outcasts from hearth and home
Over the land our kind did roam.

Looking here and then searching there
As many...

Continue reading...

A Mother’s Love…

How precious is the love
 of a mother’s heart!
Even as a child…  It’s there from the start.

A mother’s love knows
 no boundary or limit.
It’s often shown by how 
much the mother gives it!

Whether her children are 
young or growing old…
And whatever circumstances
...

Continue reading...

1.
they say everything here is
somewhere in the middle of the road
where names get bleached and keys forget about their doors
and there is something we should dig our coated nails into; 
the layers of regret and anger
that our mothers tell us to peel off 

2.
but the...

Continue reading...

Brown eyes so deep with anger and pain yet, so hypnotising and sweet they 
tempt my soul.

Lips so soft and warm, such harsh words for such gentle lips. Kiss me so I can 
feel your pain.

An embrace so safe and secure that could crush you...

Continue reading...

The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes.  Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has...

Continue reading...

$hawty Got $wag

Shawty got swag,
Shawty mad dope.
Face all cheesin’,
She real turned up.
Goin’ to da club,
She steppin' wit her peeps,
Lookin’ so ratchet,
She’s straight up hoochie.

No racks in her pocket,
No stacks in her wallet,
But she all into bubbly
Slurpin’ and burpin’.
Lookin for a big baller,
Who’ll give her wat...

Continue reading...

A void of Facebook
Creativity dies here...
Procrastination!...

Continue reading...