Kensington Poems - Poems about Kensington

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The factories long disappeared, Silent structures still stay; And more drugs than dreams have appeared, In Kensington today. The north of the Ave has its shine, Less fine, southerly way; Best Philly, and worst, intertwine, In Kensington today. Six miles, in a small corner curled, “What matter?” you may say; Well, the world is here, here’s the world, In Kensington today. ...

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It’s sad when poverty leads to the proliferation of gangs and sales of drugs which leads in turn to addiction. No bigger open market for drugs exists than one where great homelessness grew. Gangs are thriving even to this day there on Kensington Avenue. Gangs of many ethnicities, prostitutes and miserable folk hang out there hooked on heroin, fentanyl and coke. A billion dollar market where...

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“When it is obvious that the goals cannot be reached, don't adjust the goals, adjust the action steps.” - Quote by Confucius ------------------------------------------------------------- Human errors beyond measure K and A avenue intersection smoking hurt needling pain losing love of live living addicted people mistreating people mistreated unconscious youth forgetful leaders ruptured vein dying humanity homeless theories weighed hopes failed lot lots failed ...

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*This poem was written for "Kensington Avenue Poetry Contest, Anthony Biaanco, sponsor, July 20, 2025 KENSINGTON'S LAMENT ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Her city streets are grey and worn, with a denim sky overhead. Birdsong trickles out in fractured waves, as if feathered friends cried while flying her way. Engines sputter; horns blare. People hurry by her in silence, eyes down, broken...

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The wheels of the chaotic times churn for them the sands of crushed dreams in the desert of desiccated life, settling frenzied on the unstratified fragile structure of the disorganized dunes of desolate existence. The sequestered moments of distressed awareness, drift the dust of disarray to the foyer of failed being. The truth of trustful conviction...

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Here they come with  an iPhone Go Pro Zv Max buddies in their ears bopping to old tracks dead cat on a mic push it in yer face what are you doing, girl? Tryin’ to turn a trick earn your Rhino tranq? Sneakers burning keeping warm sleeping standing got no dorm Here they come in their pink puffy glittering long fat coats frothy coffee, milk of oats. Come see the zoo; we got dead...

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Sit down, and let me tell you, son, about the historic district, Kensington, in the year eighteen-forty-four, when the streets broke out in war.  The Irish-Catholic were new arrivals, impoverished, fighting for survival. The existing population was disquieted, and so, Philadelphia nativists rioted. It was then that false rumors were passed. In a bad light, the Irish were cast, Propaganda and lies, the devil's tools, "They want...

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Where is this? Are we on Mars? America – just count the stores, capitalist carnivores. That so-familiar movie score, the swish of passing cars. The city built on Brotherly Love (Wells Fargo, Fitch and Abercrombie) at the mercy of Pam Bondi - was that a person, or a zombie? – What was Madison thinking of? Car’s no use: no place to park it. Arrested at a...

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Kensington Children of frustration when dreams rose from the heap the darkest of locations tell white lies as they speak open to persuasion when abilities are weak waves of degradation disturbs all those asleep awake the dispensation to turn the other cheek the house that they were raised in and company they keep a blur of segregation when summers burn with heat sit back for meditation and sow...

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"Sweet child in time, you'll see the line the line that's drawn between good and bad" Having cold sweats again in this godforsaken ninety degree heat. Shivering uncontrollably. God, what I'd do for a warm comforter right now. Zombies all around me mumbling incoherent poetry no one understands or even cares to hear. Young people half my age or...

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Years of silence I can't recall Tears I pant on the scrawled wall Clothes worn in an open cell Souls torn, drowning in smitten well Costumes worn by zombies Moving as mannequins, not gnomes Legumes not grown as beans or chickpeas Roving pass skull watchers of spumes My heart beating slow, recurring My voice bleating low, murmuring... Your soothing eyes I can't forget Looking into...

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what a potpourri mopery and dopery in Kensington town...

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"KENSINGTON" Written By: Billy Malloy I choose the path of the lonely, bitter and obsolete, I picked up survival techniques to make ends meet, I learned life lessons from emotions of death being beat, in more ways than one, then again in repeat, I wear long sleeves to keep the track marks discrete, I got...

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One percent of people are the king Of Kensington. The rest think that it's easy but they live in Leamington. How could all be happy there for all they have to live and think about the one percent who make it and who give? I'm the King Of Kensington. A man who lives as civil. I'll ask you how your day...

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