Child Urban Poems

Boredom awaits you
Throughout the years
When you get up to the hill,
There is fear that invades
The little child who walk up.
You would be afraid for your-self.
That's...

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These are poems for Ukraine and Ukrainians. 

We Are Here
by Michael R. Burch

“We are here.” – Volodymyr Zelensky

We are here. Were are here.
And we won’t...

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Seeing a drunk sprawled out
  on the front steps of a three-flat
and a beggar plying his trade
  at the end of the block

The...

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See the girls on the corner 
In tight tanks 
And micro minis
Popping gum
Locking eyes 
Driving boys wild
See the sunlight 
Outline their curls in gold
Memories of...

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harsh reality thrust into dreams
potential shackled to ignorance,
drugs, violence, poverty and neglect
innocent souls forever stained
no roadmap out of the abyss
unheard cries, unwiped tears...

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IT WAS SUPRISING TO HIM
HE DATED HER FOR MORE THAN A YEAR AND
WHEN SHE TOLD HIM SHE HAD MARRIED
NINE MONTHS BACK, HE STOOD SHOCKED
AND AMAZED.
SHE...

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Urban Jungle Blues

I am a survivor of the urban jungle!
Where walking in fear was a daily struggle.
Angry, violent, hostile people on mass 
transportation.
Cussing, spitting and...

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Too busy they were
the passing conglomerate
focused on pavement
eyes ever forward
with their get there stare of hedonistic servitude
trailing their marching tempo of mobile phones
hard in the...

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Child vagrant of the world
Of the parks
Of the arches
Of the wet ravines

You grasp from the wind
Stories and thoughts
And talk to yourself
About what’s not anymore

For friends?
You...

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Rapa Nui Warriors stand bright and tall and stark
Monolithic dynasties enshrined in all our hearts
But what if I told you, til death doth do us...

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I fear I might be woken up by gunshots,
as thugs attempt to break into my house.

I fear everything might have expired in the fridge,
because of...

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Step aside, bruh ...
you’re in the way
Can’t you see that progress
is being stymied ... moving backwards
not forward
Hard earned labor now taken away
Constitutional high jinx:
changing the...

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BETSY MEEK AND MILD

There was a cow called Betsy
She was gentle meek and mild.
A pretty coloured Jersey one,
Milked daily by a young child.

Betsy loved to...

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Motion

Everyone’s moving
So is the world
The child that once was
Has learnt to walk
And the stroll is now a run

Some on the track
Some beside it
It is either...

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the silence almost too heavy for my woozy body.
outside, kissing a cigarette, "goodnight",
i scuffled through the neighborhood. it was so quiet.
once i stopped moving, stopped...

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