Memory Urban Poems

there's something there, that draws me in,
like a mosquito to a flame. 
my sorrow blooms, it swells away
so swiftly - keeping me at bay.

i glance...

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Tonight 

I rediscovered 

Boulevard of Broken 

Dreams on a jaunt through 

Glasgow’s October-lit streets. Rain 

drippin’ off chin. Momentarily wishing 

I was more like I...

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Written: August 04, 2023
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In a city once vibrant but now left forlorn,
Where residents vanished, as ghosts, they were torn,
Loneliness was unfiltered, it filled every street.
A...

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Suburban waste stretches beyond and far away
Languishes under the hot hazy sun
Seasons reap
Memories run
Remembering things better left unseen
Memories reel in the theater on the mind
Things...

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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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when industry
stood on this soil
with chimneys that 
spewed sweat and toil
the furnace fires 
relied on mines
through arteries 
of railway lines.

now looking back 
to charcoal skies
through...

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Ocean girdled nation had prospect for absolute containment
Overseas observers, in distant comfort, complacent 
Wuhan origin arrivals sparked a catastrophic failure
Leaving lock down 25th January, flying...

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Urban

Dare to touch me without any rules. 
Dare to see the spectacular view on us
In the nearest past
Covered by shadows, covered by dust. 
How passionately...

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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...

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My autopsy room is a confessional, 
where killers in absentia divulge 
their sins through bodies
rigid and frigid, mutilated and mute.

Graffiti of abrasions, contusions and lacerations
reenact...

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I’ve read your status updates
And admit I’m frazzled
Your mind reads like a puzzle
I’m running behind

Much uncovered 
But nothing discovered
Subtle signals. Clever optics 
Quit these tactics
I...

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Urban Lengend



His name is only whispered, his face is hardly seen
A legend to everyone that grew up on these streets

Some called him a vigilante, some...

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There once was a long vanished England;
Of well-spoken presenters 
Of the BBC Home Service,
Light Service, and Children’s Favourites, 
Of coppers and tanners, and ten bob...

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Slouching on the evening train
Ravelling through old anxieties,
It better than eye contact with robots
Haplessly Shuffling on and off 
The deepest and fondest memories appear
Through the...

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His clothes were smelling liquor and vomit
of the previous night,
together with the rubbish bin that he tripped
over, as he tried to look for an exit...

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