Private City

This is a poem from an unpublished collection of mine. I never thought that I will revisit it but what the heck.

(13) Private City

Crippled streets, caressed by void and echoes
Sound reflections bounce
Provoke awakenings of reckless dreams
In the sweat of the day’s remains
They fornicate...
Threatened by shadows they shiver in dark alleys
In fear they are drowned

Captured portraits of desperation
Imprisoned on the pavement slit
Wade in a maze of structures
Among blueprinted designs, premeditated layouts
They illustrate, sing, and recite pain
Exposed nerve endings all but desensitized by rain
A rebelling mob of senses uncovered, undaunted
Almost heroic, somewhat noble

Residential memories succumb, repent
Betrayed by temporal vibrations of conscious minds
Fade away, pulsating at a stoplight’s dull tempo
Avenues named after brands of alcohol and nicotine
Neighborhoods of undisclosed realities
Replicate in time, space
Feverishly seek
The panacea to injuries unique to the soul

Body trespassing boldly into the mind
Mind raging merciless into the heart
Heart, forfeiting to renegade mornings,
Excommunicates past and present Gods
With fervor and anorexic exhilaration
Their sacrificial altars cast shadows no more
Archaeological remnants buried deep beneath
The city with crippled streets
Caressed by void and echoes.
MasterKosh MasterKosh
36-40, M
Jul 28, 2010