Poetry of the Streets

The night is filled with contradictions
Whiskey sours and sour faces,
An ambulance screams by
And by the way the siren wails you can just tell someone died

The shadows are creeping out of the side streets and gutters
Like evil spirits
And the hyena laughter of drunken chicks with sin on their breath, mock the dead

The booze spreads through my veins like a disease
And it burns a fever in my stomach like a goddamn dose of small pox
Overhead, clouds roll in
And the thunder growls
And the lightning snaps
And flashes
Revealing angels in silhouette against the sky
And the moon and the stars and the thunderous whine
Reminiscent of a funeral procession for a dead God

And back on earth the hustle and the droll
The filth of the streets
Terror and lust and the roar of the rebellious becomes the music of an age
And the poetry of the streets.

Poetry of the Streets

Wordslinger

Brisbane, Australia

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city streets

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