martyred
Tupac Amaru Shakur
Los Angeles

thug poetry

40 ounces of malt liquor
Olde English and calligraphy

slurring my words…
sounds as if I’m speaking in cursive

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Wachefeld

 

Let’s start at the beginning

In a land of ice and snow

Where a brave band of armoured warriors

Set sail with sword and bow

To forge a new life far way

And settle in a land

Where the gods had promised riches

For each and every man

 

We sailed the mighty North Sea

And  by the grace of Odin’s beard

Landed safe in England

Where our kinsmen were ri...

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On the city's stage where shadows intertwine
The vampires rise with hungry eyes that shine
And the audience, lost in a desperate trance
Watches the dance of predators in their dance

The theater’s a broken mirror, cruelly it reflects
Each act a silent cry, in pain it intersects
Instead of applause, tears fall like rain
And the vampires with sharp teeth dance through the pain

They feast ...

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Beneath the skin of the city

its vital organs function:

not the ones you think I mean,

the staff whose manual actions

 

keep human beings hearty -

supplying power and food,

sweeping roads and pavements clean,

arresting fire or flood -

 

no, not those, I speak 

of parks and lawns and leaves,

of blossom flossed on trees like frost

that licence us to breathe:

...

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i got you wrong just like a half-existing woman, you scared the evening, istanbul was ratting that time (whatever it is) "so wittgenstein said..." you had fingers. they're tiny cigarettes. ...

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Often used as a fake New York city from 1920 but Manchester, you ain't fooling
nobody.
The mucky Neo Roman columns built on hurt and hierarchy are testemant to lives,
lived in poverty.
Lowry could see, he correlated the city funnels with, human misery.
Here I sit, here I stare, at the weathered wealth of my city,
Old buildings are barely standing,
Outflanked by looming apartments,
But I'm ...

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The sweetest memories hang
like negatives
in the dark room of my mind
I develop them occasionally
picturing again 
more exciting times

Yellows and browns begin to wash
across the leaves outside my window
I haven’t seen you in the flesh
since those shoots were new
it feels so long ago

We ran through those streets
as if we owned them
spinning endlessly from bar to bar
from joke to ...

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City lights,

Fireflies,

Half-hearted smiles 

And ugly cries.

 

Bustling roads,

Narrow and broad;

Abundant with shops and bars,

And people- their bodies, minds and souls scarred.

 

Edifices tall and sturdy.

Trapped in it are people content and happy;

And those walking on thorns, barbed and merciless;

And those breathing but lifeless.

 

The city is a plac...

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I used to hate this part of town
After London
it felt like stepping back in time
as if all our momentum to the capital 
had been lost
these shops with their hand-painted signs
I didn’t recognise the names
they’re not triplicated on every high street

And now I sit
in the Crooked Café
the waitress always tries to remember my ‘usual’
but I love that she never quite gets it right
gives u...

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London

means Abandon

No inibition

No frustration

No coalition

You wake up one day and without any sense

you're not sure if you love it or you're tense

Could be addiction

to the city's emission

if you're lucky, tuition

but oveall a sort of contrition

You want to be in that rollercoaster because it is actually a damn ride

but after that you won't be able to hide.

...

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At dream’s end 
we let the water flow
accepting
resolved

At dream’s end
loosening our grip
hold the best bits
release the scenes that never came

I imagined endless parties
some intangible heart that I could puncture
I imagined so much more
turns out it’s just another place 
moving at a heightened pace

Now I sit quietly
by the chequered flag
grateful to have run
chest heaving
...

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Dear friend
a sigh is leaving me
I can concentrate now, finally
a statue standing on the jetty
the lake’s slow wash below the boards
hypnotising me

I feel freer now than ever
more than I did back there
I don’t know how you toil on
those boiling days below the city
tinned-life crammed searching for air

You wrote of the love you found
that you always dreamed was waiting
head cocked ...

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THIS CITY

 

This life, this people, this city.

All living in a certain geographical area – here, this city.

Dying eventually, one day which only God knows.

Today under a tram or of old age.

This city with many names, is it like your city?

I know you were a cold war target, so were we.

People make love, fight, laugh, cry

in your city just like in my city.

You have been...

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I had a dream in that city again. Inside the nebula of chaos. It is night. The bookshelves of lights on the streetscape throb; red, yellow, cyan, red. It feels like Amsterdam dipped in oil. A black bridge leaps across an equally blackened street. A subway entry to the bottom right. The towers lurking at the back lean effortlessly over the road. The buildings are mere shadows, blacker than the nigh...

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We all hate the government
but what can you do 
just drink in the evening sun
talking with old friends

A little place I know
when our graft is done
we go…

Cobbled streets, thin passageways
snaking pipes embrace the buildings
in the shadow cast by evening sun
standing with good friends

A little place I know
let’s grab a bus
and go…

Who voted 'leave', not one man here
I'll sta...

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I leave by front door.  Climb up, north,

beyond cardboard houses lining the route

away from the roaring city.

But, no lie, sound travels; on bridges of air,

rivers of dust, canyons delved by word and cry.

The swarming bustle echoes down centuries;

building, toil, murder, love, revolution, dying birdsong;

hate, war; the engines of humanity, channelled, set.

 

I walk away,...

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A silent, night sky is loud with the city’s glow.

Reflections upon the water; lead thoughts below.

the humming is fuel to the fire,

    for the electric, funeral pyre.

Colors show who you really are around here,

    there is no time for fear.

Or is there? - where’s little sister?

    If you see her, say I miss her.

Wait.

Rain beating down like laughter on my ears;

  ...

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ODESSA - MY PRINCIPESSA

 

About many famous cities we can talk:

London, Paris, Naples or New York,

But when you walk along Odessa

You will love our principessa

If you are wise enough and not a bore.

 

The fact is such,

The fact is such:

There’s no city in the world

I love so much.

 

You will smile to the famous Duke,

From the second ...

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They dwell in strange rooms
the murky recesses of affordability
barely buildings, bedrooms with sinks
chair pushed up against the door
flakes of lives flung everywhere
A curtain, a quilt - who can really say?

A bare bulb hangs in an open window
no shade inside from day or night
Still lives go on; the rudimentary,
ramshackle, clutching at homeliness
the need for shelter unites us all
...

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Somewhere, the 9 till 5 office worker stops me with a deadpan stare,
Fixes me with the times of timetables passed, the graph paper squares
Of tomorrow’s schedule. The high-rise offices never bother to look down.

I never liked the city.

Never really cared
for the city’s callousness, its daily suicide,
the shadow at the top of each building that watches with certainty.

C...

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CITY UNDER THE SEA

 

Thousands of years ago there stood a huge prosperous city on the shores of the Mediterranean Sea.

Sea level was lower then and the ocean was smaller and less deep. Over the years the sea level rose, covering and drowning this magnificent place.

Many people tried to stay to ride out the storm but the flood of water became deeper and deeper until it was ...

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Oh to be once more in the depths of green

Escape from the bustle of the present mainstream

Soak up the magic of natures verdant glory

Linger there a while and pen the story

For refuge what can ever surpass this haven

An acorns throw away from the commercially enslaven...

 

©Rhumour 

August 10th 2009

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