A Note of Urban Decay

Welcome home

to such a foul

homecoming,

to such a return

and place of 

common and

past.

Of memories

once again

no more done

until the time

is right.

No time but now,

not so but

forever always as

such always and

of death so

not so and forever returned

and of

This place, this

place marked

both true

and such

a history.

Why the anxious?

So of stress.

What so can be

broken of an

urban upheaval.

Crossing annoyed

paths in so called

recreation.

The contrived fog

only hangs by

a rule of thumb

and a rude

word of state

of mind.

Stroke of drunken

concept and

always of that

forelorn stupor.

By the judgement

of the so

and reaped and

sewed and revealed

by federal laureates.

A note of urban

song sung and

repeated in the

soft wake of

the escaped and

departed.

Such of false

and concrete

romance of 

Californian lifestyles.

Old yet not traditions

are passed down

the decades

of why known

yet never.

Only such an archaic career

can be made?

Asked only in the paid toll

of the Berlin booth

and italian throwback.

Caused by

cigarette highs

and old friend like

enemies.

Long drafted and low

but known.

Undrowned despite darwin fish and 

dangerous genes.

Heated drives of

such unwanted

thoughts and insomniac 

demons.

Prepped only by

their loud calls

of non worked

beacon of will and only of 

the will.

Only time in such an impossible

stride and urban 

flow.

Will, only in lost disciples

forbidding dry banks.

Ended,

and ended once

and always again.

6/8/11

 

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