London Poem by Michael Bisson

Shattered concrete roads are scattered
Voices, whispers, no pathway chatters
Neon lights of all the colours transcending
Into mist, coughing up from diesel trucks and upturned double deckers leaking fuel they hiss.

Treading/plodding/stamping feet, all the different rhythms, holder and possesion belonging to the street.
Curtains twitch like dancing flames of amber burning candles,
peering eyes they meet at all the angles.

The city of Ravens, rats and roaches
Alive but feels unwell
It chews and then it swallows and spews the thoughts of which you dwell
The sun it offers shadows, the sun has turned to ash
You've hidden all your prized possessions, theres no more need for cash.
Just letters, films and photos you keep them all well stashed

We tremar for our loved ones, we always keep them close.
For fear of walking scavengers, we have to watch the most.
By Michael Bisson