(In) & (Out) of Street City Cork

A wander through the streets in November of a beautiful city.

Inside & out of street city Cork

I touch your taste

I feel your subsistence

 

In-between the hairs of my head

 

Journeyed snake-like through unknown

Kicked leaves and sunk gulped

Masquerading as this affected soul

 

Covered by skin

 

I drool the meat feast

But I keep knives

Under my belt

 

I scrawl words of nothing

That scream and implode

In short time

 

On piece of cut off finger nail

 

Pale faces up in garnish

Timber sarcophagus

Bend the asphalt connection

 

It is but the speaker’s honour

Trying to fight the records

But these words are worms in the sludge

 

Gathering on cut and blow floors

 

 

Reviews

[R J Askew]

the top makes it seem as if they city is exploring you. I like the self-shrinking notion of the soul being bagged up in a skin carrier bag. and the idea of your words being here and then gone I relate to. but I can't work out the knives. honour and fighting the records sounds like you enjoy the quest, but the worms suggest you think little of your chance. I am probably way off beam!

[Natalie C]

Oh I have to agree with BrightEyes, this is filled with such wonderful imagery that is makes it hard for ones mind to stand still in one place. However, I am guessing that is was your whole idea behind this poem, specially after reading your description. But what a brilliant tangled mesh of thoughts it truly was.

[BrightEyes]

wow I have to admit this was a lot of imagery to take in all at once; sending my feeble mind in several directions at once lol. it is definitely an intriguing poem; very creative.

laura :-)