at the streetville of flowers

they came with mops, brooms, 
   buckets on streets,
and swept off the beggars,
   homeless, clueless
addicts slumped on my feet-
   cruising between

my arms, spray-painted by  
   electric green
and psychedelic orange-
   my head, turban
of colorful stories-
   erased to white-  

i'm restored melody
   flowing breezy-
i'm saving grace among 
   eyesores & punks-
i flow as flowers do 
   flowering to the sky

shimmering false-blue hues-
   stop!  it's bleached!
the whole city is tangle
  of rotting bones 
coated with fresh garden air
  for VIP guests

so I stand still
  dreaming of sunflowers
buzzing of insects- 
  collecting rain in pockets-
my nose runny 
  with smog by whizzing cars 

  

Posted for dVerse Poets Pub - Street Art or Culture, Hosted by Lillian ~  This is theme: I’ve posted five examples of street art for folks and ask them to pick one and somehow write about it. Images in public domain at Pixabay.com. Only requirement is that folks post the accompanying image.

The trespasser

When city slips into night beat
And streets are near-empty
of cars 
He comes out
marking back alleys
With his signature 
eccentricity

With pitted cheeks  
He struts
like he owns all street
corners 
yellow-pissed by homeless 
beggars
whores, pimps
drunkards 
gypsies with tarot 
And all the nobodies 

stencil-blued 
by moon
perfectly round
above split-level condominiums  

Graffiti Alley, Toronto City @Grace

Posted for Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - 55 Words - Trespasser
and Poets United - Thanks for the visit ~

Inked by street artist

Streets whirl from wheels & neon lights

Metallic doors click  
Every second on subway
You close your eyes, basking the sun
You're muse above our electrical poles  

What dreams do you dream? 

Posted for Imaginary Garden for Real Toads - Taking it to the Streets & Word Count with Mama zen ~  Happy April Day ~

Picture credit:   here 

Forever bicycles

Toronto's Nathan Phillips Square

3,144 bicycles by Chinese artist and activist Ai Weiwei 

Photo credit: Kanwar Sandhu

this 
is what our sky looks:   

tower of wheels, frames & gears

stacked in stainless steel & metallic paint

the smell of gas, smog & paved roads

fanning our cheeks with humid 
air 

this 
is how our city stands:

leaning forward, eyes on fast turn

of cars across super highway, one foot pressed

on gas pedal racing against the clock- by grid-

 lock, we crowd, an indistinguishable 
face-

this 
is what we have become:

mechanically pounding city streets

chasing another sale or dollar, cycle/in/cycle 

we say we're lucky we got a job but who's 

minding rice fields, fish ponds &  
forest?

sun - 
a slit behind grey clouds,

is off-center, less king in our eyes

perhaps a dying star, but we're busy taking shots of bicycles- 

no handlebars nor seats, an art statement  

or a silent protest:  is this 
progress? 

Posted for:   D'verse poets pub - OpenLinkNight - Happy Tuesday to all ~