‘Urban Artist’ (a poem)


Urban Artist

Art born in urgency and illegality,
in ragged whispers and on tip-toe.
It tells mud-stained fairytales to burdened ears
with a sequence of sprays, pauses and strokes.

Dusty angular voices speak brutal truth
in their secret, rain-splashed hieroglyphics.
Tattooed on the flesh of brick-and-mortar angels,
graffiti spells out its own paradox.

A siren in the night is dragged away screaming
by its flashing blue hair, wailing protests to no one.
Left alone with relief and the urban silence,
this faceless prophet hears his own sweat fall.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s