Tag: Poetry

The streets are dark and desolate at this time of morning,
The cold wind whips up dust and discarded plastic,
A street pumper hovers into place, and dirty yellow hoses are ejected,
Ground bolts secure the pumper as it empties its tank,
The dirty, pale, unshaven operator puffs vape smoke,
A dim white light from inside a visor, illuminates his bearded face,
The operator stares emotionless at a passer-by,
The blue glow of the walker’s umbrella cane is distracting,
Blue light reflects in the puddles and on wet window glass,
Clad in a long unassuming black coat, the pedestrian walks on,
Passing beneath the super structure of a building, and into a lane,
Posters of desperation and entertainment combine, covering the walls,
Phosphorescent kanji graffiti adds a glowing additional layer to the path,
A narrow slit of white light, and construction waste lines the pavement,
Rain puddles, provide shimmering beauty amongst the chaos,
Sudden colourful bursts of neon advertising buzz and alternate,
Reflecting in the dark glasses and on the expressionless face,
Stepping out of the lane onto the main street, the walker waits,
As two teen punks on illuminated hover scooters zip past silently,
Crossing the street and back into the shadows, the journey soon ends,
At a large black metal door, unlike the walls, it is graffiti free,
Wind momentarily shifts the pedestrian’s coat, revealing weaponry,
Dark glasses are lifted, a red retinal scanner beam confirms entry,
A display reads, 黒 Kuro Syndicate member 32549 entry granted.
The door unlocks, opens, and a new workday begins.

*Excerpt from 'Infinite Black: A Grey New World'.

In this metropolis the sky is made of constant rain-soaked night,
Reflecting neon, shines in puddles and on pale weary faces,
The city streets are crowded, as people escape cell-like apartments,
Some shelter under awnings, or huddle, begging in doorways,
Many face the rain beneath illuminated umbrellas, or dark hoods,
People are the landscape, they pack pedestrian bridges and fill arcades,
They shout from balconies above, fighting to be heard,
Shady deals are made in the sprawling city’s dark corners,
Under skyscrapers covered in illuminated signage that pierce the clouds,
The narrow street markets burst at the seams offering their wares,
What you can’t afford to buy, you must trade to obtain, or steal,
Becoming overwhelmed is easy, commercials float in the sky,
Digital advertising, posters, speakers, announcements, music, sirens,
A million plus sounds all echoing at once,
The darkness delivers exceptional sensory bombardment,
City stench is pungent, street cooking combines with vehicle fumes,
Litter lines the streets, stirred by slow ineffective street sweeping vehicles,
Busy crossings speak and beep, police with LED batons direct traffic,
There’s nothing you can’t get here on the black market, crime is rife,
Life here is sickening, unemployment is high, and desperation fills the air,
There are red-light districts, body modification districts, and worse,
Everybody here is hustling just to stay alive, this city eats people up,
Homeless die silently in alleyways, addicts overdose on pavements,
It’s one of the last remaining fully intact cities following the machine war,
This is Grove Zero (G0), Central City, the murderous heart of the new colony.

*Excerpt from 'Infinite Black: A Grey New World'.