It's dull dystopian clapped out rhythms for marching feet our chattering teeth protest unabridged, undammed some drip-dry dribblings of the explicit that careless drunk behind a post a dumb flea-bit dog lifting its leg defining free speech It belongs to the city grime and crime ennui and the fog of faith the disabled unburdening a poet's unbearable reality all bare truths, cold confusion as to how casual sex can be - only ugly shocks the new after the war took street fights to a bloody free for all It's the taste of flat champagne mediation in monotone some mindblown moulds, roulette and jazz for jagged nerves imagine escapism in reverse down, down with the gutter press up and away topping the high rise the astral plane's burning up tarmac but first let's call time time to beat the streets
For her Poetics prompt, Sanaa challenges us to write in the style of Allen Ginsberg and the Beat Generation
PoetryPix 
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