Dark City

Just an RSVP ... I'm coming to this party with my date, YouTube, it's taking her a while to pick out the right dress.  I just hope we're not late.

Mapped Propoganda

Pick any city, any day
or time
there's always a distinct
dividing line
between those that have
and those that had
or had no chance

behind the high rises
under the bridges
the poverty rampant
so often dismissed
used to be Veterans
mentally ill
addicts, and delinquents
now there's working folks
with children
hungry and sick
and the shelters are full
food pantry's gone bare
no money for medicine
or medical care

behind the bikini's in Miami
under the bright lights of Manhattan
just beyond the tourist scenes in Atlanta
Denver to Knoxville, same disaster

USA today
won't report the reality
as even school districts
find there's no food
books, or humanity
still, they pass round tins
collect money for Africa

Tell the world through faulty media
here we are beautiful and wanna see ya!
we'll bus off the homeless
and present the olymics
hide all the victims
away from the tourists

as they walk around Disney
eating from buffets
guzzling super soda's
never straying from the maze

these days of information
easy access and connectivity
when will anyone see
behind the governors map
of the city

VIDEO POEM: http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/113760-the-cross/

The Cross


I saw him three times
On three ordinary days
Greeted on each day with a smile.
Then I had a vision… sweet angel.


I

I walked alone along
The melancholy strip
Against the flow of the
Desperate and bewildered.

I approached a scene
Of tribal ferocity,
A callous ritual
Unnoticed and neglected.

Mercilessly thrusting
Boots and fists
Savages let loose
On a lame body.

Blood! O’ Lord,
There was blood,
So purple was the
Tide of blood.

They broke him good,
Every bone and all he owned.
They admired their work
And walked away.

The mangled face turned to
Mine and just smiled.
“Dear God, forgive
These tainted souls.”


II

I walked alone along
The melancholy strip
Against the flow of the
Filthy and forgotten.

Whores line the walls
So do holes and buckets.
Lusty bodies of all sorts
Marked, wrinkled and scarred.

Through a shop window
Wet flesh pounded in
And out real hard.
I stood and watched.

Pain veiled in pleasure
O’ Lord, they
Screamed and begged
For your mercy.

A girl tapped my shoulder,
Face blue and torn,
Like the tatters of cloth she held
Its naked body raped.

I gave her a smoke
She replied only with a smile.
“Sweet Jesus, save us
From our own hands.”


III

I stand alone on
The melancholy strip
Watching the flow of
Hustlers and fools.

Young misfits do deals
And lepers get stoned.
Defied is the law, my uniform
And a madman that stands alone.

I am approached
In a blur of terror the dark
Figure yields a cut-throat razor.
Money, gun and badge are seized.

So helpless and hopeless
I cower to my knees
And did what I had to do
And he smiled at me.

“Dear God, your people
Grow weak in their faith
I ask you to forgive us
And free us from this hell.”

A child now stands before me
Glowing in a brilliant light
His arms open wide…
I smother him in my embrace.


Written and produced by Alexander Case

Thank you Poetic Engineer and miki for your entries. Alexander, that vid rocks! Thanks for your entry.

Lobo and Carpe, don't let me down now, on those vids...

Judging this comp may just drive me to distraction.

Dark city

Cursed into darkness it rose
A city that never sleeps
It stands taller than all it's foes
In the deepest admits of deceit

The twilight swirling angry
Blocking gods from sight
Thunder and lighting roaring
Sustaining the city's might

Industrial surrounding walls
A prison built by our hands
To keep us from getting cold
Yet homeless and hungry still lands

A plague of selfish decisions
That will burn the city down
If the gods could see
They would surely frown

For the darkness is the devil
His prison to cause hate
No beauty masks deadly power
No, its too late

Thanks Elliot.

Last day, make it count!

Video submission: http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/114679-dark-city/

DARK CITY

She is a mistress to the carnal pleasures of the shadows
And our souls echo her screams when she's mounted and He suckles at her breasts
Her milk
Thick
Warm
Crimson

She succumbs to pleasure in our wounded eyes
Our battles fought daily but they've already been lost within her deified walls
Remnants of His seed lie abandoned just like any man's after He's pulled out His shaft
Homeless
Stained
Dead

We course through her pulsating veins and arteries giving breathe to her existence
An orchestrated odyssey
relegating all to their chambers and camps
Numbered
Monitored
Patrolled

Like any seductress she's told to sell
Hope
Dreams
Fantasies

Its sold just like the whore that she is
It's bought in her
Chapels
Temples
Mosques

And any bodega or newsstand for a dollar
24
7
365

Bought and sold leaving  just enough of our dignity to feed our children
And our own wanton needs

When He's done with her for the night
And He sees the sun announced by the cockcrow
He gets up and begins to dress
His suit impeccable
Ageless in its design

Red

White

and Blue



All images were taken by the poet for this competition

SEE VIDEO HERE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=mhzF4Q4ePT0


Finer Things

A once in a lifetime Hayley from the heavens
Like the comet rising every 76 years lighting
The lamps in the midnight blue corridors beneath
My skin as my heartbeat’s jazzy snare roll assures
My stealing is no longer selfish.
I see Charley Chuckles has a fifth of night train
He keeps at his side for a sunrise hair of the dog
Deep in that sweet London Fog coat
He peeled off a shot up dead man last month.
Cigarette holes and bleach stains
And a body still warm,
Death begets a bargain if you know where to look.
Charley’s early to bed and once his apnea kicks in
He’s gasping for breath but still out till dawn.
Always even money that he makes it up at all
So tonight I’m gonna get us that bottle.
I’ll wipe his spit off and get that glass
Nice and shiny and we’ll toast to the stars
Hidden behind the low rain clouds and that high
Belongs to only you and I tonight.
I ain’t never been a boy scout
But I found me a zippo lighter
Royal blue with a New York Mets logo
And I’m gonna catch us a pigeon,
Cook the shit out of that bird,
Turn that grimy fowl into the most awesome
Finger lickin’ chicken you ever tasted.
Noodle neck Nellie’s got a guitar missing
Two strings but he sounds like a symphony.
Some fella at the shelter swore
He used the thick E string
To strangle a man in Tallahassee ,Florida.
The thin E string broke because of exuberance.
We’re pretty good though and he’s got this pretty
Blues thing makes you cry if you listen too hard.
I’ll ask him to play it a beat or two
Faster so we can dance.  
I found this nice roll of shag wool
By the dumpster behind the carpet store
And I’ll get us a good squat
Underneath the Slocum Street bridge
Where we can watch the neon
Light up the asphalt in the rain
Like some holiday fireworks.
And I’ll hold you close
And I’ll hold you tight
But it ain’t for a cheap feel
Or dry humping or anything ulterior.
It’s just that you’re the only thing
I ever found on the street
That’s worth a damn
And now this city so bloated for so long
With broken promises and the blood
Of innocence finally breeds hope
Showing off a shine I’ve never seen
And a road to salvation begging to be taken.

Thoughts of London Town

In Camden town all anyone wants to do is express themselves. Through inked skin, stretch lobes or any other way that's trendy right now. All we want to do is leave our mark on the world
but how?  

I want to leave my essence ingrained so deep in the tarmac of London Town that it will forever scar it's soot stained soul
but how?  

Express yourself  
Express yourself  
Express yourself  

Chase pipe dreams and legends  
Find love and lose it, look death dead in the face and spit  
I live in a city of 7 million heartbeats and not a one can hear mine or I theirs
Loneliness will kill us all in the end but it won't stop us from avoiding our neighbours, logic and life's purpose defies us all and yet still we look....

Look for beauty

Look for hope in the shadow of the lights cast by kindred spirits  
Look for the purity of natures hidden workings and surround ourselves with creature comforts which deny us that very thing we aspire to cleanse our being with

Beauty  

Hear the heartbeat of the city in pounding beats and feel its breath on your face as it escapes from the vents  

Find the beauty  

We are but products of nature and nature bleeds beauty onto the dirt for lost ones to drown in  
If only we knew where to look
Feel your hair lift as the city sighs  
Close your eyes, lean back and watch as the city lights twinkle and fall past like ethereal tears shed to mourn the ravages of the passing years and something......  

Something else  

Something more  

Something more that everybody remembers but nobody knows  
We all search but we can't find it
But somehow we all know that something is wrong  
We know it from the moment we take our first breaths and open our eyes, it's why we cry.  

Nothing is missing  
The nothing we come from  
The nothing we are heading towards  
It's not here  

But I will find it


YouTube link

http://youtu.be/5UeWnbgvMxk

"Being Bohemian"
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/images/uploads/poemimages/114702.jpg
(A Remembrance of Renate)  
 
Her name was Renate,  
a country-girl  
with a tattoo  
of the crescent-moon  
on her shoulder,  
a daisy on her hip.  
She seemed so together,  
a free-thinker  
floating on  
the winds of change.  
She exchanged her  
sanity for the drugs,  
which made her feel real,  
the raw-sex completed her.  
Sadly,  
all the guys    
she wanted to please  
forced her    
to her knees,  
seeking penance,  
she agreed to    
their selfish demands.  
In a haze,  
her days wallowed away  
servicing the  
same lost souls.  
Some of them  
called it love,  
but it was nothing  
more than  
selfish-satisfaction,  
nothing less.  
No wonder    
her parents    
forgot about her,  
that was    
the saddest part  
of being bohemian  
in the big city.

OK, people... I am gonna go through and judge. This is your last chance to indicate

1. A different name from your username for those chosen for publication
2. a YouTube link of a reading
3. If you're not OK with the chance of being published

PM me or post here. Thank youuuuuuuuuuuuu.

Oh, Strider, only one entry is allowed per poet. Please tell me which entry you would like me to consider, thanks!

Well done, everyone.

This competition yielded some great work!

I will keep you posted on the magazine side - entries are currently with the editors for selection.

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Thanks

Congratulations to all the winners most especially to Atakti for hosting a very challenging and meaningful competition. Wish I had the time to add a visual reading...maybe next time!