An Artists Impression.

My goodness, its been quite some time since I've used this blog. Do I feel guilty about it? No chance, I've been applying for university, give me a break! Recently though, I did go to America, specifically Missouri and New York City! So I wrote a poem about it.

An Artists Impression

I go.

Chasing you.

But, captured in my hand,

Is the spirit of this land.

It leads me through barren plains,

Leads me through chills and wanes,

It floats up high, then flickers down,

Leading me to the place of noise and sound.

You capture my gaze,

Brown hair, brown eyes, brown skin, a blur.

Like a dazzling sunset,

Settling on a dusty sky.

Something to be chased,

Something to be wanted.

Do I follow?

Yes, still I go.

The city falls into vision.

The place of wasteful thoughts and wrong decision.

A fumbling mass of nothing good,

People walking, running, talking,

Fallen angels work as they should,

Grey clouds smog, settle, stalking.

Mystery enshrouds, judgements cloud,

Fluttering footsteps fly on steep, shadowed steps,

Sneaking in-between high-rise buildings and business concepts.

These darkened alleys paint a gloomy picture,

With shattered panes filling crusting frames,

Where rust and moth destroy,

And thieves break in and steal,

Where time itself draw out,

Stretching beyond all doubt.

Who will ever understand,

Who will ever know,

But still, I go.

We touch.

Racing through streets,

Where building, towers, skyscapers meet.

Waving aside smoke from cigarettes.

Tears from streaming debts

As headlights flood the way,

Red and blue glows have their say,

We push on forward through the crowds,

Hand in mine, safe.

We glide through the mass, picking up pace.

Kicking aside waste.

We skip through the racing lights,

Pressing on, moving up,

Stirring round, sprinting down.

Where time spins, spinning, spun.

Hit and run.

Who will ever understand,

Who will ever know,

But still I go.

Do I follow her where she goes?

Do I care, do I dare?

Yes, for through foggy pollution, stars are found.

Laughter is heard through this city sound,

Down desolate streets a smile is seen.

Where have we not already been?

Up rugged tower tops diamonds glisten.

Even small children, sit and listen.

And headlights flood a busy street,

But no-one stops to talk and meet.

Surely! This is no time to be alone,

No time to be without love.

For as smog settles,

And sunlight bounces from rooftops.

We see more than we expected.

Your brown eyes so deep and pleasant,

Your hair glistens in moonlight crescent.

We hold each other tight.

Touch wood, pause for a moment’s sake,

And remember the city,

And all that it held,

Remember the towers and shrilly bells.

The empty faces, the shadowed street,

The yellow taxis and running feet.

And as we ran,

Your fingers touching mine.

Our heart strings knotted together.

We watch.

The city’s spirit bursting within.

As the lights from the centre spread through the grey,

The colours of summer, the hues of May.

And in that city scene,

The picture paintings,

A place where time itself draws out,

Stretching beyond all doubt.

For who will ever understand?

Who will ever know?

Will they still remain?

But what is sure,

That hand in hand,

And heart in heart,

Still we go.