Lost hunger street

in poetry •  last month

There's a street at the end of the night where everyone goes to eat and mill about; I used to know it well...

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The time is empty without that feeling

That takes you to meet

Anyone that’s sweet

On lost Hunger Street

The night is a place of one eye

And nemesis and lostness

And bleeding heart

And crowded dreams

Or anything else you could want

But it all meets on lost Hunger Street

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Rain comes down forever as

Paper bandits grease the slip of

Walking at the end of the week

It is come to this then

Wherever you have come from

To lost Hunger Street

Wet skin-heads slay the darkness

With aggro

Rain makes no distinction

And music plays from doorways

As lovers do too, hardly hidden

Not caring

On lost Hunger Street

guitar-142646_640.jpg

The wolf prowls the streets

Frightening everyone he meets

With his non-emotional greetings

And hidden vain desires
He ends up too

Hidden beneath his collar

Half drowned

In lost Hunger Street

For the unconquered heroes

Of the night

There at last

Hardly prepared or accepting

The beer laden failure

But glad to rest

In lost Hunger Street

No neon, just buzzing, and everything surreal

In fits and spurts

This street of crowded pub people

Between the last beer and home

Lost in some kind of purgatory

In lost Hunger Street

What’s left of the night ends here

Men pissing, women kissing

Painted women in gangs on corners

A few short moments left

A last place to fight

The desperate night

In lost Hunger Street.

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Drug dealers in the dark corner

From four bars to any melting point

Labyrinthine minds taking what’s pure

To the morgue

Girls walk long dark and deep

Drum beat people deep

Door knocks clandestine, taxies purring

Female fantasies, music from every entrance

Empty entrances to adventure

Ends in a car park

Old fashioned lights yellow the heat

Doors open unexpected

Shadows become friends

Others walk past voices high

From dark to light

Cars drift

Nights adrift in lost Hunger Street.

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By day

Blank warehouse stare from castle to car park

Front windows a thousand square black and dank

By night

Wandering shadows

Disembodied voices

Displaced visions

Created dreams escaping to the sky, and

Time doesn’t exist

Just shifts of forever scenes happening

Memories not taken

But left

To betray the next sighing shape

To make it on lost Hunger Street

Get caught here and

You may never leave

If you’re young here

You will be old somewhere else

If your heart falls here

A lifetime could be spent pulling it back

For lost Hunger Street

Like an amorphous succubae

Never lets you go

Until it has torn from your soul you.

Images from Pixabay

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Strangely, I like this Hunger Street...

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I used to and it looked just like the first photo, but these days it's full of lights and food places and upmarket, safe but boring...Thanks for commenting

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Yeah, things, people, places changed...

Wow. I think that may be the longest poem I've read on Steemit so far. I love the play on words, and imagery. Lost Hunger Street. Excellent concept, and very speculative. Awesome job.

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It's a real place I used to go to back in the 90s. All of what I write is from my experiences on this Earth. Thanks for commenting...

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Awesome sauce.

Cool images and tone. Lots of thought-provoking ideas.

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must be the blarney stone

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Thank you very much for this