Dark Passage - A Moonlit Journey Through Urban Decay


Urban Decay
Slowly descending
The spiral staircase
Into urban decay
On this particular night long trip -
Preceded by flashlight
And followed with the Complete moon,
Whose eyes hold all in
His opinion as the road light
Flickers in and outside in crimson colors. 

Character of the Past
The soul of yesteryear 
Lives in

The hoot of this hoary owl,
That echoes sadly evermore

Who nowadays uncounted
Have noticed the endless journeys of guys 
Come to and finish beneath them -
This Last respite
Marked by dates and names 

Ghost Hunting

Of each old place -


Or the soul that lingers

These historical places carry
The immortal remnants
Of old culture.

Assessing them to
Examine their secrets
Such as an urban archaeologist -
Chasing down the replies 
To urban legends
And ghost tales -
Just to know
Everything came before.

Abandoned Factory
After filled with life,
This older construction;
With memories locked out 


Litter the lonely bunch. 

Once active and crucial 

Now immortal in its skeletal framework -

Abandoned factory
Speaks secrets of extended misused tools,

And secured away rooms -
Modern ruins and electrical tombs
Long left behind
On this hidden street.

Stomping Ground

Of urban truth,
Haunting the spirits
With lamps and inquisitive minds.

Marble City
I understand when you're born and died,
However, I Wish to see past the moss
In your gravestone.
Who were you in existence?

Old Church

I. Cathedral.
I Return in time since I brush webs of dust
In the stained glass ,
Wondering what secrets that this 
Old church buried using its own dead.

II.  Esoteric.

This older window nonetheless reflects light
Such as the sermons once held
From the sacred hall.

The ravens on the roofing 
Stand shield like gargoyles -
These gloomy feathered ghouls
Perch atop the proud passages
They pretend to own,
And sing a gloomy a cappella

I abandon as the morning light

Along with the moon bids farewell
To the starry skies,
Wondering if warning signals 

To some future era.

Into the Light
Walking in the crack of dawn 

Through new cut grass
And beside foggy areas,
My sneakers adorned with dew -


And pause to believe:
This basic heavens
Greatern

Atalaya
Dark watch tower
Overlooking the lonely shore 
Constructed without routine -
Summer home sculpted
From mortar and brick,
Its plans and solely sketched
In the fantasies of a poet and genius.

Ordered madness - artistic anarchy;
The sculpture room Appears to
Summon the soul 

Like the ghost
Of the woman sculptor

Merely to complete her final work.
Manifest Destiny
How crazy was that the west?
How accurate rang gold,
That guys sought and murdered 
For it?

How powerful the steed,
And just how much mightier
The guy who rode it
And held the legislation on his hip?
Just how long the streets of these days?
How heavy the secrets?
Can the spirits of

Speak to us from the old saloon? 

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