Post apocalyptic balcony number 7

Wrapped in enigma,
They follow
The Siamese Psychopaths

They jump rusted
car skeletons.
Together
Choreographed
Hunting

Chasing
the white line
highway

Running towards
Lion rock tunnel
Pumped
with Agro4
The Chemist's new
ultra violent drug.

The world was small
focused to tarmac
fight and death.

It's all about blades
sharpened for blood
death weapons
tools of war

Running towards
the dark arch of the tunnel
the battle ground
mid way under a mountain

A mountain
That separates two.

Post apocalyptic balcony number 6

Rain drops
fall through
orange light

The ink which
circles wanted adds
runs

Inked tears
which could be
Brushed into a swan
and fly away

Blocked drains
Bubble
Like a shit souffle

Sheltering under a ledge
With a neon noodle sign
Flickering blue
like a fly trap

Watching the rain
falling
stippling
and puddling.

Just waiting for someone to come.

Post apocalyptic balcony number 5

She hoped,
Her children,
Had Heard her voice.
Tonight, of all nights -her birthday.

At the top
Of Tai Mo Shan
Mary, in her enclave
Speaking free.

The rusting
Radio transmitter
Gaffa taped to
An old observatory golf ball.

Temperature 34
humidity 78
typhoon level 3
impending storm

She hoped
They'd listen.
But, so many
had not.

So many had died
stabbed
shot
dead now.

The young bunch
the lost bunch
the violent bunch
the dreams that drained into soil.

She hope the beats
the liquid base
had changed
a few thoughts.

In the post disaster world
Not many chances
rise
Not many dreams evolve.

Maybe today would be new.

Post apocalyptic balcony number 4

Down at The Lazy Orchid
Base flowed like mercury.
Emma sat, eyes of fire
Staring back from
Vodka shot meniscus.

The sparse drum beat
Indicates an architecture
To the liquidity
Her finger's
Tapped pensive

Inside The Lazy Orchid
Bare concrete
Punctuated with rusting re bar
Sound systems giving
Harsh lines living movement.

Bar man Dave
Water's Bar plant Marge
Laconic as always
No judgment
No questions

The base tightens
Emma's slices a slither of lemon
With a clever
And twists the three drops
Into the vodka

The rest of them
The Shatin Girls
Walk in.
Like a wake behind
Tinky and Winky.

Post apocalyptic balcony number 3

Wrinkled faces, caught by time
Push hawker carts
Slow shouting procession
The smell of noodles
Chicken stock, vinegar and soy.
Steam locomotion
Keep off the floor
The smell of rotting garbage
Sewage and sweat
Olds lie homeless
Stepped over by youth.

Thronging masses
Packed tight like legends
Tell of salmon.

Street level, forgotten level, people level
Alive level
Way below enclosed, excluded
Restaurant arcades.
Up above
From surgery come fresh guffaws
Fake as display noodles
Bi weekly sex changes
Make for interesting affairs.
This one guy
Could fuck his own arse
Grafted a pussy
Over his shitter
Cause he liked his dick to smell
In the gym locker room.

Wealth determines height above
Piss stained trousers
Sex menus
And bathtub narcotics.

Dr Jim, pimp and pusher
Looks down and out over his users
Plexiglass separation
Gold watch, two links to big
Falls visually onto hand
Coal black suit
Too crisp to be cheap
Data streamed straight
To his optic nerve
New tech implants
Can't even be found
At Sam Shui Po.

His eyes catch a kid,
New on Nathan Road.
Biking through crowd
Eager.
Dr Jim doesn't know
It's KidCarl's first roll
For the Mong Kok Boys tonight

Post apocalyptic balcony number 2

The evening heat;
making the air feel like cream cheese

Turning a knob through static
Genghis searches for Mary
The husky voice of an angel.
Beamed down from the top of HK

“Down to the people on the street
Coming for you
Your evening voice
Your evening song bird.
We've got beats.
We've got base.
We've got word.
Kept that dial locked children.
Peace out Genghis;
Roll away,
Mong Kok Boys.
Keep it real,
Take it easy:
Take a step back,
Sha Tin Girls
No need for blood
Tinky & Winky
Please not tonight”

Gentle rhythm lifts over
Husky voice
Base blossom speaker
Snare click syncopation
Vocals come and go like
voices imagined in the night.

Tinky & Winky
Siamese psychopaths
Joined at the hip
Smiling silent
drawing each others
knife edge
black battle eye liner.

Post apocalyptic balcony number 1

The Dusk Light
Was Unsettling
Electric Pink.

Barry Lau Sat
Contented
In his genius
In his rocking chair

Not that genius
was appreciated today
but it's cozy
warm memeories comforted

54 stories up
Penthouse Suite
Deserted below
Ram-shackled vegetable garden above

Squash tendrils creeping
like a crown
down to an earth
Flooded for years

A typhoons first breath
Hanging like
a stuttered whisper
Warning

Gently rocking
out the days
until the storm
passed.