The City Dreams – Vincent Edward Manda

The city’s dirty sounds:

Like the devil’s waste water

Streaming down the dead leaf

Carpeted streets

To drip into clogged gutters


And the sickly sounds

Of stray dogs, cats and foxes

Scrapping over and in dumpsters,


The alcohol fuelled cacophony

Of slurs and distended shouts

Hinting at fights never starting

Or crescendos of

Toothy, bloody brawls

Finally punctuated by fatigued police sirens


And the frustrated

Night’s ambitions, the rushes of

Stilettos in hand,

Girls on shoulders,

Fence and gate clambering

In the stifled closing time stampede

To the next event,

Twenty four hour booze shop,

Last bus or first train


Where the glaring contest of judgement

Between tired zombies of the day

And worn out vampires

Swearing to never drink again



These are the sounds

That reveal a city’s heart,

These are the sounds

That lull a city to eternal sleep,


These are the sounds

That ask it to join the ranks

Of cities that lived before it;

Old cities now slumbering in

Death’s dream kingdom

Forever awaiting one last sunrise

In that buried valley of forgotten stars

Where none claim

To have seen

The city’s surprising departure.


These are the sounds

That make my heart beat and weep;

The sounds of my dreaming city.


his name rhymes with ‘mince’. He’s rarely without a notebook and can usually be found next to the closest bottle of red wine. Previously a writer for The Roehampton Lane Journal.

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