Poetry is what surrounds you, the air you breath, the the golden sunset you see, the chirping birds you hear, yet the wind that blows off your clothes such that we see your naked mind.
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Monday, September 5, 2011
PUBLIC DUMPSITE
Towering high, conspicuously mighty
Obnoxious, murky, stinking-filthy
Midst the sophistication
That is paved manicured city streets
A crystal image of the populace's rot
Political vultures, social flies, economic crows
Hungrily hover in the misty air above it.
.
The stench is overwhelming
But alas! its the product of the souls
That surround it
They sneer at it disgustingly
Turn away blocking their insensitive noses
Soon to forget the mess
Once behind their shanties' shaky paper doors.
Once in a while, the masses
Ashamed of their reflection in its majesty;
Tribal politics, economic segregation, moral degradation
Conspire to clean it
Later to fill it up again with sewage
Product of their unhealthy hand-out diets.
Like a multi-tentacled monster
The stench and filth grows
In weight, height and form
From a monolithic expensive social fabric
To a stratified pyramid of thieves
From the king's castle to the pauper's dungeon
Like third-world bush fire.
Soon the ogre will devour all
Less the masses conspire and execute its fall,
I'm talking about this city hole.....oh no no...august hall!
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wow! I love it!Hmm...
ReplyDeleteA crystal clear close-up shot...
Of August Hall's filth and rot..
Where game of greed is a daily plot...
Hmmmm...
you can clearly see it brother
ReplyDelete