The City (Draft 4)

The City

I

Rising over the desert

it spreads across the mountains,

beaming softly across the

endless sprawl.

Reaching

water and sand,

waves crash into piers

as bodies dive

into natures embrace.

Towering figures framed

against the mountains,

pillars of ingenuity

reflecting rays cast

upon glass and steel.

Arteries begin

pumping platelets

from North to South,

East to West.

By the entrance to Poseidon’s realm

the beasts stand,

craning their sinuous

mechanized necks.

The relic of a sentinel

stands watch over a task

long since relinquished.

II

Alive and breathing,

life engages its patrons.

Peering through windows

the box chatters on as

beauties recline into

the folds of suburban decadence.

The world is a small expanse

best seen through tinted

eyes for second sight.

Palatial homes filled with

an emptiness

few could understand

or desire.

Manes beam deceit

of affluence worn

as proudly as

any regal regalia

from a vanquished monarchy.

The sound of blades and

arboreal amputations

cut and clamor,

the only disturbances

in such placid places.

Brown skin

tanned like leather,

stewards of a past

not as distant as some

would care to think.

___________________

They always watch them

when they encroach,

like a stain moving

and corrupting.

Always so ready,

ready to assume the worst.

Black and Whites

pull up screaming,

rubber gripping,

screeching to a halt.

Freudian compensation is drawn

and thrust out.

Slugs puncture hungry

vitals shocked by sudden

scarlet spurts.

The soft sound of

meat hitting asphalt.

A stain removed,

another spreads

like an amoeba

expanding.

The box will have more

to talk about.

III

We travel within

Arteries,

Veins

& Capillaries

cast in concrete.

Blood at a standstill

time to time

(more often than anyone would like).

It pumps from Arteries

to Veins

& Capillaries

for far reaching extremities.

At the center of it all

the heart never sleeps.

It beats endlessly.

It beats endlessly.

IV

Dreams

draw them in

like a wide eyed doe

drawn from the forest.

Short on money

(isn’t that always the case?),

fueled on endless ambition,

the heart draws them in

to streets lined

with names immortalized

into the stars themselves.

Lucky breaks and losing streaks

mar in almost equal measure.

It’ll be a great story

when the camera eyes

capture the ineffable essence

that’ll one day be lost

to hubris and indulgence.

On the hillside

beckons a name

as towering as

Colossus &

Ozymandias.

Cast into hearts,

molding ambition,

standing

hollow backed

and

beautiful.

V

In the shadow of the heart,

they wander the jungle

of it’s interior.

Souls wear

the endless toil

of life across

their faces.

There is nowhere

but here.

Dirty streets

clogged with cast off dreams.

The failed state of hope

occupies like an

invading army

waiting for the last body

to drop.

VI

Lights flicker on

across a patchwork

grid

one by one.

Lighting up

the darkness,

we can

never see

the stars above.

Blood flows

quickly through

concrete arteries.

The heart glowing

Blood flowing

Heart beating

On and on

and on…