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…
