Concrete Wasteland

I recently went on a trip to New York City, I found it to be a desolate, depressing city where it was clear the poor got poorer and the rich got richer. I could write this poem for hours about my experiences but I really don't have the time, nor do I thin

A jungle of sorts, thats the expression they want you to use.

Well I say a prison full of sadness and hate,

disgruntled the people move on everyday.

and you sit in your office smoking cigars and pray

that the money keeps flowing and you get your pay.

 

meanwhile on the street theres a beggar crying,

her child dead in her lap.

The man was just sitting alone speaking to no one

but whistling and whistling away.

 

And the loneliness at the bar and the pub,

they sat in quiet and humble silence.

Like a f*****g graveyard not a city by chance,

just an empty and barren corporate wasteland.

 

by wall street, there was glass buildings

and starbucks and corporate machines

pumping out "love" to the masses,

and they humbly kissed at their feet.

 

Disgusted, I moved on to try and clear my mind,

but everytime I looked I swear to god I'd sigh,

and the unhappiness all around.

Wanted nothing to do but move out,

the air was thick with the rich mans smog.

 

I spoke to a homeless

asked him what happened?

the look on his face still unnerves me,

he spat in the ground and wept all aloud

he said he couldn't face me.

So he stared at the ground with the look on his face,

lifted the needle and tried to erase

all the memories, of what became of his family.

 

I took a lift, in a cab that night

my friends they all were laughing and high,

but I sat there all focused on, the sad look on the drivers face

as he stared in the mirror trying to find peace

bringing paycheck, to his measly existence and try to

pay off for the food stamps and shelter

that they "provide".

 

in her one room apartment I stayed that night,

tried to forget what I'd seen right?

But she cried and she cried,

wishing that she died, and she smashed the pipe on the ground.

"why oh why must I put up with is? I've got nothing

nothing to exist with. Where am I going and what do I do?" 

I couldn't escape even if I flew

from the balcony, to the streets below,

the haunting air of the city so, I took a walk to wear the buildings

collapsed that fateful morning,

and the stands that they had

making money off of tradegy, and loss of life.

 

I swear to god, I won't get disgusted

when i see atrocity. 

I feel like a pawn for the rich corporate machine.

 

And the wheels just keep turning, and a dawn new arises

over that f*****g pathetic horizon. 

There'll never be peace, and there'll never be hope

as long as the beggar just talks to his smoke. 

 

I look down before disappearing, leaving the city behind

with one final sigh I closed the blind.

Author's Note

Nothing against America or anything of the sort, I did sort of have a good time, just, well, I suppose like anywhere times are tough.

Reviews

The city is best viewed at night.