Modernity

There for the grace of God go I

                                     Modernity.

 

 

Troubled weary pathways run silent behind the neon-lit broadways.

Here scurrying with purpose the rodent seeks wasteful piles.

Nearby a troubled inebriated sack, lies racked in open sway,

while the sweet-smelling girl sips wine, coquettishly with a smile.

 

The wary sack gulps down the fiery-brew, another day lost in hell.

The girl, bright, and aloof glides out of the steel-latticed bar,

head high, lips pouting, she hails a cab, red tips upon the handle.

The sack moans and dribbles as he sees the leggy-goddess broach the car.

 

Sack knows this peach he could have plucked, in days of misspent youth.

The cause now racks him, but one more sip will remove the pain.

Memories are taking his very essence- his will to stand aloof.

Girl gives a quick glance at sack, happy in her present reign.

 

From shop-door to darkened ally, sack lurches lungs filling,

sounds of city wails and disappointments fill his final day.

Soiled and wet, he raises the bottle for the last drunken fling,

whilst close to death he hears giggling from a different door-way.