Big City Rat Race

On dirty, drab decaying streets where no one knows a soul
Gritty, grotty, grimy rats are racing to their goals
Rushing, pushing, underground- while sunlight shines elsewhere
Stairwells stacked, trains are packed newspapers hide the stares
Watch them go- to and fro, deadlines: clocking on
They do not know, within their flow, humanities gone wrong
No time to think- all actions rhyme; this nightmare’s not a dream
Hope for happy future times that weekends sometimes yield
Powdered nose- alive with coke, pills and thrills that numb
Synthetic bliss to reminisce those times they had some fun
Some might cry or hope to die to end the endless stress
Dehumanised, demoralised no time to second guess
No questions asked- just endless tasks- drowned out from 9 to 5
Inhuman masks are built to last- how can this be ‘alive’?

Reviews

[Nautili]

This poem reminds me of Solomon's words, "All is vanity." Kind of depressing, but very good imagery-the rat race running around in their wheels and calling it living. I don't know the answer to that, I have felt like I was spinning in circles myself, but I think it is about perspective-not being desensitized to the everyday, normal stuff that happens that makes life worth the mundane drudgery-a good joke, a child's smile, a job well done.But we lose perspective, and life loses meaning and purpose. I lose sight as well and wonder all kinds of "what's the meaning of life" kind of questions. I think writers are more prone to those kind of thoughts,inner reflection and metaphysical reasonings.
Really great poem-synthetic bliss-love that term. Happy pills, happy hour, happy hang-over. And life still stares you in the face when you open your bleary eyes.

[Dianah]

Well written. Great subtle rhyming in this piece. Thye can keep the rat race, I prefer to walk .

[The Flawed]

What can I say? This is so good and so true that its chilling.

[Kelz]

ooooooo, fabulous. The flow was perfection and your words sadly reflect so truly what our world has come to :)