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| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 17:57:36 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 129857
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => A Night in New York
[time] => 2006-12-27 17:29:02
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => 1:43 A.M. and the streets are Already wet. It's Always so lonely at this time On the streets of New York. Where the buildings stand like Tombstones, Spitting out bodies at the strike of dawn And swallowing them back at evening's dusk. You can even hear the hollow souls Laughing like hyenas. Thier ice cold screeches pinches your Spine and snaps at your conscience. The damp collage of stained streets That seem to sink in to one another. Even you, yourself begin to sink. Sinking into the sewers. When all the barbie dolls and robots Have turned themselves off And Broadway's lights have started to dim. We see people in the grey darkness, Real people. All along the blocks lighted with Miniscule fires in the tiny tin cans, Dirty faces, real faces. Tortured and twisted underneath the yellow glow. Standing on the iron concrete. Just waiting, waiting for the light, Waiting for the barbie dolls To remind them That they are indeed real. Here in the street, Its hard to tell from screams and laughter, When the water runs through the oily Pavement, washing away the waste of the day, And with it your dreams... and my dreams too. As if to clean the city from all its Dirty thoughts. But we both know, you and I, That its always there. In the corners, in the shadows and In the back of your eyes. Its hard to imagine that 30 million people Will never really see, Whats really underneath That big red mask..... [comments] => 5 [counter] => 284 [topic] => 73 [informant] => themonk [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 20 [ratings] => 4 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => abstract )
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