1.

Spires our-soar the sky.
Men and women are machines.
The hallowed trees shrink
from encroaching wonders.
Now man has been made sickly.

2.

Anxious are the days
for leisure and solemn rite.
I, too, want holiness
to stifle unfettered greed
and restore life's dignity.

3.

To some it's finished:
the idea of trust, betrayed.
Money out-bids honor.
Truth is a red-ticket item.
Some vines bear shriveled fruit.

4.

Skies melt at sundown.
Cats wet their whiskers in gutters.
I light another cigarette.
Hope burns like a dim candle,
flickering in the tempest.