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Sep 2018
The sound of urban sprawl, the music
of a soul’s vocally verbose interruption.
Caged thoughts, poetic justice, frequencies
of lethargy laced between headphones,
a reverberating ocular clarity.

Invasive odors spoil the mood, as pavement
digests this single protein of synthesized
might. Provoked to quit, but it’s the
intensity of the fight tantalizing, and
intriguing this winged warrior of
thought. To soar, no glide, no slide,
no, to enter his incoherent sound with
those of the other thousands striking
paved aspirations with each nonchalant
gate.

A boy on a bike,
A cops whining siren,
the noise of societal music,
a muffled shuffling, caged
for clarity the tinker thinks.
They hustle to their next destination.
Asking for no names,
and forgetting without hesitation.
A contagious infection;
due process, or natural selection?
A side of life soiled by repetition,
a constant selfish sense of volition.

Cancerous tentacles engulfing
every dendrite, synapses, memory,
idea, and thought; engaged in a
battle for recognition. A collective
competitive selective process, the
individual lost.  Where arbitrary
idealisms shape reality with another
drive by fatality. A place where calls
for leaders echo from alley ways, and
side street short cuts, are answered
with the pounding stampede of feet
trying to finish their own race.
Landscapes stained by the blood
of our advancement. Large sores
**** forth, every sign points to a purging
of us, but we continue to swear the
canvas unfurls further.

Our social institutions are accented with
the angst of our young. Taught to keep
the motion monotonous, take no time
to examine the subjects, while the lesson
forgets them. Modern man’s call for
mercy, but it’s advancement; of product,
proper conduct, that keeps the conduit
subservient. Just another burnt out fuse,
standing along with millions of others, the
working  control center of a self defeatist
organism I call urban sprawl.
Christopher Miller
Written by
Christopher Miller  42/M/Florida
(42/M/Florida)   
  195
   Salmabanu Hatim
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