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Mark Toney Oct 2019
Beautiful downtown Atlanta
Sunny, blue, cloudless sky
Tall, wide, massive buildings
Window glass glistening in the sun
Beautiful, well-dressed people
Gainfully employed people
Taking care of business people
Running essential errands
Contributing to the community
Pursuing positive, purposeful lives.

I take in the sights, sounds, smells
Sounds of people walking, talking
Engines revving and car horns
Smells of restaurants and fast food vendors
Engine exhaust and overheated brakes
The feel of the sidewalk
Under my expensive dress shoes
The heat of the sun on my face and neck
The exciting hustle and bustle
Of a thriving metropolis.

A faint “Please, sir. . .” reaches my ears
And a homeless man appears
*****, disheveled, hirsute
“Please, sir. Could you. . .”
His weak speech trails off
As I divert my eyes, quicken my pace
Ignoring his petty pleas
As he disappears in my wake
Bothersome soul, good riddance
Why doesn’t the city do something?

Days later the encounter haunts me
I was so proud of the way I handled myself
How easy it was to dismiss a soul in need
Months later the encounter haunts me
Instead of the clever human
I had become cruel, inhuman
Unfeeling, unkind, uncaring
Years later the encounter still haunts me
Never will it ever happen again
Never. . . ever.
5/8/2018 - Poetry form: Free Verse - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2018
Sarah Mann Aug 2018
There's a storm coming.
Within hours, its arrival will go unannounced
But the few who are destined for the change
Can feel it brewing just under the surface
Between the quiet conversations
A constant hum, a reminder of the forgotten
Continues to pulse through the veins
Silence, floating above the metropolis
Ready to blanket the movement in a suffocating still
The forces of the unknown act swiftly, careful in its oblivion
Truth be told, there is some quality to having something to hold on to.
Something to tether you back to reality,
It gives you assurance that this life is more than just a simulation
Hope of the possibility to slowly pass through the barren wastelands of this
Technological underdevelopment.
The world has seemingly lost its value
Let the storm wipe out what is left of this society.
The few who were meant to be will remain.
I'm ready for the shift for nothing to be the same.
August 08, 2018. 12:08AM
Brandon Conway Jul 2018
A city is nothing but a menagerie
caging different shades of insanity
dusty streets, concrete tombs, lingerie
costumes shooting up profanity

Here I stand
no shade of dignity
*** of cash in hand
shaded with apathy

Things I do with these creatures
in the concealing night
a spoon and a woman, double feature
finished and feeling contrite

Cross the bridge to leave the zoo
back to my normal life
conscience I must subdue
while I lay down next to my wife

I am sorry
I just miss the thrill
I am sorry
I just miss the feel
I am sorry
I just miss the comforts of the landfill
and the parroting comatose safaris
Metropolitans **** sensitivity
Cold concrete we stomp with our feet
Glare a path straight above you
Disregard the eyes that surround you
Keep moving and pushing through the pain
We're so hardened we don't even feel the wetness of the rain
We can't AFFORD to feel
There's no time to even feel real
An emotionless society
We drown our sorrows away
**** sobriety
Numb us whole
Our hearts hollow and dark,
just like a hole
Stanley Wilkin Feb 2017
A rude dawn over the city
Where Pepys once fought with his beautiful wife
After seducing whatever servant-girl chanced
To be around, where kings
First ruled from cold castles full of cockroaches,
Murderous cousins
Lurking through the baleful halls of history
Eyeing the empty throne. The stinking
River long shorn of fish sweeps elegantly before
The crimson petticoats of multiple ******
Promenading along Thames Street,
Winking at under-washed gallants.

Vauxhall gardens a pithy cavalcade of priests and doxies,
Of flower girls, flaxen haired girls selling fruit,
Anxious to reach home before the ****** hour of early
Evening when beaus gather in alley ways establishing
A testosterone gauntlet in the dust-spawned gloom.

The road to Tyburn is littered with lost hopes!
On hanging day bodies swung like debutantes dancing
To jazz tunes-
Aristocrats quartered with precision squealed like common folk,
Bleeding as much. The city watched all this
And didn’t murmur-never complained-
Smiled, as only a city can smile, at gin-drunk matrons, pie eating aldermen
And the ****** activity in street shadows by relieved young women on
VE day 1945.
SøułSurvivør Jun 2015

dead upon dead
to the left and the right
no fire to warm us
no more spark
no more light
the even' has come
the desert dry night
the only thing living
is the burgeoning kite

the only ruler
is a king with no crown
the lowly court jester
wears a red mask'd frown
some courtiers have starv'd
some courtiers have drowned
but as for the people
there's no one around

pile upon pile
of mouldering bones
some make up spires
some make up thrones
femurs the mortar
skulls are the stones
some lattice triangles
some steepled in cones
if you're in this city
you're truly alone

a skeleton rides
on a decaying horse
it has no conscience
it has no remorse
it needs no permission
but uses no force
where is this city?

why it's


(c) 6/3/2015
Are you there?
A veil has been pulled from my eyes
This place is where rainbows die

Promised land
Beautiful from afar and above
Your song pulled me in
Shipwrecked me on perfectly chiseled rock

This is where rainbows die

I see now
This place is a 100-story Zoo
Filled with sharks

Afraid that if they stand still
Just for a second
And smell the roses
They will surely die

Their sadness
Caged by concrete
Fences, locks, and labels

This is where rainbows die

Herds of one, chasing pots of gold
In all the wrong places

Can we ever hope to break the mold
Routines and purpose

A million voices crying out for connection
And no one willing to listen

Every brightly lit window a stage
Every man, woman, and child
A far-removed audience

As if color costs money
Surrounded by shades of grey
Ashen, set in rigor mortis

This is where rainbows die

So I say
Let us turn to the children

Let them
Rule our expensive city for a day

Let them
Capture a rainbow in their tiny hands
And paint the city with it

Let them show us that
Puddles are for jumping
And rain is for joyous dancing

Rise up once again
My fellow grown ups

And touch
The magic of the rainbow
AvengingPoet Sep 2014
I will travel blindly
But I was almost human

My mind is all that exists
No it doesn’t

The wind blows the plastic bag
As it wonders what its dreams might be worth

Leaning on the elevator wall
As I contemplate traveling with eyes

I could have traveled with eyes wide shut
Like all of them do

Eyes wide shut would be easier
But I instead force myself to question

I ponder and ponder
And answers only come every once and awhile

Culture is terrifying
And everything felt grey in that metropolis

Men, women, and children
Are running free in that metropolis

They travel with those eyes wide shut
As I simply question who has a rock?

I will travel blindly
But maybe that is all I can do?
Raphael Cheong Sep 2014
What has become of us
Amidst the hustle and bustle of city life
When did evolution condone us to regress into a state
Of uncalculated caucus
As we meander our way through the rapids of life

Is hardly a best-fit descriptor
For we are past the point of speed
We mill around like headless horses
Buzzing bees
Stinging roaches
Fallen leaves
Roaring lions
Try to lead
But fail
Like cottons fighting breeze

Is this all we are?
Is this what we were made for?
To quickly climb the climb
And await the graceless fall
Parachutes prepared for praise
But our pride prevents and prevails

Till the day I climb the ladder
Shall I not attempt to see
What the view at the top might be like
I fear it enthralls me
But then reality strikes like a maddening blaze
And suddenly I see
That I'm well on my way up the hill
As I swing from bridge to bridge

Is this the way to live?
Uncautious steps with kleptomaniac ease
As we take what we desire
From our capitalistic divider
Though we hate to be the same
Not at all do we differ
Are we not all blinded mice
With a tetra-human vice
Spiders apt at spinning lies
Banking life on Friday highs

All around me boring beasts
Lost to whims, to say the least
What I fear most is the day
I give in and join the race
Is the day I eat my heart out
Just to enjoy the highest gaze

Till then here trapped in the zoo
Enclosure encasing truth

Finding fault with every human till the day I conform too
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