Sitting on these rails
Retired in serious outdated attire
Many things have been heard
From voices upon my seats
~
One man sits by himself in the corner
His shoes tell the story of his life
A weathered face of deep lines
Caused by the presence of strife
The beggars who cross my floors
Many times in one day
Some do it to support their habit
Others have no other way
Blank stares into open spaces
In the hustle and bustle of the city
Impatient feet await
In a place where there is no pity
Grinding of my wheels
Shrill high pitches
Each curve emits sparks
Along the way
Strangers refusing to acknowledge eachother
Minds that have gone astray
Grinding of the mind
Shrill high pitches
Each curve brings with it sparks
Passing by cemeteries
Children playing in parks
Sirens abound to break the silence of sound
Howling dogs pierce the air
In rebellion they object to the invasion
Of the space within their lair
Vacillation within the vicissitude
The vortex created is paralytic
Woes go up quickly dissipating
Effectuality in the erosion acidic
~Moses~
© 2007 Moses Lestz - All Rights Reserved
1 comment:
Thanks for being my first 'commenter'! I love this poem because I recognise a lot of the scenes in it; travelling on the tube and the atmosphere of others on the train and the city around you when you emerge.
"Shrill high pitches
Each curve emits sparks
Along the way"
These were my favourite lines, I like the rhythm of the three as a whole and the imagery is beautiful.
Becki (Ignorant Poetic :P)
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