John Jones | + Follow Poet |
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City Lights

Underneath the stars, 
in countless bars,
as cars traverse 
the mean streets of the city,
the broth of humanity congregate 
and,late into the night, 
cogitate on the state
of things fiscal 
and whether to risk all
on the throw of a dice 
or the turn of a card
for life can be hard 
when faced with the prospect
of losing it all 
on the run of a ball 
or the speed of a horse 
or, worse of course, 
when you are so far down 
that the world around 
has lost its charm
and prostitution or self harm 
appear to be a
better proposition, 
when there are no stars left to wish on, 
and the street is your home, 
the place where you roam 
from handout to trick, 
thinking quick on your feet 
getting more 'street' 
but losing your soul
and forgetting your goal 
of making it big in this city
and you drown in self pity 
and OD on horse as the course
of your life takes a turn for the worse 
and you curse 
and splutter 
as you lie in the gutter 
outside one of those bars
looking up at the stars.

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