Tenement Lot
A spot
On the urban blight
Where once stood
A faded five
Story hovel
For the poorest of
the poor
Fallen in
final decay
Victim of time
Neglect, hopeless
poverty
Political impotence
No flowers,
No ripe tomatoes
Not even marajuana
Just the weeds
Of poverty
Smashed, broken
glass of dreams
Dead in their infancy
When reality set in
No cucumbers, no lilies,
A few times
An unplanted corpse
Of this weeks murder
An unholy offering
To the Devil,
Janitor, custodian,
And owner of
this concentrated
bastion of hell
No meadow views,
No gardens of wonder,
No horses running free
No freshly painted red barns
No fluffy clouds
No visions of wonder
No hope on the horizon
No chance to escape
Doomed to poverty
Doomed to crime
Doomed to a life
Wandering without point
Sure, there are
Places of wonder
Places of beauty.
But not here.
Not anywhere near here
And these people
Have no hope
Of laying on
a grassy meadow.
There is no Glen
of wonder here
There are no castles
on the East River.
This is the realm of despair.
Where drug laced
Zombies walk the streets
Infected hookers
guard their turf.
Where no hope
does dwell
in what is
Naught but hell.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
