Untitled
I walk the street.
The street of The American Nightmare.
The moon is gone, no stars shine tonight.
The smog and ash are too thick.
The homeless gather to stay warm in their alleys.
Among them lie broken bottles, broken boxes's,
broken boards, broken dreams, broken lives.
The sidewalk is cold cracked concrete.
The gutters are filled with filth and the tears of many.
The streetlights are dim and tilt and sway,
like the minds of politicians.
The houses hold within them the hearts of the,
hopeless and the helpless.
The Market sells the Grand Illusion of the,
Capitalist.
The park is empty and forgotten,
like the wallet of the common American.
Yet, still I walk.
I am not afraid!
[May 1, 2013 S. Staples St. - This poem turned the tide of my life for the better]
Copyright © Angel Garcia | Year Posted 2016
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