Best Urbandark Poems
If I Were a Plastic Bag…
I would help shoppers carry their stuff.
Anything: groceries, toys or powder puffs.
I could help thrice, because I am tough.
I like to; it is fun to see their stuff!
Sometimes I wait for weeks in the dark, scrunched.
Kept there unused for months crowded and hunched…
I am not alone; we plastic bags are bunched.
Waiting in the dark while the humans munch.
I dream that one-day, soon I will fly up high.
I will escape on the day that the wind blows by.
A breath of fresh air will lift me into the sky.
I will see the city's grandeur; then, I shall sigh.
It seems like forever the days go slow.
Up in a treetop it would not be so.
I could just hang around beneath sun's glow.
Watching travelers drive about on streets below.
Freedom's dream, flying high, has not come to fruition.
The life I lead in cabinets has become a mission.
Somehow, now, based upon the economic condition.
I just lay back in the dark and wait in submission.
© Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen
December 18, 2009
In this one big city
Where the lights are always on,
The people lower their heads
With the burden which they were born.
The lights, they always sparkle
With a promise it never keeps,
Tormenting the souls around them
Preventing them from sleep.
In this one great city
Where the traffic doesn't cease,
And tired souls trudge endlessly
Through dark and empty streets.
Dark and empty streets
That lead you down to hell,
A demise of soul and sentiment
Discarding an empty shell.
In this one dark city
Where clouds gather in wait,
To spill their murky load
On those awaiting their fate.
Some struggle through
And make of it what they can,
Others are easily defeated
With no survival plan.
In this one decietful city
Nothing is as it seems,
Where fantasy is reality;
Consciousness is dreams.
There is no distinction;
It all merges into one.
And no one would give a damn
If the moon became the sun.
In one impulsive city
Where everyone gets high;
A relief from the monotony,
Or the fact we're going to die.
Obliteration and disaster
Is what we have created,
Money, greed and religion
Somehow lead to hatred.
This is London city
So beware to those that come,
Bewitched by all the prospects
When really there are none.