Best Urbanlife Poems
I don't need very much to stay alive,
a little urban rain from time to time.
It's not luxurious, here in the ground,
but I'm content with it, this life of mine.
There's not a lot for me to view from here;
the iron forest always sees to that.
It must be nice to venture past those trees;
but trapped am I, within this concrete crack.
At times, my mistress seems unfair; although,
I'm quite accustomed to this static fate;
her morning eye and moistful firmament
ensure my needs are met, despite my state.
I'm well aware her sight does take a while
to reach my herbal arms from where I stand,
but being patient is a noble trait,
and one that's helped me flourish in this land.
Oh there's no need to worry over me;
I'm quite resilient for a city weed.
I know I can't get up and rule my life;
but as I said, there's not much that I need.
But what of you, my busy human friend?
How goes the life your maker granted you?
Forgive my prying, but I'm most concerned
with all the stress that you've been going through.
You have the freedom to decide your home,
the priv'lege to decide what you will eat,
the sov'reignty to change your day's routine,
and you were gifted with nomadic feet.
I cannot say decisions aggravate,
for they are favors I have never had.
But how can one despise such dowery?
I can't imagine how that'd be so bad.
So listen to this humble seedling's word:
before you think your life is but a curse,
take out the time to reassess your gifts;
your life could surely be a great deal worse.
I thank the Lord I really do,
For giving my soul a glow.
I want to live a saved life you see,
But I don’t want anyone to know.
I thank the Lord, I really, really do,
For calling me to do a work I’m not worthy of.
I’ve been given gifts and abilities to use,
But to benefit the world it would be easier than above.
I love to dress with the name brands and all,
From the finish back to the start.
But looking and living like I’m saved?
I’ll only at church and home live the part.
You see sometimes when I’m with my peers,
I don’t want to stand out so much.
So I seek not to edify whom I call my “Lord”,
And the acceptance more of my “click” than His touch
I’m a lover of music, I even play an instrument,
I love gospel music I really do.
But I’m sort of ashamed to be the real me,
So I sing the same songs that they do.
I have a call on my life I realize,
And to hear Your Word I must sit in.
But rather than sit and adhere to Your Word,
I’d rather choose to mingle and fit in.
My dad is a deacon, my mom an evangelist,
And I am even a Sunday school teacher.
But when I am out among those of my peers,
I choose not to show a definite distinct feature.
“Let your light so shine…” is what it reads,
“…before men…” is whom it is to.
“…that they may see your good works…”
And this means that WE MUST DO.
Can’t stand it anymore
So dirt broke
Can’t afford to build a life
Too ill to work
Too busy to work
Too many failures
No chance to succeed
Nothing going right
Why is life so God Damn hard?
I scream to God to help
He doesn’t say anything
He makes it worse for me
Nothing goes right
My little ray of hope
Goes like suicide
No ray of hope
Such a difficult life
I’m a young man with nothing to show for it
I can’t live like this
God doesn’t listen
I hate being skint
I can’t afford to make my dreams come true
I am trapped in the life of no speech
No chance to succeed
I don’t want your handouts
I want to make the money myself
So here I go
Spending more money than making
Nothing going right
I say to you Lord
Why have you made life so God damn hard?
Form:
Tiffany's rare creation is
an awesome three stone ring,
which a lucky girl proudly wears
strolling down 59th Street;
and why was she so humbled
when her fiance proposed?
He wasn't the handsome Prince Charming
offering her a castle with chests full of treasures,
only a simple life of pleasures: promising
faithful love; and he didn't drive a Macerati
and owened a splendid villa in sunny Italy...
besides true kisses, happiness was a guarantee!
And she rubs it with a gentle cleanser daily,
to make it dazzle even more than gems;
oh, how beautiful is the three stone ring!
I waved at them them down Madison Avenue towards evening:
they hugged and smiled in a royal coach pulled by four white horses
that neighed loudly when pedestrains invaded their privacy!
A true princess she was indeed just by feel, not reality;
and it didn't matter how ordinary her life would be...
perhaps she was happy with the man of her dreams,
showing a gentleness not seen in men hiding deceits!
Yesterday I met them again in Central Park...
as they tried to get closer to an adorable lark!
Panic Room
The game of the century
Is running amok
If mankind survives
It will just be by luck
The tree of knowledge
Our freedom of choice
Both a curse and a blessing
In the awareness of life
We have sold our hearts
To the culture commercial
Of unattainable adverts
Feeding the need and living on greed
As ego sucks on our insecurities
We charge on a head
Waving out bounteous flags
Of progress
Our cradle a dumping ground
Our home an ashtray
As we bury our conscience
In our own mausoleum of boredom
Hidden away in our panic room
Padded with money
Frantically seeking the very next meaning
Addicted to the thrill of purpose
And our own children
Have no other answer other than this
Or dogmatic confusions
Which offer them bliss
All constructed to deny the moment of death
And life goes forgotten
We live in a prison
Fed by our need and living on greed
Comfort and health
Are now the province of wealth
While the poor have to struggle
To maintain bone, blood and muscle
And until we see past our sea of possessions
Their life spans of economies made for
The wreckage and hollow shells
Of our own no more use for
We will remain mere “profit cells”
For corporate materials
Of industrial
Pharmaceuticals
Hiding away in the panic room
Padded with money
Frantically seeking the very next answer
To a society which has no more purpose
All constructed to deny the moment of death
While life goes on forgotten
We live in our own unsatisfied prison
Fed by our need and living on greed