The lights are much brighter there
You can forget all your troubles,
forget all your cares and go
Downtown, things'll be great when you're
Downtown, no finer place for sure,
Downtown, everything's waiting for you...


Ode to my Downtown

I thought I saw the moon but it was just an empty penthouse suite, an eye wedged into the form of a silent sentinel, cloaked in the dark.
An out of service train slides by, a slain serpent dragged through the streets to be ridiculed.
Gutted matchbooks lay ravaged, sprawled in stagnant disarray, having lit their last cigarettes.
Police siren rips night's skin, painting it's path in red and blue as it screams down the street and around the corner.
Empty store fronts stare out with Moloch's thousand blind windows into dying streets where the people walk on, hollow chambers of shuffling feet and dead eyes.
Men in squalid clothes shove arms into overflowing garbage cans
pull out ten cent treasures to pay for their next iniquitous fix.

"I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by
madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn."



Poetry by Sparks
Read 824 times
Written on 2010-10-04 at 18:14

Tags Ginsberg  Downtown  Depressing 

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text



A better application for urban renewal couldn't be written.

A vivid portrait, the images are spot on. The form of the poem does honor to a.g. and the "angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection . . . "

jim

. . . not to mention p.c.
2010-10-04