Monday, November 28, 2011

The City's not my Home

The city's not my home.
Not the heavy thundering traffic
that crawl from day to night
from road to road
blocking street to street
and zooming highways and byways.
Not the smog and haze and cough mixture
of frustration and aggravation and indecision.
Not the unscheduled transports
that grind my hours into days
to get something done
while getting nothing done.
The runaround and the merry-go-round
and the screw around of that awful sound.
The city's not my home
where trees are uprooted to make way for cars,
to widen roads and to dig more tunnels.
Nature is obliterated, annihilated and eradicated.
For houses, for mansions, for condos
for those who pay with lies and deceit.
The city's not my home,
that's why I've gone back to the town
where trees are abundant,
wildlife is plentiful,
air is invigorating,
and humans are few.
But how long will my home last
before someone bludgeons
it with the grief of the city,
the agony of triviality,
and the vile smell of pride?


Matthew said...

I really like this poem.
I relate to the feelings about city life and the wondering about how much longer natural areas will continue to exist.
Thanks for sharing.

Julya said...

You are most welcome