Why is that we so often muddy the city’s reputation?
Unrightfully comparing it to the picturesque country
“Back to the basics, back to nature.”
Oh, boring, bothersome, battering repetition!
City dwellers, you accursed traitors!
Rural bumpkins, ah, ignorant negotiators!
I jest, of course, a hyperbole, you see-
A little humor, that’s all that is, between you and me.
But all things considering,
Now that we are merely dithering,
On and on about the meaningless
And feeling that awkward squeamishness
About the absolute, true, superior
Between city and the country
Or better yet
The discussion of who owns this domain
Is it the familiar conqueror known as Man?
Or is it Mother Nature who wins this contest on demand?
Today, the youngsters, the enlightened, they like to call themselves
Would say that Nature is the true state of the this world-
The original, the beginning,
The end, the everlasting.
They are not wrong.
I dare not argue with that.
It is fact.
But at the same time, what is the
State of the world?
Nature encompasses all,
It encompasses the human race.
It encompasses the entirety of space.
But not so much, the entirety of time.
Crowded all things man-made into a kingdom we call “City”
Crammed all our homes into buildings, apartments so itty-bitty
And standing from so very, very, VERY high up
Perhaps past the clouds and into space
You will see
A living thing
Encroaching over the surface of this planet
Like a parasitic rash that won’t go away
Correction: a beautiful parasitic rash that won’t go away.
roads, train tracks, sidewalks and ship routes-
The laughter, the sighs, the crying, the screaming, the chatter, the hustle and the bustle-
The city bleeds.
The city speaks.
The city breathes.
But what about tomorrow?
The tomorrow where humanity is wiped out?
A meteor, a disease, hell, even wars?
Whether it’s by divine wrath
Or self destructive cancer eating Man from within.
Without man, the city dies.
And all that’s left,
As a last laugh,
For perhaps the next thousand or so years,
(A blink of an eye to Mother Nature really)
Are the sentinels.
Ghostly, hollowed out sentinels
Made of steel, concrete, glass and plastic
Of the City’s last breathing remnants.
Written: 10th April, 2018
Edited: 7th February, 2019
Prompt: Collaboration- write about the city while collaborator writes about nature
7th February, 2019
This is an oldie but I thought I’d upload it here anyways. This was a collaboration with a friend where I had to write about the city and my friend had to write about nature. I’m a big fan of rambling nonsensical poetry so I applied that here but I also applied shape to the poem- if you look closer, the poem forms the shape of a pulse line from a heart monitor! That’s all I have to say about this poem. Might write more in the coming days but I’m also gathering poems to publish in literary journals sooo I won’t be able to post all that I write here.
Until next time,
The Writing Borb