This poem was very complex to write. It is also one of my most longest (but I hope the reader doesn’t get turned off by that because this is a pretty good piece that is worth the time). However this poem was built off of metaphors and some the many dark things that I see occurring in Manhattan, New York. This poem is quite twisted and it is a tough one to fully understand if people were to look at it with a narrow mind. I’ll leave it to the reader. Comments are open.

Single-File

Keep in mind
Wall Street
Burns
Tonight.

The Children
Of Burning Skyscrapers
Play
Ring around the Rosie
With The Almighty Hercules.

Hercules
Batters
His Wooden Sword
Up Against
His Plastic Shield
Pointing to a word
That Everyone knows
But seemed to have
Forgotten the meaning.

The Clean-Shaven Bum
Sits on the Sidewalk
Leaning up against
The Tweed Courthouse
With his head
Bowed down
With a gun
In his left hand
And the Scales
In his right.

For the Scales
Have mere
Pennies
One the left side
Yet stacks of
Hundreds
On the Right.

With a line
That stretches past
Fulton Street
For the Teenagers
Await their
Death Sentence.

Little Johnny
Is only two
He’s already
A trained
Killer.

Whilst someone
Stabbed
Benjamin Franklin
And Thomas Jefferson.

John Adams
Is screaming
At the top
Of his lungs
But no one
Can hear him
Because the
Clean-Shaven Bums
Have shooed him
Into a Locked Closet.

Sarah
Is sniggering
Back Stage
Trying to keep
The joke
Quiet.

The Bull
Lies dead
With flies
Passing over it.

The Mules
Ran away
In terror
Of the
Stampeding Elephants.

The Clean-Shaven Bums
Laugh at this
Eating Popcorn
With Green food coloring.

The Poor Man
Lies dead
In his living room.

Someone forgot
To turn off
His vacuum cleaner
as it sucks
The money
Out of his wallet.

The tormented Parents
Have their eyes
Shut tight
Shouting out:
There is No Place like Home! 
There is No Place like Home!

They know
That the Almighty Hercules
Gobbled up their Rug Rat
And shouted:
Who’s Next?!

The Teenage Mother
Is giving birth.

She screams
As it crowns.

The doctor
Has a Gun
To his head.

The Clean-Shaven Bum
Stares hungrily
At the arriving Infant
Licking his chops
Waiting for a
Long-Awaited Meal.

The Doctor
Hands the baby
To the Nurse
Who has an
ACS Badge
Hidden
Under her Scrubs.

The Nurse
Leaves the
Delivery Room
With the
Teenage mother
Shouting:
What is She Doing!
Where is She Taking my Baby!

The Clean-Shaven Bum
Washes his hands
Easily
Ridding them
Of the blood
Of the Teenagers
Laughing a
Satanic Laugh
Saying:
Don’t worry
I’ll get the next
Generation.

The Children
Of Burning Skyscrapers
Stand in Single-File.

Without
A Glint of Hope
In their Eyes.

The Crematorium
Is their Future.

What looks
Like Volcanic Ash
Is really the Ashes
Of the Innocently Damned.

The Writers
Hold up their Pens.

The Scientists
Hold up their Notes.

The Mathematicians
Stand Proud with their Equations.

The Photographers
Hold Photographs
With Tormented Faces.

Their photographs
Are a reminder
of what once was
Freedom.

The Clean-Shaven Bum
Shakes his head slowly
For he knows
The only way to kill them
Is through their reputation.

The Babies of Tomorrow
Watch a Yellow Sponge
And a Pink Starfish
Hypnotized by
The Clean-Shaven Bum
While Big Bird
And Barney
Lay in the corner
Forgotten.

Know this
Wall Street
Burned
Long ago.

The Children
Of Burning Skyscrapers
March Single-File
To their doom.

Marching Single-File
With the Clean-Shaven Bum
Pointing his gun
At them.

A Poet stands
Out from the Crowd
And shouts:
Whatever happened to Love?!

The Clean-Shaven Bum
Shoots him
In Between the Eyes.

He falls into Darkness
Into Death.

Everyone Knows
That theirs
Will be the same fate
In the near future.

0
Liked it
  • CHIPMUNK on Nov 23, 2011

    such great feelings

Leave a Comment
comments powered by Disqus

Hi there!

Hello! Welcome to Authspot, the spot for creative writing.
Read some stories and poems, and be sure to subscribe to our feed!

Find the Spot

Loading