Post by An Observation on Nov 4, 2003 0:13:38 GMT -5
Not so much a poem as a well..I don't know what to call it. So here goes.
An observation
Meandering feet scuff their way over the gum stained, butt ridden antiquities of this dirty city. Ascending smoke rises above the buildings flirting with the monoxide-tainted breeze. A million faces pass me, one daring to meet my gaze; his suspicious eyes catch mine, a fleeting gaze before promptly returning to the ground in apprehended embarrassment.
Slowly the people pass me by, going blindly to their mundane jobs and innocent lives, never truly aware of what goes on around them…the two men over there negotiating the drug deal. The man over there watching them do it, his shoes polished brightly and the faint bulge of a gun at his side were an undercover cop would keep his piece.
The couple arguing as they walk down the street and their child walks behind them, staring at the ground and kicking a rock along. And over there a young kid railing his skateboard down the steps, his face covered in filth and an unlit, sweat stained cigarette hanging out of his mouth.
The sound of harleys come from the side of me… I turn slightly and see a group of five men all wearing vests with a gold and black patch on the back, a truck behind them supports a bumper sticker that says, “Support your local SoS”
I shake my head sadly knowing that they go to some deal or another, possibly to punish a member of the club, possibly delivering a load of guns or drugs to a local connection. It doesn’t matter though, that woman with the cell phone just walked across the intersection never even knowing those men would as soon run her over as let her pass.
For a moment the city stands still as I loose myself in thought…then the sounds of the motorcycles blazing away down the street draws me back and I look around, the man that was arguing with his wife is walking away while she too goes away leaving the child to choose which parent to follow, the two men that were negotiating walk into an alley and the man with the shiny shoes, touches his hat and follows. The skater picking himself off the ground to complete the trick he is attempting, I could walk over there and tell him how, but it would not be appreciated. Meanwhile oblivious to it all people with cell phones or pastries pass by never realizing all that just happened around them.
I envy the story these buildings tell, these tall proud buildings at the mercy of naught but the elements and arrogant contractors wishing to change their old glory. The sidewalks that collect our footprints, a keepsake of our travels here. These places, THIS is what we all have in common, these sights, they unite us, though few see it.
The man down the street stares at an old abandoned building were once music came from on the weekends, he seems to hear the songs of his childhood that have haunted it since opening night. A man looks at a bar and he seems to pause, leaning against the old theatre the other man is staring at, he looses himself in memories of his own, a small smile touching his face before walking in.
This is our city, we walk in the shadows of those whom came before us. These buildings built so long ago recording history in their mortar and brick as it happens. The entire city connected on a level, which many will never see, the underlying things that connect and break our lives. The drug deals, the men whom are naught but mafia on motorcycles, the unsung heroes whom deal with these men and risk their lives to bring down entire organizations. The officers who risk their lives walking into alleys after drug dealers and operatives. This city provides for us, our curiosities, bows to our whims and invokes beer dampened ecstasy hazed by memories of friends, fights, laughs, kisses, and nights that brought me closer to the people whom matter most. To some it’s a place to live, to me it’s a place that taught me about life and the confusion that so often walk hand in hand with it. We are the words that write its story, and our story is the book it reads…<br>
M. Seth Aspen
An observation
Meandering feet scuff their way over the gum stained, butt ridden antiquities of this dirty city. Ascending smoke rises above the buildings flirting with the monoxide-tainted breeze. A million faces pass me, one daring to meet my gaze; his suspicious eyes catch mine, a fleeting gaze before promptly returning to the ground in apprehended embarrassment.
Slowly the people pass me by, going blindly to their mundane jobs and innocent lives, never truly aware of what goes on around them…the two men over there negotiating the drug deal. The man over there watching them do it, his shoes polished brightly and the faint bulge of a gun at his side were an undercover cop would keep his piece.
The couple arguing as they walk down the street and their child walks behind them, staring at the ground and kicking a rock along. And over there a young kid railing his skateboard down the steps, his face covered in filth and an unlit, sweat stained cigarette hanging out of his mouth.
The sound of harleys come from the side of me… I turn slightly and see a group of five men all wearing vests with a gold and black patch on the back, a truck behind them supports a bumper sticker that says, “Support your local SoS”
I shake my head sadly knowing that they go to some deal or another, possibly to punish a member of the club, possibly delivering a load of guns or drugs to a local connection. It doesn’t matter though, that woman with the cell phone just walked across the intersection never even knowing those men would as soon run her over as let her pass.
For a moment the city stands still as I loose myself in thought…then the sounds of the motorcycles blazing away down the street draws me back and I look around, the man that was arguing with his wife is walking away while she too goes away leaving the child to choose which parent to follow, the two men that were negotiating walk into an alley and the man with the shiny shoes, touches his hat and follows. The skater picking himself off the ground to complete the trick he is attempting, I could walk over there and tell him how, but it would not be appreciated. Meanwhile oblivious to it all people with cell phones or pastries pass by never realizing all that just happened around them.
I envy the story these buildings tell, these tall proud buildings at the mercy of naught but the elements and arrogant contractors wishing to change their old glory. The sidewalks that collect our footprints, a keepsake of our travels here. These places, THIS is what we all have in common, these sights, they unite us, though few see it.
The man down the street stares at an old abandoned building were once music came from on the weekends, he seems to hear the songs of his childhood that have haunted it since opening night. A man looks at a bar and he seems to pause, leaning against the old theatre the other man is staring at, he looses himself in memories of his own, a small smile touching his face before walking in.
This is our city, we walk in the shadows of those whom came before us. These buildings built so long ago recording history in their mortar and brick as it happens. The entire city connected on a level, which many will never see, the underlying things that connect and break our lives. The drug deals, the men whom are naught but mafia on motorcycles, the unsung heroes whom deal with these men and risk their lives to bring down entire organizations. The officers who risk their lives walking into alleys after drug dealers and operatives. This city provides for us, our curiosities, bows to our whims and invokes beer dampened ecstasy hazed by memories of friends, fights, laughs, kisses, and nights that brought me closer to the people whom matter most. To some it’s a place to live, to me it’s a place that taught me about life and the confusion that so often walk hand in hand with it. We are the words that write its story, and our story is the book it reads…<br>
M. Seth Aspen
