forums : Neptune For Poetry

This City

This is not your city
This city belongs to the invisible.
This city is owned by the eyes that look at you through your BMW Windscreen and beg voicelessly for change
this city belongs to the grass growing on the cracked pavement.
This city belongs to survival
to tenacity
To things so calloused by experience they bloom in the rain
This city belongs to the things that photosynthesize your burning stare.
This city isn't yours and your money cannot buy or possess.
The ability of money is illusion.
It's true ability is smoke and mirrors and games
When the laughter dies down this city isn't yours
When the riots are burning down universities, this city isn't yours
This city belongs to the rubber bullet riddled back.
To the maid raising the white kids that'll grow to resent her
This city is hers
It's his...him.
The guy that's been walking it's streets for years
walking to the low paying job that will be his death.
Walking to the hard labour job that will be his end.
This city belongs to a lot of people, but not to you, my friend.
this city is ours.