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Human Monsters (The Suffering)
by Jersey D GibsonIn the city, in the streets,
neon lights so harsh in my eyes.
On the prowl, on the hunt,
coke fiends looking for the next high.
I Suffer!
Suburban rich kids know the score,
with a little money, you can get anything.
Poor black families on welfare,
with the right piece, you can get 5 to 20.
You Suffer!
Crazy people line the streets like memorials,
just pretend that they don't exist.
Homeless people line the buildings,
hands reaching out for any type of break.
We Suffer!
See the suits walking with cellphones,
driving innercity tanks called Escalades.
See the hobos walking with backpacks,
walking down dirty roads with ratty shoes.
To Suffer!
Trees along these streets for a little color,
distract us from this concrete jungle.
Skyscrapers rise like hands to God,
metal and glass answering all our prayers.
The final judgement stands,
it causes everyone to suffer.
Made by your will,
we never stood a chance.
Another mall put up for our consumer needs,
see the evangelists handing out flyers.
Another child wanders the streets on her own,
but you're not intrested because she's a hooker.
I Suffer!
Pimps and hoes with their gaudy clothes,
drug dealers working the corner in teams.
Cops ride in bumper-to-bumper traffic,
taxi cabs like ferrymen to Hell.
You Suffer!
Construction has blocked another street,
doesn't that just piss you off?
Dilapidated building rotten to the core,
'indigants' watching their home fall apart.
We Suffer!
Wander the wrong alley, fear for your life,
it's just filled with scum and other low-lives.
To you these dark streets are a place to avoid,
to the rest of us, it's our neighborhood.
To Suffer!
Gangfights turn a block into a warzone,
we're all fighters, money are our weapons.
Spray your cash for drugs and happiness,
just fueling this broken machine.
The final judgement stands,
it causes everyone to suffer.
Made by your will,
I never stood a chance.
Demand which God,
judged you Mankind.
Did we stand a chance,
or is Heaven in the way? 06/21/2005 Posted on 06/21/2005
Copyright © 2024 Jersey D Gibson
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Jeffrey Parren on 06/21/05 at 04:31 PM I like the form and ideas here, but I feel as the idea is forced with many a cliche. I suppose for man to learn anything he needs to investigate and constantly understand the past which has made him, but I feel in this the descriptions and metaphors are overused. When do cops ever sit in traffic? I feel like I have heard these many times as well..."concrete jungle", "pimps and hoes". Maybe I don't understand the full meaning, but I feel some of this is forced. How do you know "...this broken machine." Maybe it is working as it was designed? Or supposed to? I feel some commentary is overworked, other isn't addressed enough...~JPP |
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