Monday, February 20, 2012

The Rhythm Of The City

The rhythm of the city
An emotionless machine
Manufactured in reality
Shining but unclean

Built on sand and fantasy
Mirror of mirage
Reflected by the silver screen
Of chrome in the garage

Vision blocked by concrete
Callused hearts encased
Deafened by the drum beat
Tongues too seared to taste

Masked by thrum of engines
And the chatter of the screen
The still small voice is buried
The footpath isn't seen

Images and idols
Technologically divised
Words of cotton candy
That dissolve before your eyes

Intellect and science
Worshipped by decree
Giving credit to illusion
So the chained believe they're free

Fundamental skeletons
In self appointed roles
Clothed in robes of office
But carnivorous of souls

Speaking words that come from knowledge
But do not come from light
Letter lacking spirit
Adding darkness to the night 

 Don Francisco 

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