we move in concert with concrete on wheels, in walking
it is art form -
it is the city -
it is the echo of a single vowel,
the spacing of a single numeral -(minus itself)
it is the heartbeat of all civil and un-civilized alike
there are scores here
whores not always in red - there are priests and paupers here
pilgrims in buckled shoes, pushers and politicians
toting charities with cheating
the holy nurse here - suckling the milk of mothers
counting their blessings, selling their souls
it is art formed -
it is nature painted as un-natural
framed and auctioned to high bidder
pawned for penance and a trip to Rio
bkmackenzie
copyrighted 2011
posted for Magpie Tales
life is art...all of us different yet one...a number minus itself...ha i like...rio might not be bad but trips end and i think i would rather keep mine...smiles.
ReplyDeleteThanks for this. It is very gentle and very true.
ReplyDelete...it is the echo of a single vowel....to the heartbeat of the civil and uncivilized alike....we are all connected in some way.....missed you Bkm....glad you are back.
ReplyDeleteA vivid visual of passersby, of hopes and other dreams. A lively read!
ReplyDeletelet's not forget the poets who pen here in the flow to Rio.
ReplyDeleteNice bkm.
Love your art form!
ReplyDeleteThis (poem) is art, a beauty, a masterpiece of words. Excellent!
ReplyDeleteAnna :o]
I see the city in your poem, as reflected in this red chair. Nice job.
ReplyDeleteit is the echo of a single vowel and the echoes of this poem I will hear for a long time. Beautiful, thank you.
ReplyDelete