The Streets of Pollution

When the shift comes

When the good has come undone

Rung out of the feelings

Absurd little dealings

Of high dollar agreements

Gentrification and public ceilings

I have become the problem

No longer a solution

Another chimney

On the streets of pollution

My feelings have crackled

Dried up like timber

Burst into flames

Under the opposite

Season to winter

My hopes wither

From giant logs on a river

To little more than a small sliver

The exchanges of gold and silver

Have yielded a new type sinner

With higher debts

And higher fevers

To push up rents

And out the believers

So now maybe I am the problem

I am not quite sure how it shifted

From pushing keys

In the seat I am sitting

Now to the lords of rent

Coming down hard

In a city unfit for a family and yard

So I will move on

To new opportunities and games

For somewhere else I may be the solution

To help clean up

The new streets of pollution

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Unattainable Repose

The elusive ghost

Chased through streets

Competing with our hands

Feet

Mouths open and close

Drifting words hung

Before the evening repose

This unattainable drifting ghost

My soul collapses on Wednesday

To only renew the next day

The brittleness of surviving

Well below the standards of

Living well and thriving

Conniving thoughts land soft

When arriving

Then dismissed in the thought abyss

Of carrying on

This day I just long for easy nights

Well rested then feeling alright

Keeping the feelings down

In my mind

In time

I will find

A rhyme of words

To keep me ahead

Instead of walking

Flying

In moments of desperation

It’s feet ahead

Eyes wide open

To just keep on trying