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Poems On / About CITY  7/13/2014 1:37:35 PM
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Best Poems About / On CITY

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Tale of Three Cities

New York blasted London blasted
Singapore -
Ripped off each other's metaphoric balls,
Crumbling walls.

Priapic city monoliths -
Blue-sky scraping bastards -
Shout about their height (but really length) .

V8 arseholes didn't care -
Pumping shit into the air,
So long as they were always there to
Fart aloud a smoggy cloud,
Laughing at the weak asthmatic,
Humoured that it seems traumatic.

Watch the greedy cities oozing
Chair-bound fat committees, though they
Look a bunch of titties as they
Waffle on about the pound.

Ever thought to look around and see
That they were dead?

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2010

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Mark R Slaughter

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Cities come and go
life and dead
distant towns berths
City of hiding places
City of beer and love
a bustling city
city streets
City of fate and struggle
do not know what city
cities did not said
the silent city
City of revolution
where blood spilled city
City no longer exists
which is a world city
city of dreams
restless city
flower city of hippies
John Lennon said city
City of no religion and hatred
who are the cities?
Cities do not know
maybe the city of God?
Imam Setiaji Ronoatmojo

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In the City of Night

City of night,
Wrap me in your folds of shadow.
City of twilight,
City that projects into the west,
City whose columns rest upon the sunset, city of square, threatening
masses blocking out the light:
City of twilight,
Wrap me in your folds of shadow.
City of midnight, city that the full moon overflows, city where the cats
prowl and the closed iron dust-carts go rattling through the shadows:
City of midnight,
Wrap me in your folds of shadow.
City of early morning, cool fresh-sprinkled city, city whose sharp roof
peaks are splintered against the stars, city that unbars tall haggard
gates in pity,
City of midnight,
Wrap me in your folds of shadow.
City of rain, city where the bleak wind batters the hard drops once and again,
sousing a shivering, cursing beggar who clings amid the stiff Apostles on the
cathedral portico;
City where the glare is dull and lowering, city where the clouds flare and flicker
as they pass upwards, where sputtering lamps stare into the muddy pools
beneath them;
City where the winds shriek up the streets and tear into the squares, city whose
cobbles quiver and whose pinnacles waver before the buzzing chatter of raindrops
in their flight;
City of midnight,
Drench me with your rain of sorrow.
City of vermilion curtains, city whose windows drip with crimson, tawdry, tinselled,
sensual city, throw me pitilessly into your crowds.
City filled with women's faces leering at the passers by,
City with doorways always open, city of silks and swishing laces, city where bands
bray dance-music all night in the plaza,
City where the overscented light hangs tepidly, stabbed with jabber of the crowd,
city where the stars stare coldly, falsely smiling through the smoke-filled air,
City of midnight,
Smite me with your despair.
City of emptiness, city of the white faηades, city where one lonely dangling lantern
wavers aloft like a taper before a marble sarcophagus, frightening away the ghosts;
City where a single white-lit window in a motionless blackened house-front swallows
the hosts of darkness that stream down the street towards it;
City above whose dark tree-tangled park emerges suddenly, unlit, uncannily, a grey
ghostly tower whose base is lost in the fog, and whose summit has no end.
City of midnight,
Bury me in your silence.
City of night,
Wrap me in your folds of shadow.
City of restlessness, city where I have tramped and wandered,
City where the herded crowds glance at me suspiciously, city where the churches are
locked, the shops unopened, the houses without hospitality,
City of restlessness,
Wrap me in your folds of shadow.
City of sleeplessness, city of cheap airless rooms, where in the gloom are heard snores
through the partition, lovers that struggle, couples that squabble, cabs that rattle,
cats that squall,
City of sleeplessness,
Wrap me in your folds of shadow.
City of feverish dreams, city that is being besieged by all the demons of darkness, city of
innumerable shadowy vaults and towers, city where passion flowers desperately and
treachery ends in death the strong:
City of night,
Wrap me in your folds of shadow.
John Gould Fletcher

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The Pretty, Pretty City

Now the city has a studded nose,
Because the city is so pretty, and the city knows:
The city, she almost fooled me underneath the
Chicken sky- The city is so pretty,
But the city lie:
I loved the city and all its vermilion moods and ice-creams,
With parks and busses and city airplanes
And city rides- City coffins and city dies;
And I watched the city get drunk and turn around
And raise its monuments and party down;
And I sat upon one of her benches in a speculating mood,
And wondered if the city was so pretty,
Why was she so rude: The vulgar nebulas of the city’s
Eyes, the narcissisms of its displays:
There are so many well suited boys better than I out walking
In their sunny city days:
And I realized, the city didn’t love me,
The city plays and paws and eats up little boys such as
Me- She said she loves her little poet boys, such as me,
But the sweet, sweet city lies,
Because the city is so pretty, studded nosed and stunning eyed,
But she uses her autumn facades to blind the autumn chicken skies-
The pretty, pretty city has me hypnotized,
But the pretty, pretty city lies.
Robert Rorabeck

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Poems On / About CITY