Wednesday, 23 February 2011

New York

The city of New York
It never fails to raise the spirits
Every time I see it sprawled
Across my screen I long to visit

From one big city, London
To the next, across the pond
My eyes and ears assaulted
As I'm briskly moved along

It's such a hectic harmony
To which I do aspire
It stirs my soul with ambient
Invigorating fire 

The streets are lit with destitution
Buildings float on power
A wanton juxtaposition
For hour after hour

It forms a kind of beauty
On such unfamiliar lines
I'll never be a stockbroker
Nor tough street baller I 

I'll never belong in that city
A tourist's all I'd be
But somewhere in my heart
I feel there is a missing piece

Maybe were I born and raised
In Brooklyn or Manhattan
I wouldn't spend my precious days
On Google maps in Staten

Wishing I were there for real
The home of liberty
The port from which the outsiders
Can reach the brave and free 

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