The City

The City with no pity,

hot and hard and thirsty

with multi-million dollar dreams,

and cheap illusions and dirty schemes;

A million screens that flicker the news

of money’s views a world away,

no time disturbs this day,

For the world never stops turning

on a yen, or a pound or a dirty dime,

no thoughts or hopes sublime

disturb the moment’s fixation on the moment

when money breeds money,

a virus in a chain.

Verdant hues of figures that flash before

an endless screen of bonds and cash;

Wealth that never knew a human need,

a dream, a scream of unreality

borne in a heart of greed.

It’s the Real World I hear you say -

Hard as a hungry whore;

Desire deeper than lust -

a need , a must to win

and failure the only sin;

The soul’s reflection in the gleam

of a limosine, an air,

a bold presumptive stare

with the face of wealth

and a heart of stealth;

Ambition with love in chains,

that spares no pains for those daily gains,

For those stocks and shares

and gaudy market wares;

A heaven and hell that turns

on a sell, the tolling knell

of a passing day a world away

The City, with no pity.