Untitled

The newspaper’s in the trash can
The journalist, he seems unsure
All the things he thought he knew
They now seem so absurd
Pointedly, he makes mention
Of his untimely decline
He climbs into his unmade bed
Weeping to his bride
The past, as he would tell it
Has been thwarted by the priest
As he stares out the window
Onto the empty city street

The day has almost receded
The night is beginning to rise
The city in all its splendor
Is about to come alive
Lovers crossing street lamps
Roost underneath the bridge
Both entranced by mystery
And both, so frigid
The constable, he sees them panting
He strikes them with his feet
And now, there are two dead boys
Lying in the city street

Pigeons trapped in cages
All along the rooftop edge
Are chirping their fears away
And are leaving hope for dead
The keeper has been little comfort
Or the ringleader at least declared
Lending to the line of thought
That soon would fill the air
Causing all to fill with fret
And some to even care
And as they hummed in unison
The message was discrete
None in cages or in the sky
Would sweep the city street

Fortune seems oh so tempting
At least to the midnight mime
He speaks with silent wisdom
And pretends that all is fine
He watches all the antics
Of the shadows and their kin
Confused by their hypocrisy
And scared of their intent
He sees a child walking
Into the where the bell has rung
The mime, he tries to warn her
But the devil has cut out his tongue
And as the child is lifted up
Dangling by her feet
The mime, he sits and sleeps alone
Upon the city street

The beggar, though just a boy
He sees the coming dawn
And so with cup in shaking hand
He refuses to be a pawn
Though his hat is on so crooked
And he is mocked by all who pass
The angels have prepared him
For this, his bravest task
Pity has been his companion
And often some disdain
But the beggar boy looks to the sky
As his tears mingle with rain
He needs the coin and needs it quick
For his parents are recently deceased
And he has to purchase flowers for them
And leave the city street