The back streets of the city hide <br /> a multitude of untold tales <br />The mean streets where the stench abides <br />of rancid dreams left to decay. <br /> <br />Far different from the countryside <br /> the green hills and the pleasant vales. <br />Where simple country folk reside. <br />Fresh dreams emerging every day. <br /> <br />The city street may well decide <br /> which man succeeds and which man fails. <br />The ebbing flowing surging tides <br /> of little men who have no say. <br /> <br />The city fathers try to hide <br />(but their efforts are bound to fail.) <br />the city’s seamy underside. <br />Where petty criminals hold sway. <br /> <br />Some folks escape by suicide <br />and others fill the city’s jail. <br />There’s poverty on every side. <br />It seems the problems here to stay. <br /> <br />Here ideologies collide <br /> But more is said than’s ever done. <br />The city has no cause for pride. <br />We’ve little choice but wait and pray. <br /> <br /> The city fathers say they’ve tried <br />but I beg leave to doubt their word. <br />I’m totally unsatisfied <br />There’s jam tomorrow none today. <br /> <br />17/08/2009 <br />http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers<br /><br />ivor or ivor.e hogg<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/promises-unkept-for-friend-chad/
