My City
I journeyed from my city
across the land of dreams
and found the destiny of those
who wandered away from their cities
my country is not Karl Marx
it is not the ancient past of politics
drowned in a sea of oblivion
staring in the light of shadows
England is my home, the past is my city
England will come as men of desperate needs
come to the rich, the land is my psyche
buildings are my nerves
rain is my blood
my city is standing before me
poem by Bassel Almasalmeh
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Related quotes
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
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
city city city city city city
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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City Of Sin
City of sin
When will thou go clean
A foolish society
In an archaic city
Full of vanity
A city without conscience
Full of violence
Greediness and selfishness
Why should there be a city
Without justice and fairness
The rich over the poor
Blood do they devour
Life becomes sore
Her daughters turn hoer
How can there exist
Such a city
If goodness is banish
Then we are all finish
Why won't they perish
Why must i cherish
Such an evil city
poem by Matt Ancient
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Salaam Bombay
Tell me of a city not built by its own,
Tell me of a city, which can stand alone.
Talk of a place where the land is scarce
Where people will share more than their own fare.
The common man is the strength of this city
He is a man of steel, gutsy and gritty.
The Spirit of people is the fuel of existence.
No man, No child, No Woman shy of assistance
On a normal day, no one will bother you,
Come crisis, and not one will desert you.
No where in the world are people so selfless,
Call it the rudest city in the world, but not helpless.
What it lacks in Space, It makes up in Spirit
Rain may flood and blasts can rock the city.
Here the lifeline is not blood, or a heartbeat,
The life line is a rack on track.
No city in the World like this,
Not Rome, not London, nor Paris,
Hats off to the Land of Dreams,
Salaam Bombay, I hear myself scream.
poem by Ashish Ram
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Romace in the moonlight
In the city where the colours run dry
Or in the country where the colour green is applied
In the city where there are polluting cars
Or in the country where you can see the stars
In the city there are gangs, all full of violence
Or in the country where there is only silence
In the city where the air, its so thick
Or in the country where you dont feel sick
In the city where you seal the deal
Or in the country where it is a place to heal
In the city every corner is a fight
But in the city the romance is in the moonlight
poem by Nicole Buckland
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The City Vs. The Country
In the city where the colours run dry,
Or in the country where the farmers grow rye.
In the city where there are fees,
Or in the country where beauty is free.
In the city where there are loud crowds,
Or in the country where you can watch clouds.
In the city where you camp out in your room,
Or in the country where you have fun dancing with a broom.
In the city where there are polluting cars,
Or in the county where you can see stars.
In the city where you seal the deal,
Or in the country where you can heal.
In the city where you say later,
Or in the country where you can see the water.
In the city where space is tight,
Or in the country where you hold their hand in the moonlight.
Written by Haley McRae,14.
poem by Haley McRae
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Song: Suicide City
Down at suicide city,
Null of pride and past all pity.
Suicide city:
A stressed out Walter Mitty,
I'm at suicide city,
And I've maxed out my last chitty.
Suicide city, for my crime.
It's the dreaming and aphasic snow,
The white noise of this constant go.
And frozen in the cauldron's glow,
Of demons and my fears of woe;
The neediness of knee-jerk foe,
Who'd stand and fight them toe to toe,
Toe to toe, toe to toe...
Down at suicide city,
With nothing in the kitty.
Suicide city:
My life has got so shitty.
I'm at suicide city,
Waist deep in nitty-gritty.
Suicide city. In the slime.
It's the waking and the finding,
Of the ties, no longer binding,
In a white light: burning, blinding,
That no-one wants to know.
It's the grating and the grinding,
Of my teeth and nerves unwinding.
It's the brazen lies, reminding me
Of a dog and pony show!
Down at suicide city,
There ain't no joke so witty.
Suicide city:
The outcome won't be pretty.
I'm at suicide city,
Where I'll sing my final ditty.
Suicide city. Done my time.
I've done my time!
poem by David SmithWhite
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The Big City Type
I woke up in a big city apartment
Rode to a big city job
On a big city subway
With hip, big city people
Worked at a big city job
In a big city skyscraper
Stood in a big city line
For lunch, heard big city jazz
On a big city radio station
It was like a big city scene
In a big budget movie
When I realized I had become
The big city type
I always wanted to be
Yet I was still me
poem by Adam Artois
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Who Goes Home?
In the city set upon slime and loam
They cry in their parliament 'Who goes home?'
And there comes no answer in arch or dome,
For none in the city of graves goes home.
Yet these shall perish and understand,
For God has pity on this great land.
Men that are men again; who goes home?
Tocsin and trumpeter! Who goes home?
For there's blood on the field and blood on the foam
And blood on the body when Man goes home.
And a voice valedictory . . . Who is for Victory?
Who is for Liberty? Who goes home?
poem by G.K. Chesterton
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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To Leave This City
This is the city to walk around in the rain
Staring at the barges in the harbor
And to hum songs through the night.
The city has countless streets
Bustling with people running around...
The waitress who brings me my tea every evening
And whom I like a lot although she's a White Russian
Is in this city.
The old pianist who turns around
To look at me
When he sneaks in pieces by Schumann and Brahms
While playing waltzes and foxtrot
Is also in this city.
The ferry boats that caryy passengers
To the village where I was born are in this city.
So are my memories,
All those I love,
And the graves of my loved ones.
This is the city where I have a job,
Where I earn my bread money.
And yet, in spite of all this,
This is the same city I'm leaving
Because of a woman
In another city.
poem by Orhan Veli Kanik
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New York City
Standing on the corner
Just me and yoko ono
We was waiting for jerry to land
Up come a man with a guitar in his hand
Singing, have a marijuana if you can
His name was david peel
And we found that he was real
He sang, the pope smokes dope every day
Up come a policeman shoved us up the street
Singing, power to the people today!
New york city...new york city...new york city
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Well down to maxs kansas city
Got down the nitty gritty
With the elephants memory band
Laid something down
As the news spread around
About the plastic ono elephants memory band!
And we played some funky boogie
And laid some tutti frutti
Singing, long tall sallys a man.
Up come a preacherman trying to be a teacher
Singing, gods a red herring in drag!
New york city...new york city...new york city
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
New york city...new york city...new york city
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
Well we did the staten island ferry
Making movies for the telly
Played the fillmore and apollo for freedom
Tried to shake our image
Just a cycling through the village
But found that we had left it back in london
Well nobody came to bug us
Hustle us or shove us
So we decided to make it our home
If the man wants to shove us out
We gonna jump and shout
The statue of liberty said, come!
New york city...new york city...new york city
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
New york city...back in new york city...new york city
Que pasa, new york?
Que pasa, new york?
song performed by by Lennon John
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Who Goes Home?
In the city set upon slime and loam
They cry in their parliament 'Who goes home?'
And there comes no answer in arch or dome,
For none in the city of graves goes home.
Yet these shall perish and understand,
For God has pity on this great land.
Men that are men again; who goes home?
Tocsin and trumpeter! Who goes home?
For there's blood on the field and blood on the foam
And blood on the body when Man goes home.
And a voice valedictory . . . Who is for Victory?
Who is for Liberty? Who goes home?
poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton
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High In The City
I got the time, I got my feet
Lets go hit the street
High in the city
High in the city
I got my mace and you got your knife
You gotta protect your own life
High in the city
High in the city
I wanna get high in the city
I wanna stay alive here in the city
I wanna stay high in the city
High in the city
High in the city
Lets not walk down sutton place
You know everybody there got an akitas
High in the city
High in the city
Dont wanna talk politics today
I feel too good let me have my way
High in the city
High in the city
Watch out for that guy on your right
Seen him on the news last saturday night
He was high in the city
High in the city
Hey, look theyre setting fire to that jeep
Theres not much you can keep
High in the city
High in the city
I wanna get high in the city
I wanna stay alive in the city
I wanna stay high in the city
High in the city
High in the city
So many people feeling low
And theres only one way to go to
Get high in the city
High in the city
Lets grap a pie, lets hit the park
Ill kiss and hug you till it gets dark
Here in the city
Getting high in the city
(high in the city)
(high in the city and youre looking so pretty)
(feelin pretty witty, gettin high off of the city)
(hi-ai-ai-ai, high in the city)
(high in the city)
(high in the city and youre looking so pretty)
(feelin pretty witty, gettin high off of the city)
(hi-ai-ai-ai, high in the city)
(high in the city)
(high in the city and youre looking so pretty)
(feelin pretty witty, gettin high off of the city)
(hi-ai-ai-ai, high in the city)
song performed by by Lou Reed
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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September Villanelle
SEPTEMBER VILLANELLE
September invokes something special in my ancient country
No 'Fall' here, no amber leaves, upon her crowded earth
Her billion people stand united, share the Indian psyche
Post monsoon, the land is a lush green mostly
Amid her crowded cities, one feels the warmth of her burning hearth
September invokes something special in my ancient country
In this land of a thousand festivals, one stands primary
It's the worship of Lord Ganesha, the elephant God of divine birth
Her billion people stand united, share the Indian psyche
The son of Shiva is worshipped by all with glee
Massive idols of Ganesha smile and spread the mirth
September invokes something special in my ancient country
India has cultures, religions and castes aplenty
Open to all festivals; of a free spirit no dearth
Her billion people stand united, share the Indian psyche
Yet, September brings with it sorrow too, the fall of the towers in NY City
The fallen unite in death the Earth's entire girth
September invokes something special in my ancient country
Her billion people stand united, share the Indian psyche
poem by Manjula Reddy
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Wonderful Wonderful Dream
As i walk by the sea
I hear the breeze blowing in my ear
whispering of things never heard
A land that cover by fog
A city under the sea
A flying city in the sky
And how i wish i could see it all
In the night i dream a wonderful dream
Of a land cover by fog
Where creatures never before seen
Beautiful unicorn
running with the wind
Lovely fairies
Flying everywhere
Of a city under the sea
where lovely mermaid
swim and dance
with lovely music all around
Of a flying city in the sky
where live a race
never known
Wizard, witches, sorcerer and sorceress
From the land that cover by fog
to the city under the sea
From the city under the sea
to the flying city in the sky
From the flying city in the sky
to my bed in a room
where the sun had shine in
and awaken from my wonderful wonderful dream
Sigh.............
How i wish to remain in my wonderful dream
poem by Josephine Lee
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The Song Of An Emigrant
Far away! O far away,
Over the wide sea's bounding spray,
Many a league o'er the pelting foam.
We seek a country, we seek a home!
Farewell, England! our native land,
Lingering still on thy verdant strand,
We look our last on thy once-loved shore,
And vow in our hearts to return no more.
Far away! O far away!
Nothing invites us here to stay.
England, our mother, is hard as stone,
And shuts her ear to her children's moan,
And running on to destruction sure,
Pampers the rich, and grinds the poor!
Farewell, England! A last farewell!
We fly thy shores, but we wish thee well.
Far away! O far away!
We seek a world o'er the ocean spray.
Welcome, O land across the sea,
Where bread is plenty, and man is free;
Welcome, the woods and deserts drear,
And boundless fields of another sphere.
Our sails are set, and the breezes swell,
England, Our country--Farewell! Farewell!
poem by Charles Mackay
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City Of Beggars
The sky is always blue in the city of beggars
There is not much green in the city of beggars
There are buildings being built so fast in the city of beggars
In every corner that you encounter
The city of beggars are growing so fast
And in the city of beggars lives 30 million people
The air is not that good in the city of beggars
Because of the factories and the cars
The city of beggars never sleep
The noise goes on 24 hours a day
It is not safe to walk in the street of beggars
Because you can get robbed and killed at any time of the night or day
The traffic is chaotic in the city of beggars
Thanks God there is no snow in the city of beggars
poem by Aldo Kraas
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Safe In New York City
(young - young)
Hello baby gimme your hand
Check out the high spots the lay of the land
You dont need a rocket or a big limousine
Come on over baby and Ill make you obscene
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
All over the city and down to the dives
Dont mess with this place itll eat you alive
Got lip smackin honey to soak up the jam
On top of the world ma ready to slam
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
Movin all over like a jumpin bean
Take a look at that thing in the tight ass jeans
Comin your way now you may be in luck
Dont you fret boy shes ready to buck
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
I feel safe in new york city
New york, new york, new york
I feel safe in a cage in new york city
2000, j. albert & son, pty.
song performed by by AC-DC
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ripoff
I don't wanna be no traitor to the cause
But England is a luxury - not many can afford
There's people going under - it's getting out of hand
Whatever happened to our - our green and pleasant land?
It turned into a wilderness; it turned into a third world country
Most people ain't getting what they pay for
Some people gettin' more than they should be
I know, I know - I'm an alien - but what are you gonna do
I wanna live in England - but it gets to you
It gets to you, it gets to you, it gets to you
I really don't know why - England's such a ripoff
It's crazy, but it's true
I really don't know why - England wants to rip off you
England wants to rip off you, England wants to rip off you
What do you do when you find out?
Where do you go if you leave?
There's no place like home - that's what they say
And that's what you always believed
Someday you might win the Lottery
Someday you might win the Pools
But that's all you've got - that's all you've got
- to live for, to live for
That's all you've got - that's all you've got -
to live for, to live for (yeah)
To be or not to be - that's the question
Oh what's it gonna be?
I'd love to live in England - but it gets to me
it gets to me, it gets to me, yeah it gets to me
I really don't know why - England's such a ripoff
It's crazy, but it's true
I really don't know why - England wants to rip off you
England wants to rip off you, England wants to rip off you
I really don't know why - England's such a ripoff
It's crazy, but it's true
Oh I really don't know why - England wants to rip off
England wants to rip off , England wants to rip o
song performed by by Ian Hunter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Country
This country has a beginning,
Instead the work becomes an ocean.
Oceans boil up to the top,
The sea is blood and gore.
When you stay in a city,
This inland place is your home.
How does the city reflect
Your eternal being at all?
Why do cities and towns keep running away
From normal people?
poem by Naveed Akram
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Lagos
City of noise, fumes, dirt and corruption
City of beaches, money, luxury and lust
A city where your wisdom is lost
Where serenity is covered in sweat and blood
Lagos will disregard your identity
Hires blind men as tour guides
Desperate hours in internet cafes
While the gambler awaits his reward
The souls of men held hostage in hotel rooms
Privacy is non existent
And loneliness is right by your side
Your sleep is surrounded by tears and sorrow
Lagos the city of false dreams
Salt on the open wounds of insignificance
Morality lost during nights of surrender
Among oppression hope barely survives
Dreams of a land in the distance
Remain unfulfilled in a cloud of promises
Promises of a better tomorrow
Only found in the arms of true love
poem by Kristina Louisa Carr
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