Beatnik Blues


I'm out of place in your asphalt jungle,
this web of concrete perplexes my feet.
I don't belong where glass replaces tree.

Starving tigers peer at me from corners;
I'm not afraid, not naïve-I'm wary.
I'm out of place in your asphalt jungle.

Your dark, heavy air is choking my lungs,
my vision blinded by your polished sand.
I don't belong where glass replaces tree.

I'm standing, immobilized, waiting for
the signal that tells the crowd when to move.
I'm out of place in your asphalt jungle.

The florae captivate me and I lose
myself in the quicksand, yet it's lonely-
I don't belong where glass replaces tree.

I ascend within you, one-step, two-steps
become six-steps above: but no escape.
I'm out of place in your asphalt jungle,
I don't belong where glass replaces tree.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem