Tattooed City
Tattooed City
Stop stuffing me with your gothic truths-
Your advertised white credit card trimmed lies-
Hung in the windows on Madison Ave.-
Sprang from your heels spiked – pissed on pavement-
So cool you’re freezing from lack of potential-
Selling the soul out from under america-
Single soulless lives mingle to get a drink-
Calling themselves artists to get under ripe silicone-
The smell of earth is lost to neon paint-
On century old temples, castles without noblemen-
Noblemen with one hand in the pot of gold-
I’ve never seen a rainbow here, just…
No parking, no standing, no signs of-
Progress is: there are more people
Who would rather live underground
Than face you…
American city of all cities…
The grandest city in all the world:
NY
10.01
About this entry
You’re currently reading “Tattooed City,” an entry on Peripheral Vision
- Published:
- June 1, 2006 / 5:10 am
- Category:
- Poetry
- Tags:

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