|
Stoplights blink off green, on red
Ignore the idiotic repetition. I just felt a bit lyrical. So, this is basically about monotony, so I tried to stay to a fairly constrained metrical path. There were a few words that I just had to add syllables to so that I was pleased. This was supposed to go on, with the man seeing a woman with blond hair, wearing yellow walking into the office building, involving an image with a room stacked high with paper and zombie like gazes on computer screens, but I just couldn't continue on without falling into contrived wordings, and, at one point, there was a line that said "and that was that" (I almost killed myself). I really should add some sort of dynamic verse to this to actually make my point, but I think for you clever folks it should be evident enough.
Stoplights blink off green, on red
Stoplights blink off green, on red
With chorused eyes affixed on them
And trackéd gazes resting on
And on and on and on and on
Lifeless, dull, cloudy, pale
Evolved useless, dusky orbs.
And calloused hands still flickering
In unison against a steering wheel
On down the line of traffic
In droves down the asphalt path.
Like clockwork, against the time, they tick,
Exhaust pouring from their rear,
A man watches on up on a pole,
His numbing fingers switching
The red, the green, the yellow, too.
Observed against the blaring sun
The man watches, drivers turn
Down the same wornéd paths
To the suburbs where they live.
It’s five o’clock, a minute since,
A half an hour past its due,
Four hours since return, again,
And so they travel down the road.
An office building sits at left,
Its perfect, prefab walls erect,
Perpendicular to the walk,
White and in its solitude.
In groups, the workers go in hence,
Most of them in suits, red ties,
Carrying boxes, boxes
And the cases full of workers’ tools.
Opaque glass doors open south
And into darkened halls, they go.
The man knows no good recompense
For the lifeless, selfless hell.
|
