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I walk on the City of Man
in today`s hot summer,
breathe the soot of the man-made air,
snap the sky bloating out my eyes,
hear the metallic noise,
the deafening silence
of the nature`s voice, the groan
of the mother earth rendered sterile
by cement and asbestos,or by
the rising houses of God and Man.
Walking on the City of Man
in today`s hot summer,
I see Man himself in his homes
and churches, fanned
by his own creative luxuries-
to paint the soot into cold breeze,
the sky into a heaven-blue,
the metallic noise into
the classical music, and
the groaning earth
into a transient habitat
of alien flowers and orchids.
While on the other street in
the City of Man in today`s hot summer,
I see the other man without
his native fan or native roof,
not even a muffler to defend his lungs
from the soot,
neither the pure nature`s voice
to render music to his ears
nor a portion of the mother earth
to work with for his native food.
And the Man in the City of Man
continues to build his houses
and the houses for his God,
and the other man
in the City of Man
stands as the other man
cheaper
than the houses of God and Man.
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