Absorbed by mill owners-union comrades,
Or inundates that shedding clouds & eyes;
The streets tearing down disquiet rubbers,
Feet agitated scurrying for bread besides.
Trains packed with emptiness, flesh in friction,
Eyes never meet to ever greet;
Waves’ surprises with years of dirt submerged,
As Each, craving to hold entirety below feet.
The art ain’t art but diversion distraction,
In political correctness where ackers’ spent;
Who owns who what where how, now or then;
Names no more real, alas, alias within.
No mercy joy peace time on puffery lands,
Thoughts confined to boxes, boxes within;
Whether tier two or three one goes; alas,
Cities’ are now all from row houses begin!😇
© Pranav Chaturvedi 2021