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Great Writing - Home > Poetry > Awakened
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Poetry
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| Awakened | |
| By andybyers | ||||
| 22 September 2007 | ||||
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In tribute to North American suburbia. It offered up its soul; it said from this ancient forest, farmland laid, take your seat at your desk run with your friends kiss her learn an instrument ride back from the movies, retelling the tale water the lawn with your own sweat, as the hunter, the farmer, upon this ground There are those who will tell you there are those will would say that soul is found only upon the straightest of streets, — places without curves, colour, canopy — in crumbling buildings where people pay proudly too much to live above laundromats trap rats, despise their no(i)sy neighbours or bang on radiators in winter, squinting suspiciously, out frosted single-glazing, at cars from other streets, other towns: places unworthy and homes unequal like yours they're lying say so
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