what has become of my city?
the buildings that scrape skies
the cacophony of wheels on asphalt
and the myriad sounds that fly
.
the city was hushed to silence
and the stores lie empty
where there once were rows of shops
now lie dark, unkempt cavities
.
how can life be brought back to this city?
perhaps we can make it like tokyo or seoul
even brighter than it already is
we can inject our culture into media
.
and tourists will trample where we live
or it can become bali
our spirituality under gentrification
what was once the temples of our land
.
now a site for socialite colonization
maybe more like new york, the bay, or la
after all, our finances are halfway there
we just just need to make food fancier
.
and border off the poor when no one is aware
santa fe is a beautiful place
let’s tear down our buildings and make them old
and suddenly acknowledge our dying cultures
.
into a simulacra of stories we never told
what about bangkok? so kind on budgets
but at the cost of so much dignity
so much can be whored out for tourism
.
until that’s all we are known to be
more like dubai, a gem in a desert
the one place where faith and morals
can be trashed for floating islands and skyscrapers
.
and expendable men are used for the deplorable
how can life be brought back to this city?
we are broken, but we have been broken before
our buildings torn down, and filled with holes
.
our streets filled with smoke and water
and our name falling into the unknown
but our concrete still stands, and we still walk
throughout the streets we have seen destroyed
.
is it really change that we need, or repair
in order to bring back the spirit we once employed?
the city is broken, but never shattered
our every step holds together the sinews
.
that stretch throughout our tectonic plates
and our voice has the power to renew
we are the sound of the broken
but we don’t need to be repaired
.
with every crack in the pottery of this city
we walk, and our steps let out flares