black phantom shadows -
(human beings)
aromatic ghosts float
but rarely are they seen
check out the scent on the putrid, muted
breeze - busted-up blood tragedy - many
people trapped - flat in the middle of a Kafka dream
people seem fine with the all night whine - the night sirens
sound like Donizetti's Borgeia in C - street trolls lose their
funky-monkey mind - won't listen to a melody in any other key
maximize a siren to its highest boost -
then play that wail in C - it soon will find a
place to roost - as people love to listen to
a loud melodic melody in that magic key
mighty mister-dumpsters filled to brim tonight -
as nighgtime dippers quickly dip and slip from sight
while safer, hipper dippers dip at morning light
but crack-head harlots sometimes skip the dip -
the appetite is not in sight when smokin' crack
becomes a dieter's delight
little Lizzie crack-head takes a dive - in dumpster number nine -
lunch in the city - be a pity not to dine - in a loaded dipsy-dumpster
where the food tastes fine - but Lizzie leaned too far - she fell right in -
but not a hungry harlot at the bottom of the bin -'cause squirmy little wormies
ate Lizzie and her sin
bright badge's shine
on a Saturday night
uninformed authority
on famine and blight
people never look
a beat cop in the eye
no matter what the truth
or street wise lie
street people know
the bureaucratic game
are dirty little shake-downs
of multitudinal shame
you don't talk to cops
you don't give your name
you never let a cop
be director of the game
day to day gravity can cause great pain - on paralyzed,
gutter-rutted people in the rain - better stand guard
over precious cityways - Mammon's dimmin' down -
seen its better days - when the harshest haze of poverty
was hidden in the maze of interlocking alleyways where
shrouded safe in darkness - the furry vermin plays