My Human Progress Poem by Monos Unalos

An idea begins to form
Like a sky scraper prickling the airs
Inside so calm at moments
And so utterly strenuous
At others pervaded by
Steep sheer winds coldly
Blowing from northern truths.
The rafters crumble as I see
A metamorhpisis of a city
Being demolished and recreated
By incredible corporations
And transfigurations of
Ideas in constant motion;
Plowing forth in the strange
Places of sunlight and night.
The rivers run as always
Amidst the reverberating massacre,
Why, why, why?
There are people helplessly
Cast away as new walls,
Gates and intricate keys
Are melded and formed
By hideous mayors
Laying waste to glorious
Pyramids and temples
At haste, for profit alone
And for their hideous glutteny.
I see savages, kind, angered, true
Hopelessly forlorn and alone
Amidst the technic catastrophe