The River Of Life Poem by Peter Black

I once dreamed of a river that ran through
In winding springs, the green and brown and blue,
That swirl into the wild, the lost place,
That man has feared since we started to shave.
Its cool waters flowed down to the seas,
And fish would jump the clear surface, peace breach,
Sending out ripples and soft ringing waves,

But where I live is a river of light,
That shows fake pink and yellow and lime,
Sparking the way downtown;
Even after the sun has died
People walk in the current,
Lifting up their heads splashing for air.

Chaos, it rages over concrete floors,
Towards the delta of death,
Where bones are scattered, rejected by stones,
Bleached white, to be powdered, fractured and blown.