Promises Unkept For Friend Chad Poem by ivor or ivor.e hogg

The back streets of the city hide
a multitude of untold tales
The mean streets where the stench abides
of rancid dreams left to decay.

Far different from the countryside
the green hills and the pleasant vales.
Where simple country folk reside.
Fresh dreams emerging every day.

The city street may well decide
which man succeeds and which man fails.
The ebbing flowing surging tides
of little men who have no say.

The city fathers try to hide
(but their efforts are bound to fail.)
the city’s seamy underside.
Where petty criminals hold sway.

Some folks escape by suicide
and others fill the city’s jail.
There’s poverty on every side.
It seems the problems here to stay.

Here ideologies collide
But more is said than’s ever done.
The city has no cause for pride.
We’ve little choice but wait and pray.

The city fathers say they’ve tried
but I beg leave to doubt their word.
I’m totally unsatisfied
There’s jam tomorrow none today.

17/08/2009
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