New York New York

Big Apple city streets and subways less safe.
Fruit has gone sour, partake of it at your own risk.
Lunatics push you into 82,000 pounds of screeching death,
Flattens and chews you up, a cadaver in a meat grinder.
Dreadful, horrible way to go out in bloody bits and pieces,
A signature way to die on the rails from a shove in Gotham City.
Happens more and more often, like a twisted steel fad.
Street psychopaths attack and put you to sleep in the
City that never sleeps. Random attacks the thing.
Older more likely to be the next statistic, but
Anybody’s on the impromptu knock out list.
The prep probably walks while you in the ICU.
Light sentence, if any. Coddled criminals rights
More important than your insignificant citizen safety.
Illegals attacking police free to leave despite
The unwritten rule you don’t attack the
Protectors in blue or the hammer of justice
Hammers you harder, an example set.
New York of old before worms in the Big Apple,
And the bright lights of the city nights went dim
O how I mourn for you.

Bob Boyd

Author: BobBoyd

79, cancer survivor, work out 3 times a week, ride exercise bike 60 minutes daily. Kundalini energy rising since age 27, began writing poetry October 2023. Pisces, which may be why I have fish for pets, read and listened to many NDEs, Shared Death Visions, and Death Bed Visions, see death as the awakening of a lifetime and the ultimate relocation.

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