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Under the Bridge

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I am the blowing wind
The breeze lifted with the pungent scent of roses
Across the watery lofts
The bridges where the lovers stroll
Etched into marble, elegant, and strong
Only the tears of the homeless, under the bridge, drown in placidity
Rippling the water’s swift current
Tears obeying the water’s will
Running with the river.

I am the blowing wind
Caressing through your hair
A shrill moment of ecstasy
Warmed under the sun
Light of the sky
A furnace
Pure and innocent
Even the sun is tempest
A torrent of terror in excess
Boils, Blisters, and Bile burst, ferment
But, alas, my dear dear friend
Enjoy the moment
Enjoy the wind
Tomorrow begins tomorrow, and
Today’s a brand new day

Under the bridge, a man eats
Under a bridge, a man cries
Under the bridge, a man sleeps
Under a bridge, the sun never reaches
Under the bridge, the man never boils
Under a bridge, a man is whole
Under the bridge, lies the man, lies security
Under a bridge, a man is the running river
Under the bridge, does the lonely man feel accompanied
Under the bridge, a hungry, tearless, scared man breathes
Under the bridge, at least a man breathes

Above the bridge
Along the skyline
Along the towers
Poignant and Robust
Bulging with lies, greed, and deception
Does the burning hatred of man saunter
The burning hatred of the man under the bridge
Who lives and breathes
Who eats and sleeps
Whom is cold and scared in the fading light
But, still, the man draws breadth
And the only truly suffocating are the bitter

Children, the youth walk the streets
Dressed in their finest Cotton
Nylon Polyester
Silk
Satin
Until the material becomes the child
And the child the material
Their feet rest upon the marble
The bridge beneath their feet
They spit on the man under the bridge
Label him ‘Animal’
And still he breathes
Breathes in sync with the running pace
The water’s fill

Dusk rests upon the bridge.
The city is silent with the night
Cold and restraint
Crime moves the shadows of buildings
And the whistle of crickets provides the only ambiance
And in this stark night a woman stands upon the bridge
She leans on the railing, looking down below
The roaring river swallowing up her fears
Her dreams, her memory’s
And she jumps
Plunges
And Becomes
Swallowed in a Sea
Running with the river
Her cries of terror streaming away
Her faceless shadow disappearing with her.







And still a man sleeps below
Under the bridge
Untouched by lies, greed, deception
Free from boils,
He sleeps well
As men and woman plunge into the watery depths above him
Under the bridge, you cannot jump.
Under the bridge, you can only climb
Is it such a wonder this man chooses not to?





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