April 9, 2012
By RoseMonster GOLD, Plainville, Connecticut
RoseMonster GOLD, Plainville, Connecticut
12 articles 0 photos 7 comments

I fear the suburbs
And what they hide
In gridline streets
Too-straight streets
Picket fences
White houses
And white faces
That stare too hard from the windows
The children are all alive
But the trees are dead
Birds chirp
Upon their fossilized limbs
Like fingers of gray plastic
Children laugh
Sprinklers chatter
And splash
But none can hear him
In one of those houses
That all look the same
A small piece of heaven
Comes crashing down from the sky
The angels are burning
In the suburbs
He faces the emptiness
Boys so young cannot begin to comprehend
Utter isolation
Nor can men
Live in stagnant Limbo
And not know a little madness
Who can help
But tremble a little
When their world becomes defined
In an everlasting moment
Of silent

The author's comments:
This is a poem I wrote about the way I feel about the suburbs (think the 50's) after watching "The Tree of Life". [Note: the lack of punctuation is intentional.]

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