(Inspired by the corner of Eliza St. and Main St.)
The craning necks of yellow metal beasts,
Which loll and swing, then raise, prepared to strike,
Upon the concrete meat, and wood framed feast,
Of prey condemned to suffer sacrifice.
Like Low-fi, Sci-fi creature carnivores,
They masticate, through man-made edifice.
Facades collapse revealing vacant floors,
Exposed as they erode, and crack and twist,
And crumble. Joints undone, cement unfixed,
Glass shattered, like a waterfall of shards,
Beams split and splintered into jagged sticks,
As slaughter sounds the switching of the guard.
Pedestrians approve the violent change,
The maul of progress, praised, the past betrayed,
Enticed by sights of currency exchanged,
And scalpel strikes rewriting yesterday.
They cheer this tear-down triumph over time,
Evolving in divine trajectory,
While clouds of rubble dust obscure their eyes,
From wider sights of death and destiny
For all perceived advancement we enjoy,
This whitewash rapture yields persistent stains.
we act as nature's agents. We destroy,
At her own pleasure, within her domain,
To represent our own impermanence,
Removing our own trace from history,
With bricks forged frail and indeterminate,
We master worlds devoid of memory.
