Poetry / Chicago

I’m waiting for the plane that cuts thru sky with pure percision
          Toward the human suffering enclosed in towers of iron,
     Cages of red brick and vinyl, asphalt and wood
     Shop windows and phone booths
          Devestated by explosive waves of pure oxygen
               Channeled into urban tunnels running
          In every conveivable direction
     The home of miserable meat eating faces eagerly awaiting
     The sight of my unpleasant face
          Where I will be locked in the prison of my self
I can’t wait for the plane that will take me back to the beginning

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Reviews

December 28, 2005

SelfishEndeavor

No. of Reviews	Overall Quality	Comment Followup
20	66.7% (9 votes)	38.5%

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Age	Gender	Location	Last Login
26			September 08

SelfishEndeavor reviewed Version 1 - Read 100%% of the Item

So Jhe- going to chigago to visit the folks, doesnt seem too happy, wonder if you struggled with iron towers or towers of iron. towers of iron has a more poetic feel to it, i suppose that it would have its place in a poem, as iron towers may be used to describe the events in a story of visiting the folks. You have a few mispelled, but so do i , my grammaratrocious. I ran into some tunnels in Philly, i believe you describe them accurately. very nice!