city of sorrow

city of sorrow poem by steven james humphreys

should have moved out of this lousy crappy city

this city of sorrow

a long time ago while I was young and stupid

but you see I got involved with these women who blocked my progress

and I was always a weak man who did

what they wanted to please them

and all the money I ever

earned grew wings and

flew away with them when

they walked…

now look at me



little hair


shriveled up

and wrinkled

all used up

and blown away here and there scattered

like scraps of paper in the smoggy wind

got the life sucked right out of me

got my manhood sucked right out of me

such a shallow empty man…

even though I didn’t do it my way

can’t exactly say that I didn’t

always hated L A and its rat race

always felt I needed to get out on a Friday night

and join all those stupid people in the bars

and get

‘stupefied’ just like them

and I did get my ‘supidification’ certificate

I earned it

the hard way

gallons and gallons of booze

all that useless information packed in my brain I remembered until

I took that final exam then forgot it all for eternity

there’s my college diploma nailed to the wall above my desk

I look at it when I sit down to type wondering what it did for me

it did get me a lifetime soul killing job as a slave and robot

now look at me

I’m stuck in this cesspool of a city

of my own choosing living in a way that’s foreign

to my very soul

and time’s running out

never minded isolation and solitude

my world I invented in myself was very entertaining

I am my best TV show and documentary

country bumpkin and redneck at heart

who likes writing

how I see it

it’s entirely for my own sanity you know

I don’t like concrete

never did

doesn’t have a soul

well it does

a very evil but empty one

there are those who love this city

crummy lack luster city full of drunken happy and unhappy fools

I like living things like trees

not a dead headed city

that covered up a desert from blooming

can’t even see the ocean from the top floor of a skyscraper


black top

lazy city workers leaning on their shovels

glass windows


heart attack hamburgers and fries

don’t care about paintings of nature

in the gallery

like to see the birds flying around

don’t care if they poop on me

I am

feeling proud

wearing my ‘red’ hat

with bird poop on its brim

I roam around

doing this

and doing that

spinning my wheels

in the city dust

and I’ve moved away

between Georgia inside my mind

and the Arizona desert cactus sublime

and my old body stays put

in this filthy politically correct city of mine.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s