manicured wastelands without roots (20170221)

from the latin
sub “below, near”
and urbs (genitive urbis) “city”

so then, one might say
something beneath a city
growing
fungus like
virulent and in the dark
but really
what else grows in shadows
and in shit

just so many mushroom capped
spore spreaders without
bearing the weight of skyscrapers
and the dreams that built them
stone on stone

the murder rate is lower
but the suicide rate is higher
in spite of the lack of tall buildings

——

for
dVerse ~ Poets Pub
Poetics – suburb poetry

32 thoughts on “manicured wastelands without roots (20170221)

  1. Love the title and the image you have created of
    ‘just so many mushroom capped
    spore spreaders without
    bearing the weight of skyscrapers
    and the dreams that built them
    stone on stone’.

    1. I’ve never lived in a city so I don’t know if it’s better. It just seems like sometimes houses are like coffins and we’re reverse vampires.

      1. I wouldn’t say the city is better. More obvious, more transparent. Neither is natural like the countryside, or what’s left of it.

  2. Interesting information about the murder/suicide rate. Suburbs do appear to me to be “manicured wastelands”. The land becomes unproductive except for grass. Gardens might help to go in the opposite direction.

    1. I honestly just guessed at that, but from what I’ve read, it seems that the more you feel disconnected the more likely you are to try it, and the burbs seem to be pretty disconnected.

  3. Oh, such a striking piece, those closing lines really do make one think. I really love the free language of your poem, and the visceral imagery. I also like it how you were one of the few who tackled the darkness of Suburbia, rather than its light and good memories.

  4. I loved this, many thanks….especially the bit about growing like fungus…reminded me of the no-go zones…the places you would have walked through when you were in your twenties…but would avoid at all costs now.

  5. “Manicured wastelands”. Your descriptive phrase made me think of the words of the wise old native American, Chief Seattle, who said, “…and when your children’s children shall think themselves alone in the field, the store, the shop, upon the highway or in the silence of the woods, they will not be alone. In all the earth there is no place dedicated to solitude. At night, when the streets of your cities and villages shall be silent, and you think them deserted, they will throng with the returning hosts that once filled and still love this beautiful land.” There is so much we can learn from the native American’s reverence for Mother Earth.

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