Street-Walk for Poems

Strangers write poems that rhyme to the rich man's jingle
Throw a dime sayeth the crows in the black suits
Even the dead men shall merry, rise and mingle!

Spend the youth lusting for money wasting away the strength
Throw the money of pleasures of the world when the greys curl
Says the man on the top of the hill while shouts another
Why rot the time away when the blood and cheeks are still red!

Whose smoke is it sneaking into my mind and soul
Asketh the woman, yet another frowns while the busy lips burn
Buried into the glittering machines the busy boys run a virtual run
While they should be eating actual candies till they throw up

Yet another couple i wonder lost in their world
But wait, who cares if its a man or a woman,
Its the same? Lost in their romance while the world is split
A few staring in awe and disgust while a few dancing on the rainbows!

Where is the Jazz and where are the Blues?
Are they not the same as a intelligent machine challenging the creativity of man
Singing a perfect tune as instructed by the man?
Pitch perfect they call it, rain down the bills and listen to the machines fart
While the music rots in the closed rooms with one audience!

Smile away at the tension in the air
For who is it that can own your mind, maketh their own but you and you alone,
Let them in once, perverts, make it a brothel and sell you once and for all
Making money out of your work!

Oh machine Oh machine, take my work
Take my bread, take my peace, take my time
Take me away sings you!
Get nightmares of it ruling over you!
For the poems are plenty and so are the ways to live
If only you could strip yourself and try out the old outfit!