deepundergroundpoetry.com
Prologue
I sat here, whiskey at arm’s length and a Marie in the holster. My time was coming and I knew it. I didn’t let it affect me though. Nothing affected me these days. I was too old and bitter to allow anything within this crooked city to get to me. A final sip of the whiskey and I was out for the count.
The next day was as cruel as the last. The city outside was a loud and obnoxious monster with cars spewing gasses and the sirens in the distance. Freedom was not an option in this city. Freedom had no existence.
The next day was as cruel as the last. The city outside was a loud and obnoxious monster with cars spewing gasses and the sirens in the distance. Freedom was not an option in this city. Freedom had no existence. Looking over this city from 21 stories up, all I could see was the beginning of another long and un-prosperous day. The rain fell like 'the clappers' and thunder began to grace us with its presence. It was six twenty five in the morning and the black clouds and ice rain made it look pitch midnight. I took a seat and continued to stare at a busy city that was on the verge of breaking itself apart. With a cigarette in one hand, and likewise, the trademark whiskey in the other, I began to think. I had too little time left, and I would be damned if I was going to live it all out here, in this office, in this godforsaken city. It was time to move on and let human nature run its course.
The most terrible thing about this "City of Life" is the lack of any free thought. Anyone to speak their mind would usually end up wearing a nice pair of concrete shoes and would be enjoying a relaxing dip in the city river. The police tend to be more crooked than a three legged donkeys and anyone to do with governing are on the constant take.
Can you feel it? Right there, the thrill of life, that tasteful thrill of freedom. There is no freedom in this town, just killers, corruption and greed. No. If its freedom you’re after, you have to know where to look, who to be. Home. Now there’s freedom. No corrupt, no overabundance of money, no mob. Just me, Marie and the freedom to live out my final days in peace. It’s a shame though, in this city, that kind of freedom is a capital offence in the eyes of ‘the controllers’. Because home is where I was first off, there was a problem that began to grow in my mind. A problem that started off small when I first arrived, but has now grown to fruition. The problem with freedom is, once you’ve lived through it, there’s no going back.
My mind is solid and has been made up. Today I go home. Today I returned to the land of freedom to live out my final days, a free man. But like all other decisions, this sudden phone call is probably going to change everything.
The next day was as cruel as the last. The city outside was a loud and obnoxious monster with cars spewing gasses and the sirens in the distance. Freedom was not an option in this city. Freedom had no existence.
The next day was as cruel as the last. The city outside was a loud and obnoxious monster with cars spewing gasses and the sirens in the distance. Freedom was not an option in this city. Freedom had no existence. Looking over this city from 21 stories up, all I could see was the beginning of another long and un-prosperous day. The rain fell like 'the clappers' and thunder began to grace us with its presence. It was six twenty five in the morning and the black clouds and ice rain made it look pitch midnight. I took a seat and continued to stare at a busy city that was on the verge of breaking itself apart. With a cigarette in one hand, and likewise, the trademark whiskey in the other, I began to think. I had too little time left, and I would be damned if I was going to live it all out here, in this office, in this godforsaken city. It was time to move on and let human nature run its course.
The most terrible thing about this "City of Life" is the lack of any free thought. Anyone to speak their mind would usually end up wearing a nice pair of concrete shoes and would be enjoying a relaxing dip in the city river. The police tend to be more crooked than a three legged donkeys and anyone to do with governing are on the constant take.
Can you feel it? Right there, the thrill of life, that tasteful thrill of freedom. There is no freedom in this town, just killers, corruption and greed. No. If its freedom you’re after, you have to know where to look, who to be. Home. Now there’s freedom. No corrupt, no overabundance of money, no mob. Just me, Marie and the freedom to live out my final days in peace. It’s a shame though, in this city, that kind of freedom is a capital offence in the eyes of ‘the controllers’. Because home is where I was first off, there was a problem that began to grow in my mind. A problem that started off small when I first arrived, but has now grown to fruition. The problem with freedom is, once you’ve lived through it, there’s no going back.
My mind is solid and has been made up. Today I go home. Today I returned to the land of freedom to live out my final days, a free man. But like all other decisions, this sudden phone call is probably going to change everything.
Published 24th Sep 2012
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