SEWER CITY

I

the town was stink
stinker than the sugar-
shit saturated Cipero
in crop-time
ever noticed how each town
has its own unique stench
maybe it’s the drains and sewers

II

the stagnant fish funk of the waterfront
had long been cleaned up
filthy funny-coloured ghetto drains
with floating plastic
now halfway clean
flowed lazy into the city
swamp-sulphur fumes and
black smoke from urban landfill
lined with rows of corbeaus
no longer billowed foul welcome
to Sewer City
the horrible salt fish factory fumes
no longer hung and clung like a cloak
choking the lungs and life out of the city
but the town still stank

III

it was still illegal to loiter or litter
but it was legal to live
on the streets of the city
to squat to lounge
to sleep to wake
to piss to defecate
on the city pavements
under the high rise buildings
and skyscrapers
any time of day or night
one has rights you know
like the right to thumb one’s nose
or any other dirty body
part at the right to human dignity

IV

a vagrant awoke
rubbed his rheumy eyes
calmly stepped out from the bedroom
of his cardboard condominium
spat and proudly exposed
his manhood
to the indifferent midday crowd

V

damn those rats are fat
almost as fat as the real rats
they live well on the leftovers
from garbage bins
and garbage heaps
rummaged by vagrants
and stray dogs

VI

the mayor
called in the pied piper
that was a failure
maybe the pied piper
was a cocaine piper
blowing on a brandy bottle
or zoosh pipe
instead of a flute pipe
maybe the mayor or the piper
was unsure whether
it was the rats the dogs
the corbeaus or the vagrants
to be removed
so all remained
after all who or what would
follow a fruity-toot flute
when there was so much pirate music
piping in the city streets all day and all night

VII

gradually a strange thing happened
one could no longer differentiate between
the rats
the corbeaus
the stray dogs
the vagrants and
the human beings

Copyright ©2009 by G. Newton V. Chance

OH MOTHER

Oh mother who worries and cares too much,
The child in me still craves your gentle touch,
That soothing touch that healed my injured knee,
Banished my fears and eased my misery.

Who can know agony of motherhood,
The ordeal, which with deep love, you withstood
And pushed and pushed against the gnawing pain
And bravely did it many times again

Or share your depth of anguish and despair,
Feel your children’s distress not knowing where,
With grim foreboding await the sad news
Which calls friends and family to the pews?

Who can know the inhumane ills you bear
Through love of fledgling stronger than your fear,
Domestic abuse silently endure;
For a true mother’s love there is no cure.

But who can experience a mother’s joy?
It is more priceless than precious alloy;
The boundless pleasure of love victorious,
The bubbling treasure of life vicarious.

She needs no justification or price,
No compensation for her sacrifice
And even when forced into fatherhood,
To catch, to kill and then to cook the food,

In her satisfaction to watch them grow
Resides, like rivers into ocean flow,
Pride in her bosom at her child’s success;
Was worth all of the pain she will confess.

Many days you went hungry and undone
With sleepless nights from the day I was born,
Oh mother, how can I repay you, for
Boundless love, I will owe you evermore.

Though there were times when, in my ignorance,
I thought that life was mine to take the chance
And felt stifled by your nagging concern,
In life’s fast lane I had to bruise to learn;

The years taught me the wisdom of the old,
Like Solomon’s temple inlaid with gold,
Was wrought with tribulation’s nuggets stored
Beginning with the love and fear of God.

To you it matters not what I have done –
Hurt at what I have or have not become,
Unconditional love always assured,
Your love is stronger, stronger than your word.

And Lord forbid that day of woe should come,
You pass on before me, forever gone,
I know I never could repay the cost
Or substitute that which I had and lost.

Copyright ©2001 by G. Newton V. Chance