Meh, Sonnets

I can do not gam articles. So uh, whatever, I was happy with these.

Gleam and Grit

At street level there’s nought but gleam and grit,
From the gutter you feel the shadows flit
across your shoulders with a cold shiver,
lying across the drain under the sliver
of sunlight that dribbles off buildingtops,
pooling in the greasy runoff that stops
against the soaked cardboard and masking tape,
crumples the bruised bum bent all outta shape,
his face is swollen, tender and battered,
a man just like ‘them’ just further through life,
just back in town when he’d lost his wife
job house and kids, brutalised nightly by
the mob sharks and brokers, nothing hurts more
than to wake knowing he must face another.

Chairman of the Board

Quarters and dimes pool; filling the can,
Ego primping pity that befits a man
Of status power and suit, with a
6 figure salary and a 30th story house,
who’s toiled through meetings with seething spite,
in this city you hate your better man,
can’t be happy to sit on your hands,
can’t wait around and wait for relief
you work according to a central belief,
live fast, move fast, and never rest on your laurels,
raise your kids somewhere outta town,
dancing from city to house like a clown,
knowing deep down that you’re still just a joke,
for you’ve been trying to rest for as long as you’ve smoked.

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Sonnet 1 was done in about 40 minutes. Sonnet 2 in 10. They both have their appeal, but 1 is betterly made.

Because jw accosted me, I'ma post a proper article tomorrow. And I promise to only pull out my poems in a pinch, if I've really got guilt/no time to write at the mo'.