Hi, this is the first poem I've decided to share. I like to focus on modern day issues, and put them into sharp perspective and drastic viewpoints. Please leave feedback and I'll consider writing more.
The Concrete Jungle
Roses grew from the concrete
into bouquets left unpicked,
and so the sidewalks cracked
and a jungle grew from it's image.
What brought the Panthers to the jungle?
A jungle plagued of Poachers
who have protected it before there was need.
Perhaps an empty promise,
only seen as empty upon entry.
Still the Panthers can live,
as can the Poachers,
in the Jungle of Oppurunity,
but a bullet and claw
alone affect oppurunities' offerings.
Revolution is in the mouth of a panther,
and justice is in the hide the Poacher takes.
Corruption is in the stolen hide,
and rebellion is in the air of the mouth.
Never will the hunter and the prey
see eye to eye,
as the brush has grown too thick,
and the roads are cracked from growth.
Never will they settle
until the roses are picked.