on an overpass over i-95

[klatch]

I turn my head;
it's half red
a band of light
half white

they are eyes?
it's what i'm told
but where lies
their souls?

oh those whites
they are bright
oh how eager
to be nearer
to me
but
what do they see
I do not see?

To what do they aspire?
lurching through that black mire
what do they disguise?
what do they connive?
how do they survive?
o how are they alive?
how are they alive?
are,
are they hoary wise?
or orbs simply wide
with fear
of whats near
and 'neath me

the reds instead
are red from tears shed
beaten deflated souls
with muddled tired goals
in petty little shoals
and (ofcourse) through more more tolls

i cant grasp this that i cannot see
out of my sight (which is all that's real to me)
just
-- just like whatever lies beneath me

[hillwalker]

The word 'muddled' pretty much summed this up for me. The rhyme took over and dragged this poem off to oblivion.

I'm guessing (?) it was written by someone watching the traffic passing by below him from an overpass - hence the reds and whites. And in theory one could come up with an engaging piece - an observer watching the world passing by in a blur and wondering what goes through the minds as they go on their way.

But I found it very difficult to focus on each individual point you were trying to make because they were little more than lists of lines that rhymed.
My suggestion - trim this down drastically, tighten it up to concentrate on a few key elements - and don't be a slave to rhyme.

h