The City Men

The City men, the million run down trains;
They are a stampede of mechanized brains,
They are a mesh of dead cables,
They are shameless, ugly; empty thought bubbles.

Their grouped conscious, the mob’s unified mind
The zombie-like metal muscles, on the deadpan face
The one face, of the herd, when God was a little ungracious
Time and tide all Greek and Latin, as they jog the mice race

The city men, the masses, the target groups
The political parties, municipalities, activists,
The groups in the name of this God and that
The city men, the wise men
Their tried and tested methods,
In the name of this faith and that

They work as one team
As one unthinking brain
The city men, the run down trains
They are the mementos of the New Age

Individuals left their names on the sand of time
The city men leave an asymmetrical scar
On the unborn android, the one in some box-like womb
Life comes in full circle they say
But when the city men go in circles
And, they do it as one unified mind
I don’t know who can break the ear-splitting rhythm
Of the one voice humming in the symposium