The sharp metallic, sing song of gridlocked traffic
fills our asthmatic lungs, across the topographic,
landscape, causing the songbird to lose its call
their voices unable to resonate across dismal photographic

Urban scape, once tree lined, time afterall
changes the shapes and sounds that creep and fall
killing nature with bollards and cranes in unrhythmical
views, powers that are dark, forbearing provide an ugly scrawl

across concrete leaden tower blocks apocalyptical
as the developers move in and demolish the mystical
woods of a bluebell carpet, strewn now with human remnants
sparrows nest with plastic bags becoming a victim of the political

nature of money over preserving, as doctors dish out antidepressants
we watch and wait hoping for better investments
that never seems to come, because you can’t stop progress
and there isn’t the recognition that these issues are now pressing.