My Colourless City of Oz

By Immanuel Stephen Maben

Big buildings,

Loads of sky scrapers.

Busy streets,

Countless walking strangers.

All in their own world,

Gazing at their screens,

Like they are gold.

An old lady tries to cross,

The few who notice,

Thinks it's her loss.

People have gone cold

All they want is to fill,

Their pockets with the folds.

People enslaved by time.

Working like slaves

Till their clocks hit the final chime.

Leaving the magical Land of Oz

To the city of black and white,

Searching for jobs,

And work till they are grossed.

Finally my sweet sweet home

Coming back to you,

I sure do feel real Shalom.

The trees, the birds

The cattle, the herd

The bees, the air.

Wind flowing through my hair.

The sound of the gushing river

Oh with joy I shiver.

Nature truly at its best,

To make you feel alive with zest.

But oh to my dismay

A new sky scraper

Scraping the sky

Blocking the sun rays.

To feel guilt in my sadness

My sweet home now turning to the city of Kansas

My magical city of oz.

Is definitely going to close.

Is this good or is it bad I don't know.

But all I know is my sweet home is going away in many blows.

By Immanuel Stephen Maben