Mean Street Struggles
by Michael Doyle

The top tier of all artistry
Has the flow found in living free.
The struggle and hustle of the city
Has the habit of instilling its vibrancy

That grinds against the bone
In a way that makes each soul its own.
New York City cannot be seen differently.
Up and coming artists feel this reverently.

Two blocks away from mere survival
Is another perception that is its rival.
The opportunities are no longer tribal
And it pulls the survivors from the primeval.

No longer immigrants but a phase into more.
Yet, no one knows what exactly is in store.
As the second generation learns its other way,
Living as it does to fight yet another day.

The mean street struggles push and shove,
Changing the scenery to something closer to love.
Finding ideals that rise above the corruption
To bring the something greater than disruption.

The neighborhood has no empathy,
Demanding full price without any sympathy.
It knows it will always be there,
Longer after its visitors have forgotten to revere

So any taking is done at the fullest price
As it is for all the sum of sacrifice.
Cinema changes along with fragments of history.
It may be that this is the true mystery.

Life's soundtrack is all the buzz.
It's a sentimental memory of what was.
The city has very few quiet moments,
But the music of it takes away the torments.

There is much we learn from those before.
It is their ghosts that opened the door.
To what pass off as glimpses of imagination.
Without these, there will no no illumination.

(c) June 23, 2025   Michael Doyle
All Rights Reserved