El Dorado

Slam poem I wrote about the endless search for happiness.

An El Dorado. A Shangri-La. We all have got one.

A beautiful golden city sitting in the midst of the sun.

Streets paved with silver, buildings made of gold,

Both encrusted with jewels of beauty untold

There are glaciers that give water, that’s crystal clear and pure.

Food comes out of the earth, left only to our hands to procure.

The natives there are charming and suave, but honest.

They have passion and humor, as well as being modest.

Although they’re primitive, they’re smart, witty, and wise

Though they’ve seen misery, they’re happy, you can see it in their eyes.

Every man in this city has a crown and is king,

And every king has a duty to obey wife and children.

It is a city lost in a jungle, just as lost as we are.

Without  compass, without maps, our sense of direction stems from stars.

(Now I am no astrologist, but I still try to do my best.

Though the only star I can follow is the one that sets in the west.)

We look for this city, and we look, and we look, and we look.

Some near mountains, others down by the river. I search for it in books.

I’ve searched for this city in books for quite some time,

But I’ve only found words, some of which that rhyme.

I’ve looked for it in bars, I’ve looked at the bottom of an empty glass.

I’ve found villages full of good-hearted people, but no gold. I’ll pass.

I looked out in the streets, I found a man begging for help.

I looked in a shrink’s office, but, d****t, I only found myself.

Leaving no stone unturned, I even looked in some pills.

Some bought, others stolen, another prescription to be filled.

In these I’ve found shadows of pleasures so true,

They whisper words of wisdom, but my journey wasn’t through.

As you can see, I’ve looked everywhere, I’ve even looked on the ceiling,

The only place I haven’t looked is within another human being.

I know that’s where “true” treasure lies, but please don’t rush me yet.

For that kind of expedition, I still don’t have the right equipment.

But, please, don’t start thinking my story has no end.

I did finally find some gold. It was in the back of a 7/11.

It was right there, between some Funyons and a bottle of Dr. Pepper.

I grabbed it, it was the last one. Things couldn’t have been better.

I went up to the register, paid and went out in street.

I lit myself a cigarette and threw away the receipt.

I finally arrived home, within me, and inextinguishable fire.

‘Twas only then that I noticed my gold had expired.

God f*****g damn it.

Indeed, what I thought was pure gold was just some yellow cement.

And worst still, I couldn’t believe that’s where all my money had went.

But let this be a lesson to those who find gold so alluring,

If you think you actually might’ve found your El Dorado downtown,

Chances are good that you’re still looking.

Author's Note

I know there are some awkward moments in this, I can feel them, but I'm not sure where they are specifically. I'd appreciate it if you could point them out.