L.A. Nights – A Poem

The hum of a helicopter
grows by second hand tick.
A bright light shines down
a mile above the city.

The howl of a panda
roams the rain soaked streets.
More sin on the move
a dirty under belly unleashed.

Rome before the great fall.
Goths stand at the gate.
The poor claw at scraps,
dinner for the delightfully doomed.

Force fed mass produced meat,
meals are ready to eat.
Clowns and kings feast last
and laugh the loudest rattle.

Shaken by the triple X,
man feasts on life flow;
blood, sweat, ability, and tears.
Free humans live as slaves.