Desperation on the East Side of Town

Angry masses flow through your streets like
New water rushing through a once-dry creek bed.
Decay of your social reform feeds the ravished machine
As it eats away at your columns of tradition.

Fear whistles through the alley like a death train approaching
As we cower in the shadow of chaos unfettered,
Glint of hope battles a belly full of dread. Listen to the
Void built on the absence of laughter and gaiety.

Old man on the corner some twenty years ago
Held reason in his voice and a book in his hand.
Prophecy come to light, but, perhaps skewed
From his righteous and somewhat venemous perceptions.

Rubble and ruin lie dormant in a prelude to nothing,
Bodies dot the neighborhood like a spattering of paint.
Will this be our demise or some long awaited triumph, I ask
As we rummage through the refuse for a bite of bread.