Bay Area Moon

I tuned into the

quiet melancholy played

in a string quartet of

cacophony

     

      with tuneless hums of

            air unconditioners

            rhythmic roars of

            fire engines

            monotonic sirens of

            digitized clockwork

      to a backdrop of polygonal

            smoke

The city slumbered,

dead to the night

that’s alive with the

sinister lullibi of

dim streetlights

as the unspoken alibi for

broken justice rolled by

And parasites thrived

            upon the

Choleric fears

Chronic tears churned by

chromatic gears of

heartless disassociation

Whilst

We stumble along without shepherds

When the leaders are sheep

Only bards who record history

Under stars that never sleep.