Troubled Minds

It's a sea of desperation;
a place of troubled minds --
folks searching for an answer
in an empty cask of wine.
Night comes and shadows follow
in a frail and lonely line
beneath the aching streetlights
down on Hollywood and Vine.

Figures wander dirty sidewalks
in a blurry, drunken haze;
through a flood of nameless faces
and a smear of nights and days.
There's a stench of sin and vice
throughout the blackened streets;
pairs of eyes pass in the darkness --
stray from any glance they meet.

A parade of wanton figures
lurch beneath the reddish lights,
fade into the smoky strip clubs
and consume the sultry sites.
Others crawl in desperation
from one dive into another
in a search for satisfaction
from a bottle or a lover.

The gutter fills with wasted hours,
lustful wants and broken dreams --
a flow of pale emaciation
trails along in sickly streams.
The weary streets begin to thin,
yet some figures stumble on
in an endless search for meaning
in the hours before the dawn.

©2005 Mike Bogle - All Rights Reserved