The Stroke of Midnight
Midnight in San Diego,
The lights from the city hovering like a cloud,
Over the riot-mongering crowd.
Gunfight in the streets of terror,
Here where the gangs and authorities dwell,
To issue forth security's death knell.
The human to human plague of hate,
Is here with the violent epidemic of shooting,
Is here with the hazardous outbreak of looting.
A flare and a spark like a feathered plume,
Over the grid that acts as a cage
For the endless wave of human rage.
And I, looking down, see no relief,
From the far off morning,
But instead only a warning.
Of a threat to come,
Of an southwest plot,
To foil the police and the SWAT.
Or maybe a threat of decapitated Liberty,
She who was killed by fear of the unknown,
And a death that was, in the end, home grown.
Nicholas-Landon
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