Death
corruption of the air
black angels
on the wing
circling buzzard like in
Santa Anna wind
Heat soaks skin
exhaust from 101
coats your throat in
burnt oil
while you strain to
see Griffith Park
No need to worry
about smoking
There is enough
in the valley to kill
even Superman's wife
White faces
live in colonies
on ridge line top
While the ethnics scour
bottom lands
working for
The Man
Their labels keep us separated
Latino
White
Asian
why not just
a man or woman?
Why not
just call us
human beings?
Rich art patrons have
$1,000.00 dollar lunches
telling of the
beaners or black persons
working for them
as they sit
in a palace
dedicated to man's
creativity
I love LA.
The biggest hooded
white sheet wearing
city I know
Where black winged angels
can be found perched
on top of malt liquor
billboards
Down in the barrio
down with Julio
in school yards
Generations
of a city's youth
have slain themselves
packed like rabbits in cages
Compton or York Blvd
are painted in sanguine
ribbons of hate
The city that teaches
its citizens to fear
their neighbor
Home of the liberal
who would never treat
their help badly
Who still drive
SUV's while complaining
about the cost of fuel
Or protest
deforestation
while carrying
paper signs
I love the City of Dead Angels.
-Fin-
DS Baker
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