One arm bandit, spinning wheel
Cleaner of purses and wallets
Flashing lights, hungry machines
With many growling stomachs
Burping unemotional sounds
What must be sated
What hole filled
What desire quenched
Driven like moths to light
Like lemmings to the sea
Like gulls to ships
Machines that must be fed
Entranced ones bringing nourishment and being nourished
Never ending cycle
Needs meeting needs
August 20,2013
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem