Friday, November 19, 2010

vie nocturne

Dear Professor Bonagura                                                                                                             11/3/10
The 25 cent peep shows and the creeps come out of the shadows
And the addicts live in the cracks; the crack-heads pick up the rocks,
And their pockets are full of ashes
The pigeons soil the streets
The spirits spill on the streets.  
All the queers come alive, in an Oscar Wilde afterlife
And look for solace in an ever distant world
I bow before the drag queens, who in the moonlight wear their sunscreen
As my breathe crystallizes in the cold
On these streets, where dreams are bought and sold
And souls are traded for a piece of flesh
I’ve read between the lines and I’ve seen the lies of false prophets
And the holes that fill the empty spaces
 And the thieves drop their nets as the bookies place their bets
On the lonely, dying dream
Another primadonna shot on the scene
Another premature coffin
Another sacrifice to the omnivorous beast
And in the underground the band plays
And in the hall the demons dance
On these streets where blood stains fill up the empty glass
The city is like a broken crown that shines, like an immortal god that dies 
I’ve shared the wealth of paupers and I’ve seen the poverty in the coffers of kings
These are a few of the things that pull at my heartstrings and the angels play my life like a lonely harp.  

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