Blue enchantment, starlight pallette

Nazi visions of underworld clowns

An evening of art, newborns, and profanity

The clown is still king.

The bubbling, squeaking sound rising

Shaking in a frantic situation

Blood swept under a script

I saw the fox and he saw me

Creatives of the underworld

Bleed out onto the page, voice rage

We sit in a kaleidoscopic wom...

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When the westerly winds and wet came storming

How come they said "It's global warming"?

On high ground in the snow and sleeting

Why so quick with "global heating"?

In January sixteen sixty one

Samuel Pepys (yes, that's the one)

Wrote of dusty lanes and flies

That seemed to fill the winter skies

No peep from Sam why flies were swarming

No word from him of global warming

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A silence fell upon the city,

contorted shadows twisting moonlight.

Stuttering in a speakeasy seemed so misplaced

bottles rattled flickering like Fedora feathers

in an unforgiving wind.

The wretched odour of deprivation

a stench that sticks and degrades ones existence.

Even by day this city remains a lifeless sap

and by night the vampires feast on thei...

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Another attempt at my paternal tongue.

Un altro tentativo di mia lingua paterna.

And though I beam with pride as I'm learning.

E anche se mi fascio con orgoglio, come sto imparando.

I'm aware that translated, the metre is wrong.

Sono consapevole del fatto che tradotto, lo strumento è sbagliato.

But this language pulsates to my yearning.

Ma questo linguaggio puls...

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