We're in a city taking selfies
Where people murdered for laughs
Listening to opera in the ruins of a castle
Modestly described as baths
We're in a city shopping on streets
Where the knuckles of history punch
Emperors were stabbed nearby
Where we had an over-priced lunch
We're in a city crossing streets
Where people drive like they're trying to crash
And warnings of terrorism overshadow
The fact we're running out of cash.
John Bleasdale is a writer. His work has appeared in The Guardian, The Independent, Il Manifesto, as well as CineVue.Com and theStudioExec.com. He has also written a number of plays, screenplays and novels.