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.
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AuthorJohn 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. Archives
March 2019
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