PARISIAN SUBURB II

PARIS SUBURBII

Red pulse of light, she is not bound by this urban fairground. Paris seems a long way from this forlorn place. She knows that the future offers her hope but the scattered dreams of Parisian Suburb are not hers to own.

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PUNK MARILYN

PUNK MARILYN

Pink smeared lip, scowl of neon attitude,

Peroxide blonde, with a peroxide mood.

Heads turn but she snaps them back with a sneer,

Punk Marilyn on the sidewalk with cheap warm beer.

Warhol would have loved her; she would have sent him packing.

NYC is her city; reflecting punk life, brutal but cracking.

 

 

 

THE ODEON GLITCH

There is something strange about The Odeon, the old cinema down in the Valley of the Stars. Flashing neon lights make this place glitch every time she walks by. She shivers as graffiti glows hard on the wall outside. A masked woman passes her, nodding shapeless head, a smile stretching the fabric. She feels another glitch come on; the energy is strange here. A Hitchcock wannabe poses outside with grey goose and a perfect pout. But the film directors are long gone and only faded neon lights up her face. Red glitch, yellow glitch, it is a monument to abandoned urban hope.

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AMOR AQUILA

LA DOLCE VITAsmall

Movie-star in love with golden aquila,

lay across ancient ruins like Roman goddess

with arched back and five star insecurities.

 

Rasping vespa screeched around ancient stones,

as she splashed porcelain in crystal clear fountains,

trying to be sultry native with hopeless words.

 

Don’t let her read the love poems of Catullus,

or she will be forever dreaming of thousands of kisses,

tortured by unrequited love and hooded traitors.

 

Hallucinating tattooed film stars and la dolce vita,

she was lost to the city and it swept her up,

along with all the other wannabe Italian starlets.

NYC NEON

Flashing hearts in this urban jungle, she keeps hers firmly under wraps. Cabs spin past in the burning summer heat; the warmth tempting her charcoal eyes to look beyond the sidewalk. Her love for this sprawling high rise playground is flashing in cold blue neon just outside her window. She will never leave here; this is her patch, her piece of the action. Flash, NYC neon, flash and keep her close to your warm concrete walls.

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PARISIAN SUBURB

High rise block in the urban sprawl of Parisian suburb. Flashes of yellow and green, heartbeat of bright red light. Grey blocks of monotone are not the plan for her, no, she has bigger plans than concrete jungle. Couture rags with a broken lining, Parisian Suburb is her home but it does not define her. She came from nothing but she will be something. The pulse urges through her veins like molten colour; bright flashes of pure brilliance. But she doesn’t see them. Yet. She will one day soon.

The day she leaves the Parisian Suburb for good.

 

PARIS I

ROPPONGI TAXI

Fast nights on these neon streets, she knew it would be this way. She falls out of mint green Tokyo taxi and adjusts her fluorescent attitude. Swaying in between glossy smiles and shining eyes, tequila shots to the brain. Pounding beats hit the Roppongi streets as she sparkles in-between glossy nightclubs. Roppongi nights are the best.

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