On a bridge of the old Roma
drawing some voluptuous aroma...
It's la dolce vita !
Anita unsetting my sens ,
night burning hot
in turbid waters ...
Stab me in a lascivious trance
serpent !
Roma blazes and admires
its sublime ashes !
'' What a great artist
and creative fury that dies
within me at the sound of my lyre !''
Caesar trampled by the sandal
of a false prophet
whose feet have a smell of eternity !
In front of the colosseum
passes by the glory of Ethiopia !
Slave's sap greets you Sparta !
But Roma could'nt care less
the pope born
from a vestal womb
blesses urbi and orbi ,
chanting a pretty lullaby !
I am looking for a madona
escaped from a master's canvas
to console me from all those
transgender chameleons ...
The duce's toga is moth-eaten .
Cavaliere you're hungover ...
Anita's body is but a memory .
Place of Spain the marble statues
are veiled ,and tourists
taste kebab ...
Allah o akbar !
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Author:
lorenz (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 19th, 2025 09:48
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 10
Offline)
Comments2
Lorenz what a most interesting mix in this poem all surrounding the setting of Rome. Religion, to art to women to location and back to God is great
Not easy to capture the colors and smells of this unique place that belongs only to its own history and every day stories !
An ironic, allusion-rich poem where Rome becomes a symbol of decline, beauty, and the blending of times and cultures.
The final line feels like a closing note of a new era — one that’s foreign to the Rome of the past.
Roma .Sacred prostitute or fallen virgin vestale .
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