When the city sleeps

When the city sleeps ,

in the limbo ,strange bodies

writhe and moan ,

searching for their shadows.

Lost echoes,tear each other  apart 

in the dew of yawning throats ,

as primal scream erupts...

The lampposts absolve the hanged

who lingers at the speakeasy tavern 

after having a last drink with a real rascal.

  Fear not, the fallen angel is a good guy !

 Watchman of dusk ,stirring 

the fire of your divine solitude...

So the pistolero steps out of the lullaby ,

setting out to preach the destine of the gentiles...

when the city sleeps ,we'd grab a cry baby Barbie 

that blends half-naked in the darkness,

disturbed minds, don't neglect your vesper  rituals...

Once the city sleeps,

darkness  awakens,

   attuned to the heavy burden of the unspoken .

     enlightened  midnight's Buddhas

overturning the  cosmic hourglass 

 that grants the imagination a  spark ...

  Somewhere a Metropolis lies ,

its  phosphorous eye stare fixed on the poet 

bowed above  a  scrawled parchment .

 And that weary trembling little flame 

tapping its last inspired telegraph

in the rapture of a endless  night ...