Monday, 23 February 2009

PWII is for Poetry Written In Italy

because public transport bores the shit out of me.

Old Italy

we blush
blistering under sol
blown by cold noon breeze
grasped by old italy's new embrace
of romance and poverty
and the train moves on
looks freely exchanged
with pretty girls
haughtily betraying their romeos...
bella, bella.
the train moves on
parasols and building sites
rise and blossom from the earth
all the way from pisa to firenze
with a quick-fire ciao-grazie
and the train moves on
another girl smiles
and the train moves on
longing for more
longing for amore
roman farms and lucchesi wharehouses blend seamlessly
as the train moves on
and on
and on.

Italy was not in the slightest way homosexual