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Once upon a neon tainted moon, not too long since a peckish dusk
had gobbled up daylights delights, tucked away in a little hideaway
a wooer plies his ageless art, the rarest of rare precious choice of an
‘in the know’ lover, Creuse oysters with Sancerre wine, the perfect aphrodisiac?
Maybe…only time will tell and the night is yet young!
Outside in the street the fledgling weekend stretches its wings
taxi cabs, traffic jams and bothersome horns, exhausted siren calls
clichéd accordionists and likewise Marcel Marceau lookalikes
rustling, bustling, giggling pretty girls in pretty frocks anticipate
as do the boys with silly haircuts and passion killer cell phones
from a balcony above a red light Madam keeps a watchful eye on the goings on below
a glittering transvestite made up to the nines flaunts womanish charms
a work weary gendarme yawns, scratches his ear, checks his watch, his shift nearly over
a ‘look this way and that’ businessman an astute pace or two adrift
from his ‘carefree for now’ little black dress, high heeled mistress
a family man of more honourable pursuit holds his little girls pink woollen gloved hand
the obligatory soap box saviour preaches to ‘give him a wide berth’ walk-on-by theatregoers
For one and all a special haunt, a space to revel in and be free for just a while
From the shadows a composed and modified boyman nonchalantly fires
a few random rounds into an apocalyptic tableau of now shrieking humanity
affords himself a grin of fulfilment, then detonates the bomb in his pants
Once upon a neon tainted moon in The City of Love the marvel of make-believe no more



  1. Didn’t even want to read all about it in the news (my ‘news’feed in FB, that is). Too sad about what happened there in Paris. Just out of nowhere … then kaboom!

    1. Nearly mailed you for help Shehannemoore (given your infectious enthusiasm for and skills with writing) as to whether two Paris poems in a row was over-cooking the subject…just can’t let it go presently!

      1. My help? No way do you need my help . I don’t think it is overcooking though at all. IF you can’t let it go, go for it. Your work is tremendous whatever it is about and however much of it may be about the same thing. Anyway, there’s different alleys to explore with a subject. You will let it go when the time is right.

  2. I went to Sainsbury’s in the week, sidled up to the bakery counter and the old boy in front of me keeled over, vomited as he lay on the floor, turned purple and died. No fascistic psychopaths involved this time, yet still another example of how no future is a given.

  3. and a few more lights winked out and the world grew more sinister as the darkness gathered…… the light may come back eventually shaking and pale with horror…. 😦

    1. I like to think you are right…my youngest wrote a song back when just 16 re WW2, ‘The lights went out in Paris, When the Jacket boot came to town’ then lots of verses and chorus etc. finishing with ‘The lights came on in Paris, When the Jack boots left this place’. Twas a brilliant song he has done zilch with since…leaving his old dad most annoyed to this day!

    1. Very true yet these generally young’ish people have the added issue of being groomed into believing what the hierarchy puppeteers want them to believe…that is the curse of all religious fanatics whatever their chosen faith…sadly along the way out of the window goes compassion!

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