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Faustian City Blues
Faustian City Blues
The neon dancers are framed
In the purple glow of harlequins
In the court of autumn kings
Sitting on barstool thrones
Whose greying crowns
Are the color of pigeons perched on powerlines
Like angels gazing down ruefully
From smoky bourbon eyes
When even ghosts of the Storyville Night
Cry under sheets stained in the salty brine
Of love gone wrong on a Faustian mattress
For the rose of yesteryear
The neon dancers are framed
In the purple glow of harlequins
In the court of autumn kings
Sitting on barstool thrones
Whose greying crowns
Are the color of pigeons perched on powerlines
Like angels gazing down ruefully
From smoky bourbon eyes
When even ghosts of the Storyville Night
Cry under sheets stained in the salty brine
Of love gone wrong on a Faustian mattress
For the rose of yesteryear
Published 18th Feb 2025
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