Blue Danube, Of Course, Strauss Poem by RIC BASTASA

WHO does not know this kind of dance
Like hopping grasshoppers
And butterflies fluttering
Hovering and then
To a quick change
Jumping
Like joy overpowering you
From an overwhelming sorrow,

It can start as a mellow single note
Then comes the other notes
And a lot others joining
Ended into one bombastic
Show

Of women in gowns
Held by men in black suits
And they dance from one end
To the other of this
Dance floor

Who cannot imagine the flow
Of the river Danube
And of course
Who cannot tell
Strauss there all his hands
Bombastically beating
To the rhythm of
A grand waltz
A dance of royalty

For a while
We adopt the mind frames
Of kings and queens
And princes and princesses
To the dance of

Blue Danube
A royal river flowing
To all the hearts of those
Who view life

Alive, rich, abundant
Opulent, of expensive gowns
And silk suits and perfumes
And wine


Oh, it will be only for a night
The blue Danube is now turned
To real blue

The women have bruises
The men have strong fists
And the song perished
In that sickened mind.

You wake up,
The blue Danube
Is a polluted creek
And all the fish
There are already dead.

And who was strauss?

It is you, the complete
Manic-depressive
delusional
Disillusioned
citizen
Of this dancefloor
republic.