So, I came across some old old stuff that I wrote a long long time ago. This set is all focused on Felix Youssoupov, a prince from imperial Russia. You might want to check wikipedia for some background info to understand it a little better. but here we go.... (and please remember, this stuff is very old) (and also remember, if you look into Youssoupov at all, that there are many variation on the spelling of his name, including, but not limited to: yusupof, yusupov, yusoupov,youssoupof, etc) A brief intro can be found here. And I actually have the book mentioned by Greg King and it's wonderful! You should pick it up!
Blue, but aren't all dripping fountains?
St. Petersburg wore a crown, wore a frown
and dying autumn leaves were its hands.
Discarded Roman numerals, I wish.
Youssoupovian beauty at its brightest,
Seducing a fascist next year at this time.
it takes a pretty little prince like you
not for national glory
but to finally feel a big, strong man gasping in your arms.
As if all the rouge in the world could ever
put the glimmer back in your eyes
(as if you'll ever be half the man
you dreamt of seducing)
the tourists will line up for miles
just to see the cellar
in Youssoupov Palace
on the Moika Canal.
They smuggle in cameras
and touch everything --
hoping to absorb some historical essence.
They look around
and they are unimpressed.
After all, the blood was mopped up decades ago,
and there is no chalk outline on the stiff concrete.
Youssoupov's Last Glance at Rasputin's Body over the Bridge on the River Neva
i wonder if anyone heard the splash
when your body slid through the ice
and into the neva river.
could the water have been cold
to a man whose breath was so hot,
whose strong hands could burn through
old money, just like that?
i watched you float to the top --
just beneath the solid blanket of ice.
did anyone see the smile you flashed at me
or the wink i offered in return?