Conrad Gamble

Writer | Director

All that Jazz

Sartorial ancestors of the preppy,
Could hear the twenties roar along that shore.
Moments of joy, who knows if happy?
Where battles rage in that time post-war.

Transparent foundations held the glass ceiling,
The coloured jazz so black and white.
More in an F. than in an evening,
Those liquor lakes, bound to ignite.

Gifting the rabble for her presence;
His ghostly heart wrapped in a bow.
Chained-up Daisy, author of her sentence.
That greener grass is tough to mow.

Lives and lovers judged and Nicked.
Mr Jay Gatsby was also known as.
For t’was themselves they had but tricked,
Leaving a blood red swirl… and all that jazz.