The London Verses No.2

Is Anthropology anything more than mere, sterile euphemism for a wider iceberg of never ending fetishism and fascination for everything around us? Well, probably. I choose to disagree (quelle surprise).

The London Verses No.  2 

I recognise BPS doesn't feature in this poem however, I had to include it sometime.

The Beefeaters’ late

And someone’s preaching hate

On Speaker’s Corner

(His truth)

Hendon Ruth

As the Hearse pull away

As the armchair yellows and frays

Parking tickets and Private Police

                         In Pimlico  

(Though not alone)

Dystopia & Co.

Try as we might to righteously resist

An inexorable failure to cease and desist

 

Laughter in the face of fear

Oh, another adapted Lear

Disappears without a tear.

 

Paradise lost

Then found

On the Northern Line

Heading Southbound

 

Sliding doors

A desire for something more

Than toe-to-toe

Shoulder-to-shoulder

Something you wish you told her?

 

Do City cocks sleep alone?

 As Swarovski pendulums rock

(Forgotten failures in Enfield Lock)

In peppermint penthouses of present

 

The distant cacophony of cafes and bars

 Hexagonal headlights and shimmers of cars

And drones of manufactured ‘decay’

And of police sirens far away…

Move further away.

 

 

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