The London Verses No. 3

Don’t ever my mistake my silence for ignorance, my calmness for acceptance and my kindness for weakness’  Unknown


Iconoclastic in Ickenham

As the Bishop is punched straight

(‘This is what happens when corruption perpetuates hate’)

In the face

(‘And touches more than lace’)


Who’s the victim?

What’s the crime?

Some synonyms that rhyme with slime 

Disobedience was always sublime.


Diametrically opposed 

We stood on Platform 8

As the Duke decomposed 

Silent tyranny had militated 

A commuting carriage of newly debilitated. 


Purrs of satisfaction 

900sq foot sauna 

Why mourn her?

Belgravia fakers 

and Nunhead bakers

This Ealing feeling is misery


About as likely as

A Hampstead greasy spoon

Unknown communes

Featureless  warehouses  

Handmade rooms 

Parliament  Hill Fields in Bloom

When her womb resumed 

I presumed  new life 

No, 56 hours of strife 

Of waiting 

Teeth grating

A lone iphone 

In a lone corridor 

And then

There were four more.



2 thoughts on “The London Verses No. 3

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