Thursday 27 August 2009

flattened.

a demolition crew has moved in next door using
TNT and toothbrushes I said "hey, what you doing?"
but the foreman ignored me, implored his men to
restore the land to it's former glory.

IAN simpson's monolith
bringing paganism back to the people
handing mysticism to the masses.
some buildings round here will never need planning permission.

the plans from above belie the architects cheap lust for the occult;

broken pentagram avenues,
cement mixed with the sweat and shit
of two maidens from stratford-on-avon.
a loose cannon in planning tried to save em.

and now he's off with the stress.

so him in his name lets raise a glass
to that good old-fashioned dumb bravery.

AND STAND before the three graces in a hi-vis jacket
and choose your own incedental music.
and yawn in the face of the dawning of deficit.

from the mud something will continue to rise
I only exist to tell you which things and why.

COG#2

sunk down to the bottom of the motorway,
found a very expressive 'work of subways,
but still not a whiff of city breath.

city of glass will end up smashed up,
so throw the seeds down and stomp the ground until they grow,
drag the saplings up by the scruff of their necks.

all of our churches and temples and mosques;
we turned them into free museums.

all of our football grounds, loved and hated, so outdated;
converted into women's prisons.

come along and see what we can offer.
state-sponsored, backing-track, street-buskers.
pay a pilgrimage to one of our seven quartiers.

you can sit her down and earnestly express
biggest doesn't always equate to best.
but these london girls know better than that.

I stared across the river misery.
I thought I looked to new york cities.

this was the renaissance with no resistance.

c.o.g.c.o.g.c.o.g.c.o.g....

(and this quarter,
we're gonna hit our quota
of ten romes a day. ten romes a day. ten romes a day. ten romes a day.)