Suburbia
Sunday days , the empty streets conjure Gods of all feather Kings, Queens , Presidents and Ministers have built high altars that look like catafalques To preach and summon the sheep to the gates of their slaughterhouses Some are more demanding and require the lamb to fight for the right to die All dressed-up to […]
Morning ride on an anonymous train, leaving London Listening to the robotic announcements of mysterious future stations Like a way of the cross until a final destination to be born again A barber shop promotes its own miracles as we pass by, almost flying Traveling against the commuter tide, more or less running with scissors […]
Light seeps into the night sky in the wee hours of a new day Commuters sit silent encapsulated in their private bubbles The Underground moves too fast or too slow depending on the you Frozen astronauts waiting to be awakened at the end of the galactic ride They used to say the early bird gets […]
Ebbsfleet at last the train comes to a quick drop-off stop In the chaos of the industrial estates where trucks and machines sleep A fire is burning like the last of the wild living things The rediscovery of fire is the light of hope of a new era Civilization will be born again in the […]
The city spreads its railroads like tentacles deep into suburbia To catch fresh commuters in the morning and drag them to work To disgorge them exhausted and hollow on the platforms of evening From the Junction, London is like a T.S. Lowry painting, poetic but hopeless The blue collars have long been swallowed by the […]