What Have They Done To My View? Poem by C Richard Miles

I used to tend to check the time on Big Ben, which appeared
If I peered, using binoculars not my own, weak oculars
Without any alchemy, from my eighteenth-floor balcony
But I’m now shocked they’ve built another soulless office-block
Blocking my view, knocking the thought of clocking
That clock face forever: they’ve severed that endeavour
By their clever schemery to obliterate our scenery
And decimate the greenery with meanery in their keen hurry
To raise their crazy megaliths as their hazy ego lifts
In not-too-wise, so-called progress to festoon the skies
It’s no surprise that right before my eyes, these bright guys
Have erected monstrosities with selected pomposity
In an effort to delet our view of London’s streets and spires.
They’ve conspired to higher their vision with derision
At the history and mystery of metropolitan vistas, see.
These architects need better specs through which to look and not run amuck
And save our capital’s skyline from fading from our eyeline.
Ditch your drawing; I’m imploring: our city’s pretty as it is.