London, Winter Poem by Luke Davies
London, Winter
Pass unseen through a godforsaken floodplain,
city of treachery, siege and publishers.
No backbone here at all, nothing to fight,
or with. All sunken in unmerciful decay.
Every girl who ever rode a pony
prostrate in the stables. The one thing
that would save us, that would clatter
through the galaxies, a chariot perhaps, evaporates.
Frost rime blackened on the ponds is left.
The ducks and swans have lice enough
for all of us. The publicists eat Spam;
manners holds the rest of it together.
coming from just outside london made me squirm... i think you nailed the negative side perfectly...tyvm
Great write, thank you for share, also true. Such are the great cities poluted by money's sour bitter putrid smell. As for the publicists, hahaha let them eat.. whatever they want, the smart ones would not spend a dime or one second of a precious time, why, when they can feed their souls with delicacies of own choice, for as long as hopefully we have the internet for free.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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12/12/2024 5:06:31 AM # 1.0.0
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