Moving the detrimental litter from gardened streets
flagging down a black cabs from amongst
The gargoyles of Well hidden below a
street that made it out of planning
to Stargaze Over a now distant embers
Even with Country wide blackouts
Nothing can be seen.
whilst Staring down your sleeves
Asking are you really any wiser than me.
silver boots and rabbits feet
As you lose the map to a future
Fortunes lost on a Page you stroke.
Plain tree days of triangles
float across the airfield screen
papering over cracks of archaic ribs
taught to miss the Kiss and make up
With flashing lens and London ashes
a curtsied walk the southern mile.
With mice bow tied and dressed as men
listening to island on the dialed in again
As they build new model gods too old oratory
Whilst Building radio covers stuffed
Smoking stacks of tumbling plumes
Plumes of tumbling smoking stacks.