What was once a Moving image hidden in architectal halls
Which Became gainfully lost amongst telegraphs
And the detritus Of its Blown atrophied glass
Veins found In street parlour games
where doors once opened on a Autumn day
people turn away in gusts in street.
tents are raised and children once left amongst
hedgerows are found examing the offerings
they were traded in for fast food fields
and video induced epilepsy.
Now Seeding artificial programmed bear markets
Stripping the sleeves Of languid blame game
Back to its incubated motionless mind
As Static turnstiles Narrow and gather dust.
Like a late and cancelled ocean steam ride
under high wired disappearing views
that pass by like that quick sand.
Highway posters of a elephant stone carved from agate
that never forgot that the sea looks the same
Whether it’s called a Ocean or sea.
Our eyes can be so untrusting
Even when presented with time
and the aspirational reading whilst
reasoning the chemist’s laboratory list with
a dial up adviser With three coins
of digitalis blocked letter box and bound
Since the orange light of the greatest fire
the acorn is still there as is the future
A presence of a fully conscious youthful mind
Set to a wider eyed world cloaked and now
Revisting a decadent age of a dialed in sun
Called Latin longitude londinium.