What voice does this filthy city speak in?
That newly evolved, mutant patois?
The numerated text speak pidgin?

That vowel shifted Dulwich la de da?
Is the Thames’s flow its chopped up breath,
consonanted on toothy towers?

Is this the song that lures whales to their death?
And chirpsy, effervescent graduates
in search of Bow Bell heralded success,

who find themelves heading out (not backwards!)
to catchment trawl a good school for their sprogs?
Who wakes to wind turbines, their swishing blades

displacing dream roars from Walthamstow Dogs?
Its none of those that say they speak for London,
the corporate radio rotation pop songs.

Is it the Bedlam moan of those undone
by its machinations? Is it the prate
of garalous bankers, pissed up on wine?

The old firm rivalries? Perenial riots?
The dogs home chorus? Blackberry ring?
Camden kerrangs? Alkie anthem? Zealots?

Whistles? Whispers? Pauses? Echos? Bang?


1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. peter litton
    Feb 15, 2012 @ 01:33:51

    When I read the poetry from your sonnet series and then compare it with this, the change a year can make is breathtaking. I’m trying to think of a word to describe the way this poem develops. How about…exciting. The last two stanzas and the couplet seem to fizz, as if the words were tumbling on to the paper.


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