The City's Faces (An Ode to London)

Someone takes a heartbroken  bite alone, and cold.
Just minutes away, two relax in romantic opulence
Near to the ironic latest vintage,
The newest new.

Under the cities constellations,
Gazers and geezers in conversations
While a child grips her Mother's hand tighter
In the bitter cold of a quaint pathway
But still smiles at the brightness;
I see myself in her

Meanwhile, over the warmth of coffee and company
A man impresses his opposite,
And blows dust off what they'd forgotten;
I don't see myself in him

In the same evening close to historic beauty,
Lays a man
Wrapped up in what he can,
And what he can't do.
How do you sleep in the heart of the city?
Where the beat can wake you, or make you.
A group of newcomers walk past and catch a glance
And silently thank God for their own circumstance,
One mutters a prayer for him,
But they have to walk on now

Some streets away, in a row
A tailor jokes with his client
Off the cuff,
As he adjusts
His sleeve
To reveal
Just the right length of the gleaming white shirt

And away from this in a Kensington window,
A Grandmother smiles,
As a glimpse of an heiress reminds her
What she used to have.
But a small frame on the sill
Reminds her what she has, still.

At the bank of the Thames,
Two lovers
Newly bound
Admire the bridge
In its twilight glory
And stand longer,
Absorbing the blessing of one another

A world away now
In the same city,
Immigrant worker toils and grinds
With dirt on his hands,
And family on his mind.
As each push brings him closer
To his goal, and the edge.

Not too far apart,
Sits a pale faced intern
Lost in his hands
Wondering what he's doing there,
How he let go
And if there's still time

All photos from Google Images.

As he drags his soul from that chair to leave.
He had dreams of changing the world.

Now above its waters, in a plane,
Childlike joy upon her youthful face;
Will she make it?
She braces
What will she make of all these faces?

Lopsided

I'll hang on to the words you say
Remember that which you'll forget
It doesnt work both ways
I don't expect it to either
Just a numb sting i feel later
Remembering what you don't
Something i might look to
When the hue turns blue
You mean more to me
Than i mean to you
Its not unfair
I think at least
Just another cause for despair
Or just another easy tear
No malice, ill will aimed your way
Just something more to figure
Wrestle with and strangle today

Morning Blues

The passage of time
Simply, complex though
Propels us from innocence
To decisions of paramount importance.
From the beauty of a child's stare
To wrestling with ourselves
Tears of overbearing strain
Care remains for the fortunate
With surrounding structures
Firm foundations
And warm arrangements;
Is it hurt that could blind us to blessings?
I never thought much of it til now
But this hurt you see
Its what it does, thinking,
Like drinking
To an alcoholic
My lilac wine
Bringing back what I can
This tainted tonic
Forcibly fed to me
By my own hand,
Sweet and heady for a part of it
But the rest,
Well, you know what wine can do
Thought upon thought
And then thoughts about that
A drifting one about insanity
Who would have thought about that?

We, Us

Bus window
Others play
As I sit alone
Not a soul
We need one another
We work in groups, us.
Nina sings in my ear
In foreign French tongue
But I can guess at melancholy

I am not wicked,
I do try
I'll tell you frankly
In this ocean of people
Swimming with no school, or
A tight knit outfit
Is what I thought I'd have this winter
But I'll have to get by in this thin shirt