The monster function ball

Welcome to the monster function ball,

Left past New Pimlico on the Lea,
In our 21st century rat-house
(For one year’s London budget paid fully).
A merry land of delight and doughy eyes
In Europe’s latest hemisphere,
Thrust up to public skies.

Tonight – the gilded flesh is reverse falling!
As gowned dolphins – and the Mastercard masque –
Redoubt in nature’s, nocturnal unfolding.
Pre-digital delicacies recast our superior prime
And swing replete, above
De-salvaged thresholds,
Where gonged worthies creak and shine.

Aye, it took some time to get here
Past the r’established outlands.
Because London’s legacy’s a gas!
The 100 metre finish line:
Forever in our hearts
For angels.
So hydrophobic now, this broken Britain.

Still there? I’ll take you by the hand between the stalls:
Here’s our London mayor,
So brave he defeated Jason for the fleece.
There’s Irvine Sellar
The man who built the Shard,
Singing: ‘shardfox homage’
He’s such a card.

To the right, Lady Brooks resurrected against Medusa,
Monsieur Breivik’s reprogrammed mime
And a fresh faced Blair40,000 (thought to be asinine).
London refound its feet, alright,
As the world’s wealthy forsook walking
And everyday since we’ve been getting stronger.

Homo sapiens, we’re nearly there yet!
Only 20 per cent in prison.
Yes, total law enforcement proved a tad destructive
So last summer we armisticed the dyslexics –
Hence the creative underclass…
Don’t you love the smell of plus fair justice?

It’s Forty years back to the race
When nails grew sparking

For the gun’s blast 

And shop worn trivialities turned holy
Between the Volkswagened Sabbath chat
Of London’s mortgaged class.

Visitors, are you happy?
We’ve learned so much from you
And each day refashioned ourselves less human,
Barring our sacred, infernal
Murderous flaw
To be one day reunited as cosmic flotsam.

Sport! Now I must rejoin the night
Leaving life in your hands more light.
Thanks, that’s very kind.
You’re welcome

But for me:
‘I don’t pay for water’ 

The Straw Bale Jubilee

Public neurotoxins

Oozed from every screen
‘Yes it was appropriate
To celebrate the Queen
But no-one was forced to’

Moms and pops
Cried for the girl
Who lived their dream

1.5 million thronged
The piss-streaked streets
Of London
In stone, silver, diamond,
Gold and straw

The broken Knights
Of thinking freedom
Sipped to salute

The Royal Family
Shape shifting across
The Universe
Since 1693

Reconstructing a dynasty
From mineral
And human
Fragmentary

Unfailing in its
Collective mind
Set on slaking thirst
For next world wines

As cold droplets of reality
Wiped away the fantasy
The United Kingdom
Shivered back to austerity
And secrecy

David Cameron (Living the dream)

At 7.15 pm
I unlock my bicycle 
On Horse Guards
And look up to see
A child-like purple octopus
With hands gut-wrenching
Anguish from its mind

Once held in every debating society’s dream

Too many cold eyes interrogate his wake
Captured
Behind a military-grade Jaguar screen
With Land Rover’d entourage
Signaling hopes mangled to the machine

The Birdcage Walk
Trailed into September trees
Remembering childhood autumns
Where neither of us
Will ever again be seen