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Updated on April 26, 2010




London is the sermon

That no one will hear,

Nobody cares.

Time folds in on itself

Under the force of its own speed.

Remember the fall after your summer of love

And invincible life.

It was the hallowed streets of this town

That convoyed you through

Its every social shindig,

Every shimmering soiree.

It was the legendary landmarks

Of this glittering metropolis

That welcomed you at every corner

Of every street.

It was this city of flashing gold

That cut the cracks in your teeth,

That lit the tracks of your feet

Out of the shadowed town of your birth.

There you were,

Finally alive.

After twenty moribund years of inertia,

You burst into life,

The air heavy with magic spores.

You were fallow no more,

Sallow no more.

Flanked by family and friends convivial,

The past was immaterial.

Your part was finally congenial

To your place.

You were misdisplaced,

Uninfutile, uninfertile,

Dedispossessed, disunrequited

Death undone and unblighted

After all.

All those people that abused you,

All those words that bruised you

Were no more.

This town didn’t care

For the ghosts of your derelict past.

It nestled you in its steel wings,

Asphalt beak and concrete claw

And gave you the wings

With which to flee.

You were wax and feather graced,

Aquiline and proud faced,

You were free. 


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