the cultural quarter pt 2

 

 

The corners of the cultural quarter

Are bursting like tar soaked lungs.

Haemorrhaging empty fag packets

Lay strewn in rain washed streets.

 

Blind alleys refusing to be hidden

Cry for my attention like new born babes.

Streets saturate with busy footsteps

I leave quickly as to not leave my own.

 

Rain pours down in mid-summer

Hits hot tarmac, vapours soar

Evaporates into muggy air;

Mist appears on plate glass windows,

Moisture thickens like broth

Dilutes between pockets of polluted air;

 

Bleeding sirens echo like old memories

A fifty pence piece glistens like a jewel

On wetted slabs; I feel threatened by

Memories of my childhood

Buried like earth beneath sodden green leaves.

 

Cell phone chimes cut through the airwaves

Like sharpened knives through a cellophane membrane;

Women dressed in sarees and burkas embrace each other

Their bodies weave and fuse together like living cells.

 

Power dressed business men press hard flesh upon flesh

Dark grey and black suits silhouette against white washed archaic walls;

Silver batoned like railings meander like sleek, skinned snakes,

Their aim to Protect the unassuming

From metal monsters that curb our paths.

 

Seated side by side like sewing machine operatives

Late night bars and tenement buildings

Fight for pride of place.

Fag butts lie scattered like confetti in gutters,

Acid rain bleaches the tarmac, cascading down drain slats

Into secret river caves;

 

The church stands alone and is crumbling,

Holding names of an ancient past;

Unattended graves of dead men and president lie speechless;

Above are snarling oaks.

 

Gargoyles loom and threaten

Lonesome pedestrians,

Passing through the winding path to a place unknown;

 

Secular hall busy’s its self with art,

Metaphorical proses and rhetorical speeches

The face of Thomas Paine breaks contours

On a stone brushed wall.

 

His eyes blank, expressionless, like bare canvas,

Pours over the cities sidewalks and busying roads;

Watching and still waiting for equality and chivalry,

Warning the foot loose and fancy free,

Fighting for equal pay and racial harmony;

 

His age of reason reasoning

The plight of mankind and climate change;

The U.S have Benjamin franklin and the dollar.

We have rule Britannia and Simon Cowell.

 

In streets like these, we die like men with no vision

Or soar like eagles or transfigured saints.

Or hope of a brighter future

Drowned out by futilities strain;

and corporate lies.