There's nothing left of me here,
only the ghosts appear,
they've barricaded themselves
in the abandoned buildings,
I see them peeking out.
The cities voices, familiar, shout,
even as they whisper.
There's nothing left of me here
or my ears would blister,
like they used to.
It used to be: find today's food for all,
then dinner from the bins
and tonight squatting the old school.
Being homeless is a full time job,
ruled by desperation and The Law of Sod.
From the street, the city stands naked,
free of it's dazzling attire.
Underneath all the buildings,
the foundations of history,
is the same boggy mire
(from which it sprang)
I wrote poems on these pavements,
some, simply, political statements, in colour,
but there's nothing left of me here,
the slabs have all faded, once again grey,
and this is all I have to say:
The city didn't notice that I've been missing,
it was lost in it's lovers arms, kissing,
a Time Immemorial embrace;
oranges & lemons
and the finest of lace,
a commercial covenant
with The Man With No Face.
The entire space was built
on the idea of exploitation.
There's nothing left of me here,
I left along the road of alienation.
A bankers brogues tread on beggars hands;
actually, this here is private land,
property of The City of London.
Well, I'm ******* gone, son.
There's nothing left of me here,
I'm done.
trying to sketch out the last years of my life in a series of poems. this one is about coming back to London, home of 24 years, and, gradually, letting go of all the pain that only leaving allowed me to do. The last lines, 'well, i'm ******* gone, son...' this is a londoners response, meant to show that, however far you go, something always remains, like the ghosts in the windows...
side note: the city of london (not part of the UK and answerable only to the queen, with a differnt voting system and tax system, giving nothing to public coffers) exists because it came from Time Immemorial. This means before written records of Britain's modern civilisation. Basically, 'we've always been here, mate, so.. we were here first.' It's a shady part of the UK not in many of the guide books. The Mayor of The City of London (not to be confused with The Mayor of London) is the only other public figure, aside from the queen, who is permitted a golden carriage for official ceremonies. ******.