This old dark London of cobbled streets
where narrow allies hold many secrets
where muffin sellers barter their wares
and women of ill repute call seductively

In the flood lights of the Thames
that resist guidance of it's citazans
the sound of clattering hooves
reverberates around this decaying city

This city riving in pestilence
where beggar and thieves
hold an unholy alliance
in blood black as tar

This is where to find the Bow Street Boys
before the fields of Whitechaple
by bailey and justice
and the call of Bow Bells

My city of substance and commerce
my city of greed I will never understand
this city of poverty and fear
this city.


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris