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Lying on the rare
Psychedelic river named
Thames, I wept for life.

My mother called last
Night. She said Thames messes with
You, causes cancer.

She suffered from renal
Failure, after doing the same.
That is why I wept.

The cool, brown water
Washed over me. It rinsed my mind.
It tames me from me.

Revelation strikes
My heart, maybe I should leave
And never look back.
our spot.
been there,
many times.
alone and
with you.
it is special,
like us.
St Paul's.
mderdun Feb 17
St Paul stands
stiff as a stone
recovering from
centuries of sinful sorrow
buttocks bare
waiting next to an Itsu.
mderdun Feb 17
6:56PM
Waterloo Bridge/Southbank
stone cold shells
with staircases of
helter skelter;
the thames is high
with christmastide
Lancaster Place
6:58PM
Northern Poet Feb 14
Up north there's this thing called queuing
Down south it looks more like ******* looting
I can see the trouble brewing
Squeezing on the tube – can't even get my ******* shoe in
Some of these miserable ******* look like they need shooting
Stuck on the northern line back to Tooting
Seanathon Feb 8
Did you know?

That those shimmering shining reflective lines
Are from the deepest puddles man has yet to know?

And yet we call them ghosts
Out of limelight fear
Not of London made
But no less below

For beneath every living thing there is this
A shadow
A shadow
RH 78 Jan 30
Green strips upon copper coloured chimneys.

Slushy puddles refill as the single line traffic churns up choke inducing fumes.

Frilly octagon honey comb with their black on polka dot polyester.

Grey meets black amongst hustle and bustle broken by car toot and shoe shuffle.

Pavement lights shape shift as rumble follows rumble.

Green strips upon copper coloured chimneys.
Head down to central London.... evoke the spirits of the past.. urban life carries on no matter what the weather... we get our fair share of wet in these parts!
Emilia Jan 24
I love this filthy city with all of my ****** heart.

The sweltering summer streets (the buildings themselves sweat),
Where the 'cool' breeze is still thirty-four degrees,
And you can't walk a metre without needing an icy drink,
The sewage smell permeates through the pavement.

The bitterly cold winters that numb your lips (slur your words for you--drunken in love with her),
Frozen lakes and frosted branches in Regent's park,
I love her icy kiss more than I love myself--more than I have ever loved anything.

But I must leave, you need to know.

I can't stay, I'm sorry,
It will **** me.

She has her hands around my neck,
She strangles me with her embrace,
As she tells me--softly--how softly she loves me.

London, I'm sorry.

I was not built for the built environment,
My heart belongs in muddy fields under skies full of fresh air and clean sunsets,
I yearn for the sensation of dirt and leaves under bare feet.

How cruel,
To fall in love with a place where you don't belong.
not 2 b edgy but we had a trip into the city centre and on the way home i realised how much im gonna miss this place when i go to uni, london is a *******
ls Jan 23
The soil where I am supposed to grow
Can be found deep under concrete
Under layers of dirt and steel
Sheltered from the sun under skylines of glass
The fertile earth lays not at the surface
But saturated far below
That is where I will be planted
When I can find the strength to dig so deep
And I will root myself in place
And burrow back up through the earth
Breaking through cracks in the sidewalk
A tiny sprout of life that will flourish
Into a seemingly beautiful accident
And become too striking and too mighty
To destroy
The natural phenomenon among skyscrapers
Oskar Erikson Jan 22
There I daydreamed,
of melting in the snow
with the thought of you
thawing me free.
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