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Arthur John Mar 2019
We met at a bar called Crossroads, just myself and I.
We didn't like each other much, yet we decided to buy.
Two glasses of whisky please, don't forget the paradox.
Which like our drinks, leaves us on the rocks.

The saloon doors swing slightly, only to reveal.
Memories of before, when we could both feel.
Two more whiskies please, and don't forget the paradox.
Which like our drinks, leaves us on the rocks.

The hour is now late and I like you even less.
Well you're an incoherent, introspective mess.
Two more whiskies please, and this'll be our last.
Let's share a toast, a toast to our past.

Two fire exits alight, we've a decision to make.
I can't see beyond the doors, this twisted sweepstake.
Crossroads is now closing, only open for tonight.
We left together bloodied, choosing the future in our own right.
Arthur John Nov 2018
With weary winds,
The clouds fall upon the sword of London.
Passing rain as shame,
Royalty, businessman and labourers scurry for cover.
Homesick colonial remnants,
Choked and tortured by the big smoke.
Whilst the River Thames,
Regurgitates the murdered, forgotten and foreign.
Despite all the lights to make sights so clear,
Ignorance breeds out of fear.
Arthur John Nov 2018
The wind as cold as memory.

The sun fleeing to it's grave.

Onlookers smile at it's ******.

It's all they crave.

Change.
Arthur John Nov 2018
My midnight sky,
how you've brought the beast out of me.
I'm lost in the curvature of your world,
only able to do what I am told.

My midnight sky,
how you've brought the best out of me.
Submerged in your moonlit pools questioning,
when will be my reckoning.

My midnight sky,
how society sleeps on your beauty.
When I saw the days either side of you,
I knew what we had was true.

— The End —