Mill ennui begins by toxic draffs
soil burdened with arsenic & mercury
near the access point a large white marquee
underinking lauded codas & coiffed fingers
burnt plastic tetches off
remade this cloud
shrinking to some super-totem
inverted fascia running off teflon,
it’s faintly baited linchpin
burgundy bottles with regimental ties for wicks
the Molotov Prince of Darkness Astras speaks:
Moving forward as a beacon to the world,
the richness of the British character. Ergo.
Creative. Compassionate. Outward looking.
A triumph of confidence over cynicism,
boldness over blandness, excellence over mediocrity.
One harped, cupola withering blimp
settled at the mouth of the peninsula,
a vanished complex tangles
to dragging strays over shingle
what invented future means
in shining leaden water,
back under Enterprise Culture
its scrying glass extruding
deadlands,
the last Council-Operated High-Rise
contains within itself indemnified
& everyone is left on carcinogenic marshes
& what mild oath unrevoked
the Committee members haircut congealed in Tip-EX
& the Sun dances
just like in the moonlight
O & when that moon is big & bright
it’s a supernatural delight,
when everyone is dancing in the moonlight!
Molotov Astras people sized
& you go down with the building inside
you’re holding the bottle at its neck,
you chuck it hard at the window,
at the base Index Multiple Deprivations,
a regional quota breeds out vapour trails
Public Consultations Hedonic Pricing 'area-based' factors
& marching people to jobs with two witnesses
a task force courtesy call in reference
to your wellbeing,,
by pulling together data
from a common baseline, you
a common heart of what means-tested
peaks depart a private world, closing gaps
yours, a private cause & other indices waivering
molotovs the Final Report fealty chokes
hard indicators of change
as sorry is the hardest word
but you learn from your mistakes remember
the architecture of moonlit colonnades,
the custodial moonlit amphitheaters,
the moonlit night-club interiors
as disinterred by Edwin Lutyens
on old drugs & re-thought as a underground bungalow
& exit into anti-ligature moonlit prisons
with calico print on the walls
elbows in the topiary garden dancing
a low octane hallucination
around flight you can feel it
when that moon is big & bright
under plastic-clad buildings
on big sorry reams the stated aims
of TMO’s Client aspirations
cantilevered platforms
narrowing logarithmic scales
where you go to grow concrete,
as flashes of your behavioural map discrete
micro-billeted polymers that count as a skin
new entrepreneurials again
but the best picnics are on Agars Plough,
& how could you forget massive gazebos
& Moët out the proverbial bucket!
the tête-à-têtes in the garden;
shelters on the grouse moor,
a nice isocost in the eyrie
blood coursed through the night rain opposing
the broadfields beneath them
its private equity in brownfields
to cashflow cowabunga
there are perks in
chains of lead you can feel it
a life, strategic planning
I feel a certain pang inside my chest
see a hole as big as tenpence in the glass.
Names emerge undisclosed.
And the pain grows specifically apart ,
localised , around the heart,
or the stomach, or the lungs
curls to city point lights listless bullrings
‘at the heart of’ more police more green spaces
kettling a sky lounge
45th floor bar-kitchen:
Arrows with solid lines represent
the statistically significant paths,
and broken lines to show
the nonsignificant paths.
Explained in the Results Section, an innovative
affordable housing company tightens
its halogen light to snuff path
its model of n.b. no hope
no kindred place behind gates
a ramified lanyard,
a front desk company
finger filed red to business premises
all these unscathed plods in utero caning
the height of a crown
& how could love be a steel pergola?
