From the home counties to the Red Wall,
Cornish riviera ,Teesside marina
the accession should be destroyed
given way to rabbits
At Centrepoint broke by downdraft
where the fountains were removed, gone underground
The Concrete Society
brand engagement platforms annulling
basking spots in the Outernet
incopads gauze Tricorn blood
makes no noise Paco Rabanne 1 Million
like a walk-in billboard JumboLand
Air Conditioned Nightmare,, washed in bleach
I ate your withered tie in the cloakroom
with Amarone & vetched Gillespies
poured poppies down my briefs
at the Naval & Military Club
Long Bar sangfroid
bombed transmetropolitan
Pink Gin runs out my mouth welt
unforgiven this blood cities shoulder,
deathdown a bed in evening light
wended my cotched head
on henbanes stretching to the tree-lines,
British Transport Police Mosaic
cerulean Amytheus, cuts vitrified ceramic
all gripping nerve in city quarter peal
descends in empty Quaver packets
of Bloomberg’s pantry
lorn name quiltpoison in RP
the catarrh gilet navy
on Moorfields, & Sixtus Dominic Boniface
would hold the annual coconuts shy
on the bowls pitch all would be burning
the European Maritime Safety Agency manifesto
proud as Judges.
Pisssunk loitering air
like an ancient corner
parsed of national jeremiads
ghost-catching spectres
& occult thieves at the premises
of the Federationist League
in a fugue state the greater & emptier lease
compresses regeneration scheme
to our stolen municipal chairs
where am I to curse at the light?
in the blanched retains of feeling
living rake thin on low resolution mirrors
access thresholds injured slow curdle
wet-winged brooding on bin-bags
starlings of newly widened
centre arch pavement & City Roads
its agoraphobia, forged out
the inmost epistle flax,
watch as they start
carving up the Ossulton Estate
helix crick shaped,
the function room into flats
275 tonnes of Westmorland Green slate
painted bloodred
grinders Britannia Unchained,
& it’s doublemeant decayed
ridges Rent-of-Ability
near Albion Gates
in memory of dry rot
‘why’d you keep here?
knelt at the curb &
how much mental destruction
is enough?
how much is nothing scrubbed ?
it’s panning rub of bad praxis
it’s faux sense
of militant justice.
