Money and rain belong together.
The weather itself is an index of the state of this world.
Bliss is cloudless, knows no weather.
There also comes a cloudless realm of perfect goods,
on which no money falls.
Walter Benjamin
Pope Leo XIII said
“as many people as possible should be encouraged
to become owners”. (…) In capitalist language,
we must make everyone a shareholder in the concern called
“Great Britain Limited”
Outside Langham Place
sans consentement
in Corsham stone the nuptials of
god & god the Stone beneath volutes
Justice 4 Fathers Spidermans
half suspended with a daughter’s guitar
‘In the Name of The Father’ by Bono,
the Trafalgar Groves, the Victory Footprint
Link sculpture with its panoramic viewfinder
in what kind of country is this,
class fatalised Bowellism the sick rose
winedrunk on a broadloom Pushkin floor
threshed my words red
held up by a friend
there are Steinways to follow
seraphs on Brooke street,
it's the colour
between thawed gurgles
that really matters
& London is the centre of wicker fence panels
its river territory is broken
the last firebreaks hanging
under Blackfriars Bridge
to starry rushes chainfated
what deposit slot rolled
my cobblestones glom faced,
outside Automatic Hydraulic
anti-terror bollards
in the event of a loss of power
non-sector chaperones
allow the ingress of cool air,
with warm air flowing out
through two tall vents
form wings that mirror each other,
public & private bokes all set to chrome
it’s underlight schisms humming
on Laws balustrade.Is this?
Asset Management Limited
shining sleeves scraped
from every pore & cost nothing
laid upon its roof burning day
into your eyes rising the stone of the plaza,
in every living sign public-space gurus
lock the doors in
Moët Hennessy Louis Vuitton rooms screening
Live Below The Line,
& what will you do Alfie Deyes
with the cadres of flashbacks,
reliving of the downside
of nostalgic austerity
for 20 minutes
teeth cleaned on tassel loafers
readily circling each crutch
you know you have to die for a rebirth?
Cauldron burning London's
collared demotic plinth of post-Blairism
now this is Bang at Sportcity
the Plateau, the Field, the Garden agenda
a gala of dystopian domes Logan's Run
& cement blocks empty man-creditors,
of my desire for the wrecking
in multi-use pause areas
lament frozen stars!
on the lips a Levelling Up, a song for rent
& village’s culture the economic pie,
everywhere & for everyone,
not re-slicing it about root & branch
Teesworks in Redcar, & sells it
these new clusters
will be our Fourth Industrial Revolution Foundries
vehicles in Sunderland headwinds
in the past spread fin through Freeports,
Enterprise Zones & the Super-deduction
weaving a thread for Investment Big Bang
wreath powered this small
& weak dreaming fields gutted
on the background to work
New Classical macroeconomics
New Classical tiny glass beads
new satin finish logscales
peerless white limestone
of chlorine ducts or some flaming urn
& no drinking water, a sabre of light
filigree lightness is anodyne
& as low as possible
over the tidal Thames
every child to thrive
these decoy vents feed you air,
off seed cathedrals & noon-marked
monocoques hollowed dusks
developments sequence producing
in the wreck of our anti-ferrules
White paper get scratched inside
the wet paper brain
Werkstatt from the swilling
‘ideas engine’ Stanhope PLC
a field of glass, windswept
lottery cash enhances existing settlements,
gladdens the eye &
lifts the heart in Milton Keynes
seeing futuristic housing prototypes
narrowing (Mission Nine)
explore a
National Landlord Register
at the Construction Expo
Five Angel Heads Comprise
the biosphere & how to die in it?
(Mission Ten) new County Deals
devolved administrations,
on the White Paper
sitting on the
laver of eclipsed arches
all human malevolence
is planned orange light
porphyry stone stand on the backs
it’s meaningless orange light
porphyry stone & the loggia curls quiet
out composite social bowels
typology bonded & elevated again,
cleaned spurriers to mercer yoke
& no passage for foot
in the shadow of the new Cathedral
the paying metronauts
‘I came here to swim
in the highest pool in Europe’
& they’ll be back again tomorrow
austerities plugging in the wren
bind a blue midnight tabulation
spitting concrete out
the drills,
the controlled explosions,
the corporation
Paternoster Square wedded nodes,
O diminutions & you eat them
in the Giant Needery
a warning amputated,
little britain with wards tested
gladi/haemophilia + binos
if it's the same kind
you twist into soft barriers
underneath evenings golden
hour draped in black velvet
above winged griffin ramps
monuments a ‘place-making representation’
a silver trowel depositing
the highest level of devolution
with a simplifed, long-term funding settlement
(Mission Twelve) of our anti-ferrules
the shallow end of Bullism
in your head Nomura
& Merrill Securities metals
King Charles III, finds it pleasing
& takes my eyes out
hangs a heavy chain over my heart
heritage markers now shaped
into a grab-rail to come to terms with
the view grass pitches in England
all six capitals bereft
from a vicious circle of agglomeration
declined bread outside Selfridges
too low to climb for rain
so gangplank in balls of moss
dried into uncancellable sandpits
non-negotiable asceticists
go behind white walls,
throw my gage my name not re-slicing it
in suntrap the restless & rising &
in those places that where lagging;
in those places that are weakest;
in those places where they
have been lost & it went with
a Shopping Centre of
human bird noises
coming out the masseuse chairs
in chloroform soaked life packets
singing to dead thrushes
& Moorgate rains ethanol fluid
turns the mourning out of earth
staked out for
scatological rites of all nations
under corporate umbrellas
staked out for flesh of welded indices
staked out for small pillboxes of
faith curls in ludic circles around
shot out mouth, my head
cracked in multiple deprivations,
like re-slicing it staked out
like a charred linnet buff
burning for burnings sake
NCP London clay
bellum mouth runs around
the deregulated Square Mile
Roman city boundaries its ‘Corporation’
65,000 cubic metres of soil taken
for more Bronze long-limbed hares
& CLC veneers
this is worlds impenetrable edge so
why be here, stiffing rain with bent Junkers
at the ready, the wall-unit topcoats
swilling wine rosea mouthed
the ghost stations in Uranium tiles
that huckster of the dig
gets buried under Carillon I can see it,
nightstars cloudnines
IF THERE’S A HELL,
I’VE LIVED TO SEE IT
jack-knifed the bend of a hockey stick
elected representatives arcane
Common Councilmen,
milk-paled Aldermen, sallow sheriffs
& Lords from Medieval guilds
a jasmine flower stuck behind your ears;
air-kissing the profoundest carrion.
