Tuesday 13 February 2024

Live Below The Line (Draft)

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



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.