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
As many people as possible should be encouraged
to become owners. We must make everyone a shareholder
in the concern called ‘Great Britain Limited’.
Pope Leo XIII
One leg in annuities, solstices,
sanctuaries, woes
breakthrough my heart is dumb brassic
in wiping off at the diadem floodlights
around dead fens being dead.
The underclass discussed
on mumsnet
Do we have one? Why?
Who or what is responsible?
When did it all go wrong?
answers on a postcard
a more vengeful revanchism remainder
winos ‘mole people’ footloose
brig adders wriggle out
in virid pilule seedbed
morsicatio buccarum sans reveries
& you work in the midnight purpling hue
that tips the stars to lug imminent
a 10-point code of conduct
dictates by the squeegee
a dream covered nothing
foaming its boiling common
the Urban White paper Urban Renaissance
BioMed Centre identikit corporate detailing
the quoin metal black bile
& actual slogans around our heads
into a buzzword of tearing.
ON. nothing Londinium vapour
wrenched quiet
to my scrying door plate,
post paralysis hands
drivers vandal-proof lights O
construction workforce, mixed-use
the sugar pill, —the clerical sales,
to Marina developments micro segregation
blood fielding
in treacle-like gloss paint;
plastic art planted in concrete
business district winding down
the Era Two is more optimistic,
its spec boasting holes a ‘Transversal Space’,
The post-Good
remains in a Quango fortified,
stock-brick-clad ground-floor blast walls
scratching the edge forevermore
Russell Group firebrands
in spirited Rosewood Calf Leathers
12 stars over my eye
a technical ripstop
red wrapped Made in Italy
Cocoon shape pulls away
dead chainlink landscrape
the holly so the ivy grows
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 words red held up by a friend
for there are Steinways to follow
& seraphs on Brooke street,
it's the colour
between thawed gurgles
that what really matters
& London is the centre
of wicker fence panels
its river territories 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 forming wings
that mirror each other,
public & private bokes
all set to chrome
it’s underlight schism hums
Laws balustrade is this?
Asset Management Limited
shining sleeves scraped
from every pore & costs nothing
laid upon its roof burning day
into your eyes rising
the stone of the plaza,
in every living sign
a public-space guru locked 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
collar plinthed Blair’s demotic glades
now this is Bang at Sportcity
the Plateau, the Field, the Garden agenda
a gala of dystopian domes Logan's Run
of my desire for wrecking
in multi-use pause areas frozen stars!
on the lips a Levelling Up,
a song for rent & village culture
the economic pie everywhere
& for everyone, not re-slicing it
Teesworks in Redcar,
& sell it these new clusters
will be our Fourth Industrial Revolution
in Sunderland headwinds in the past
spread thin through Freeports,
Enterprise Zones
& Super-deductions
weaving a thread for Investment
New Classical macroeconomics
New Classical tiny glass beads
powered this small
& weak dreaming fields
the background to work
new satin finish logscales
peerless white limestone
of chlorine ducts a flaming urn
& no drinking water
for this sabre of light,
this filigree lightness is anodyne
& as low as possible
over the tidal Thames
every child to thrive
on decoy vent fed air,
off seed cathedrals noon-marked
monocoques hollowed to dusk
the development sequence
scratched inside wet paper brain
Werkstatt the swilling ‘ideas engine’
Stanhope PLC a field of glass,
windswept Thomas
,, your mother’s bead expertise,
voluminous lottery cash enhances &
lifts the heart in Milton Keynes
seeing futuristic housing
prototypes (Mission Nine)
Workplace Mediation Specialist
hangs a heavy chain over my heart
your team knows why
& takes my eyes out
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,
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 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
& I’ll be back again tomorrow’
plugging austerities in the wren
binds a midnight tabulation
over spitting concrete
the drills, the controlled explosions,
the corporation 2001
O wedded nodes the diminutions
& you eat them in the Giant Needery
little britain with wards tested
gladi/haemophilia + binos
evenings golden hour draped
black velvet above winged griffin ramps
(Mission Twelve) the shallow end of Bullism
in your head Nomura
& Merrill Securities metals
King Charles III,
finds it pleasing heritage markers
now shaped into a grab-rail
to come to terms with the view.
Misneach declined breads
outside Selfridges
too low to climb for rain
non-negotiable go behind white walls,
so gangplank in balls of moss
to uncancellable sandpits
at the end of every accused finger
of my tongue the briefings of your lineage
& summerhouses incomplete
listen my heart is begging for friends
of starres right on time
at the EDGE OF NOWHERE
is the Poetry Society tag you forgot
for death is death
until you’re Inside this poem
like a poet.
In a suntrap & rising not re-slicing
in those places that where lagging;
in those places that are weakest;
in those places that 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
NCP London clay
bellum mouth runs
the deregulated Square Mile
Roman city boundaries its ‘Corporation’
65,000 cubic metres of soil taken
for Bronze long-limbed hares
& CLC veneers
this is worlds impenetrable edge
gets buried under Carillon I can see it,
like a charred linnet buff
burning for burnings sake
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
cerulean Amytheus cut vitrified
British Transport Police Mosaics
ceramic broke by downdraft
where the fountains were removed
The Concrete Society gone underground
brand engagement
platforms annulled basking spots
in the Outernet incopads gauze
Tricorn blood makes no noise
Paco Rabanne 1 Million walk-in JumboLand
where I ate your withered tie
with Amarone & vetched Gillespies
poured poppies down my briefs
at the Naval & Military Club
the Long Bar sangfroid bombed
transmetropolitan
Pink Gin runs out my mouth welt,,
the cities shoulder burns a
breadcrumb trail piss sunk air
parsed of national jeremiads
ancient corner ghost-catching spectre
& occult thieves on the premises
of the Federationist League
the cyanosis of The Wall ginger division
League of Empire Loyalists
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
living rake thin on low resolution mirrors
access thresholds injured
slow curdle wet-winged
brooding the starlings
of newly widened centre arches
& the pavement of City Roads
its agoraphobia, forged epistle flax,
watch as they start carving up
the Ossulton Estate
double-helix crick shaped,
the function room into flats
& 275 tonnes of Westmorland Green slate
painted Vanta black.
