BPIHW
A crap misaim bottled of sable
colour wired together
in clop of blondish tuff
asking for dodo meat again outside
for old times sake an obsolete light
stills the silk jackets
toenails to the sun
purlin in defect blat pril
the sweet air, wherein my joys
are a chest pain
under the dropping floors
its satyr chorus of imperium
hard-ons this soil
is grace and favour like eaves
shaded long in a psychodrama
hell submissive loyal to
portfolio marquee screening
the kindred grandezza in
nacreous snail trail all popped
white-collar clubmen
moue in tandem toby jugged
ranine dinner speech
muzzle the coffers
mine hence not yours
Council Memory Trench
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 all glom faced,
outside Automatic Hydraulic
anti-terror bollards
in the event of a loss of power
non-sector chaperones arrive
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 schisms humming
on Laws balustrade.
Hello, Is this?
Asset Management Limited
with shining sleeves scraped
from every pore
& cost nothing
I lay it upon its roof
a burning day into your eyes
the final stone of the final plaza,
in every living
the 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
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 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,
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
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
