Poems / poetry / verse

Swallows you up, then she spits you out whole,
Like a dog with a bone, just like any new home,
Our fair lady London observes from afar,
Bursting at the seams with the next bright young thing.

‘Streets paved with gold’, so said another gone by,
Try as you might they never make themselves known,
To the poor man at least, with his ethic handed down,
It ends up with us, in our safe pair of hands.

Blustery tube wind, the creaking of doors,
Survival of the fittest, a joint London sneeze,
Cursory glances meet rigid indifference,
Metropolitan feast, we share it out as we please.