London Fields

London heather

London Fields

Post-apocalyptic or ghostly
The perennial Man and his Dog
Mushroom balloon clouds
Etched into the foggybottom mist
bloated over London Fields
The early morning rush
Crack addicts and girls
With crooked teeth
Dirty headscarves
Poor Muslims stuck
In their Ways
Black girls angered beyond Belief
Quiet white folk
ashamed and scared
stare at the loss of London Fields

Violent mobile talk
Told bitch I’m on the train
Teenagers curse and swear
Hijacking the Colonial stain
I’ll twist his neck and rip it off
Bitch makes me wanna turn Gay
the train worms
lungs contract
an insatiable hunger
plunders London’s Fields

These are the marshlands
From Cityrush powdered heels
Knifepoints to pierce your flesh
To the East’s endless endeavour
Of struggle, strangle and slump
When Majestically
Rising from the cold earth
Purple heathers clash
like Kathy with her Heathcliff
their ancient heads lash
branding a sensual Gash
Deep and wide across
London Fields


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