Poem: London Dreamers Only

Graham Arnold

London Circus

Red green yellow

 leave no money

And zip way out of town

Leave the buses in the dust

The Londoners by the rusting-

Black gated gardens

In the middle of Marylebone.

Wheel me out in my Ikea bunk bed

Out middle of town

Where the Juniper Tree greener than the biblical fig and olive

Makes tea without milk nor honey.

I was deader than a sea shanty

In the middle of a mind storm

My red fire flame hair marks my hell halo

And my lips mark my return

To London

Born and raised-

up

like champagne in a Mayfair glass cup

To the business and lonely

To the Scottish blue eyed lovers

To the yard, back garden or godly

To suite 136

No Handcuffs

Just speech.

I’m sorry.