You are just one more tittering fool
with a manicured garden
masking a slack mouth with polite palm -
pushing fifty-pence words
into tired conference
dodging the sky, in favor of fair weather.

Everyone here spends their nine to five
pounding time into cartoon pictures of the Queen,
quoting Churchill loudly
while they hush his British Gulag -
it's no wonder Darwin's heart
just couldn't take the strain.

The constant drain of gray clouds
paints a grim portrait of marble faces
mossed into composure -
a Dorian Gray of stock brick rows,
soldiered toe to toe
in unmappable streets,

Shuffling feet bearing hearts
bound in tropes
and I'm amazed at the juxtaposition
of castle and cobblestone,
tomb to tome of thought

everything lost, here
and everything found.