Life, love and understanding

in the inviting alleyways that stem

out of every pore of real London,

teeming London, rank

and file, true blessed, authentic

and crowded

and congested

and swarming heartbeat London,

where Underground darkness

bathes in existence and light…

I love your streets and the historic new,

the passion in the frank,

beer crashing, dimpled glasses, London Pride,

that swallows in the smoke

and the grated conversation

over dying trades; reminding

me of New York but poorer but no less sincere.

 

You are beautiful London,

when pulled away from the sleaze

of the financial, when the heartfelt

rises with the swell of the Thames,

you are beautiful when you pull

your nose from the gutter and the regime

of the 8 till 8 till 8 till 8 till late, dead

of night the moon shining, rain pouring

wiping clean the dregs in suits and when the real,

the undaunted taste change.

From Whitechapel to the Waterloo,

from Shepherds Bush to Islington

and the stutter of the river bank gravel,

you are beautiful, let go of the 8 till 8 till late

repeat day in day out, let go of the money

that stenches your nose, you are

beautiful.

 

Ian D. Hall 2016