urban wanders 10# 11# 12#

pure magic 

indescribable beauty

the urban wanderer

wanders 

against the sunset sky

in the twilight,
at nightfall

over a silver bridge so high

tracing the glowing orb, that hovers 

beside the towering shard
ours is a city with heart
a city with soul
just scroll, through the streets
watch as they greet
the ancient statue figures, it figures:

the river reflections 

the light deflections
emanating from the protruding

and there stands proud, yet humble

the great cathedral

and so there I wandered, I watched

the sunset sky 

and then I lied 

on the grass outside 

the Tate:
I looked up at the sky 

the leaves belonging to the
thin silver birches
fluttered and glinted
in the goldshine
and time
time ceases to exist
and Barry White, he sounds in my head 

the busker sings david bowie

-hours pass-

the saxaphone in the distance slows

the outline of st pauls grows
ever more distinct, ever more ethereal

pure magic 

indescribable beauty
yeah, indescribable beauty

and big ben at night fall, another day

another wander 

those dotty lights, still shining so bright

I crossed another bridge

and another bridge  

and then another 

I crossed the gardens too 

and then another garden
 and then another

 neat and prim, the gardens 

of victoria embankment seem
so tranquil and tranquillizing
harmonizing

gold light fades into twilight 

hours pass, another wander

another wander, south bank 

the london eye, even in the silent night

circulates, edges upwards 

majesty (not beauty you say 

but beauty, in every way 

is in the eye of the beholder)

Blackfriars, weaving through

no I don't believe its a construction
the gold haze surrounding tower bridge
on a warm middle eastern evening 

(even though its a construction sight; blackfriars)
but no, I don't believe it's a construction
used to lure in the tourists

-romanticism: pure magic: indescribable beauty- 

Byron, Wordsworth, Shakepeare

even Blake, these are my compatriots.

Yeah I admit some days I mark on every face I see

marks of weakness marks of woe

but most days I believe 

Earth has not anything more fair to show

yeah, I believe its my city 

London

its a beautiful city

real and pure

colourful, supernatural, to be factual

it is the best and as I lie, 

on the grass a smile on my face

music in my ears

eyes cast upwards at the clear city sky

I know I'm right
where I'm supposed to be.
Here. Not there, not in the mountains.
See me, I'm in awe always,
I marvel at the marvellous

me the born and bred londoner

the eternal tourist 

for london is something different every day

a thousand things to see,  

always in awe of this beauty

always in awe of
this fine city, so pretty 

the harmonies, the melodies

the faces, all different
ahh, what better thing
what offers more healing
than to lie on the grass for a thousand hours

and to feel at home in this city

by the silver birches of the tate

see while you wait 

I'll be here, just breathing 

smiling, witnessing 

the merging of day and night 

what a great spectacle to behold
I was sold
from day one-  

the peaceful glorious union

the oranges, the reds and yellows and golds

and then the blues and silvers that follow

breeze throughout

urban wanders, urban slumbers 

no bag, few belongings

belonging to the city 

i belong to you london

since sixteen, I been wandering

your city streets
in moonlight, in goldshine

i love you london