Friday, 26 April 2013

urban wanders 10# 11# 12#

pure magic 
indescribable beauty
the urban wanderer
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
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 
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