“What do you make of Modern London Marcus?”
‘A vortex of vice’ I reply
‘A culture of non-stop purchase
Demands recourse to a Higher Power
For that which at first excites
Soon becomes obnoxious and mephitic –
Long ago I coveted an Afghan carpet-bag
Brought to Fulham Road from far Kabul
Found ‘pre-loved’ in boutique How Bazaar
Whose managing theatrical was ‘resting’ –
She tilted it – and from discreet compartments
Out fell the foil and the Rizlas –
Puerile paraphernalia of those times –
No doubt their former owners now attend N.A.
Relinquishing mood-changing chemicals
For Fellowship which nobly works within
Establishing a sane and moral compass
Disdaining those excesses which gamble with good health
While quoting from its wise simplicity
“Each day is quite sufficient to itself” –
Do not seek epiphany by lusting after goods
But ever seek the Greater Good of man’
CENTURION REPORT
Estuary Britons won’t be Romans –
Their ‘Stuck-ist’ sense of beauty
Disallows our naked Primavera
But skulks around all shrink-wrap top-shelf porn
They need incessant song to drown mead-blather
No poetry but slang-rhymed foolery
Or tight lips closed against the sullen cold –
Each beard conceals a flea of insurrection
Bernard Saint
Illustration: Claire Palmer
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