Lies meet across office lunch, Over eyes saying shall we, Valiantly resisting carnal desire, Emails revealing new feelings.
My place? can’t Yours? can’t
Pleasant playtime extended, Love, forever lost at home, Always required, loneliness abated, Clandestine affair required, Effervescent feelings buried at work.
I have taken a pilgrimage see the Leake street Tunnels under London’s Waterloo rail station that has been on my bucket list since I first heard about them. one of a few places where graffiti art can be legally sprayed here in the UK. the photos below where taken on my visit. they are just a few of those I took.
it has been legal for street artists to leave their mark here since 2008. when Banksy organised an event there. #Banksy , #leakestreet .
so for tonight’s #dversepoetspub poetics prompt from Lisa. I have used a line from the poem Pilgrimage by Natasha Trethewey. “here the river changed it’s course”.
Leake street.
The tunnels they do beacon, Painted walls, painted ceilings, Painted floors, painted railings.
Here the river changed course, Away from repression of expression, To its acceptance of the street artist’s ability.
A pilgrimage of art, To view an ever-changing 300m canvas, A bastion to art since, #Banksy festival 2008.
Take a wander, take a meander, Through the tunnel of colour, Stop for a bite, Stop for a pint, Soak up the atmosphere. Smell the spray paint, love the artwork.
Cones conniving circus confining commuters, Stall holders shouting harassment at starving homeless, Billabong’s bastard boss boasting about beating up Berty, Pigeon’s prying, pooing & pecking perfect passengers, Fashion victims flaunting vicious frocks, Music meandering into minds mayhem managed.
Announcements garbled animating gorillas.
Pt2(Charing cross)
Announcements garbled animating gorillas,
Platform shoes and dirty doily shirts, Streaming hordes & multitudes of rat-races, Ornge jacketed pamphlet givers, STRIKE, Kamikaze Pigeon divers dive bombing innocents, Litter blowing around booted ankles.
Announcements garbled animating gorillas,
Tiny, tiny quiet, big, big LOUD, Big loud stomping out tiny quiet, Pamphlets flying in breeze, strike info ignored, Women disguised as shire horses, lacy bell bottoms, Flushed pink faces, gobsmacked expressions.
hi all trying to fit two prompts into one. The first one from a monthly poetry meet up ( word at the wharf) I attend where the prompt for next week (Thursday9th may) is Zodiac. and of course the selfie poetics prompt from #dversepoetrypub. As a non believer of the zodiac stars I have tried to find a way of of expressing this in the the form of a written selfie. (no one really ended at cliff bottom)
My Zodiac star!
Barmy, barmy hot summer night, Naked under the stars kinda barmy, Next to my darked haired lover, Reading our future in the stars.
This cliff top grave yard, Our rendezvous ever summer solstice, My stars telling her no to us, Her stars telling her no to us, Our hearts breaking, telling us YES, Her mother’s zodiac teaching never wrong???
This a time capsule selfie, Of heart break and sorrow.
My zodiac star found dead, At cliffs bottom at sunrise, Her mother never seen again.
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