London reared it’s ugly head and reading came back to the dead writer.
Adrift and lost on African plains; at pains to remember what tore him apart.
Dazzled by mist in the middle of the mirage’s moist opportunity to make himself the messiah
Paragraphically cheap visions like a brothers’ brothel in Vegas’s colour and splendour
Lonely dollars covet the hidden agenda
Nollywood’s needless bets on me to be second fiddle in the West End
Rhyme and justice rinsing fat cats and white collars of p’wned brown lazy black colour
Hats off to you on death row effervescently desiring a skinned up Waltz on ice.
When nothingness sells fast
Make-believe voodoo Lion King is chilling in Palm Springs.
The Poetic Comparative smokes out my dainty narrative
Painting pictures with paraphrasing: Gothic renovation!
Horny traffic of Shaftesbury.
Stay with me for a while.
Pull up a charlatan.
So who am I, Mr Swami: A turbaned terrorist’s facial hair twitch
NLP tells in your inner view
When the wind was with Willow and the cherubs’ babies with Toad
Calm chair: The Roundabout Men
Crimes culture conditioning.
If I don’t descend down below
Artistic redress and holistic frequencies from the familiar Devil who fasted in hell
A tart’s tiara with gilded edged twat offering Cornucopia delight on furry whistles and bells
Swelling Farringdon: Charing Cross was sophistically won
Well done toasted Egyptian golden age, currencies and bullions.
Naming names spoils the witness game of marketing madness competing in the dark
And somehow the old age Raga of how it will happen to you too one day, “Muffin!”
Rocking and rolling, I shut the fuck up – Thought said to do it –
Italian vibrations returned kingly sympathetic reddened coloured livers
Sleeping in different coloured blankets underneath one lonely moon
Beaten by fleshy blasphemous brothers
Pale white skinned eyes share a quarter past birthtime for my prying tiredness.
A refund on School Teachers after I was stopped by a copper
Not climate changing my suntan these days
I told the man what I meant and he advised me on shareholdings and more than I spent.
I moved to Birmingham and kept my mouth shut
A Spoof Guru Movie on social media
Rhetorical search engines
Wrestling with the mania of Mundian madness and tomorrow’s cereal bowl with toast
Dropping bombs
Pulling in porn like the python programmed to tell an Emeritus professor of racial profiling some legendary cut://.com
AI Summary
It’s a poem about a mind overwhelmed by London, race, media, memory, and myth — a consciousness ricocheting between identities while trying to stay intact. The speaker moves through satire, trauma, pop culture, and spiritual confusion, exposing how modern life misnames, distorts, and pressures him. It becomes a portrait of someone wrestling with the world’s projections while searching for a self that isn’t swallowed by noise.
