those mayfair hotels heavy with servitude

exacted a heavy price

as I toiled to create a dance paradise,

youth and energy on my side

a roller coaster ride.


Where their rubbish piled up

the alleys were too dark

to give away secrets, 

so I fled the confessional through 

the church doors of the salty night,

followed the thames for home

galleon black reflecting london.


Battersea looked back askance

still with its leathery heart

a mere bystander to my homeward route. 

🌷 (5)




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Sun 15th Oct 2017 19:29

Welcome Suki. It is nice to think I inspired your response - yes the king of goods lifts was that of the London Hilton which plummeted from top to bottom in about 30 seconds. I was always fascinated by the inner and outer lives of hotels and how like a digestive system any building must be - pretty revolting stuff but that's life. The other thing is that there is a rudimentary understanding between all who serve. I'm not familiar with Baudelaire's works, but apparently he was eccentric , so that's all good then!!

Nice to see back on form. Ray

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suki spangles

Sun 15th Oct 2017 14:41

Hi Ray,

So you are a reincarnated Baudelaire, or perhaps Baudelaire in a time machine..No matter, it will be WoL's secret..Spleen and Ideal in London.

Ah, traversing the Goods Lift. Funnily enough I mentioned the Goods Lift in a previous poem.The shuttle for shift-workers and entertainers (of all kinds); spies, patsy's, chefs, security, and the mysterious others who keep the arteries of buildings flowing: its kidneys, heart, soul and liver..A parallel cityscape. A noir within a noir.

I'll shut up now..

Oh, great poem too!!

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Wolfgar Miere

Fri 13th Oct 2017 21:54

Really Ray I must protest in the strongest manner. Are you suggesting I have loitered behind fine establishments for the purpose of trade?

You'll ruin my reputation man.


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Fri 13th Oct 2017 20:40

THanks Ryn. To let you know the story, I used to play in a band in London and travel to each gig !

David, yes, the time for dreams -mine was always to be in a band. As a muso, I often used goods lifts gaining access through kitchens - often regarded as a nuisance of course. I call alleys the small intestines of commerce. The Thames was the first route of commerce of course - love the river at night. Interestingly, talking of trade, there were many whorehouses on the river banks for sailors to visit.

Hi Cynthia, I really am rather flattered. You've surpassed my own self estimation, thanks so much. I'll keep drinking the tea.

Thanks for liking this Col and Kevin.

Ray x

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Fri 13th Oct 2017 12:11

Jeez, Ray, what are you gentlemen taking in your tea!

I think this is just fabulous, full of energy and superb imagery. The opening line screams originality, and yanks the reader in, full throttle. And then you never let go.

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Wolfgar Miere

Fri 13th Oct 2017 05:25

Hi Ray,

so much hope in youth, the shiny glitter of superficial promise. I have occasionally wandered behind large hotels for various purposes, such areas display the truth of what lies within, the cast off waste a manifestation of transient opportunity.

Galleon black is excellent, the Thames becomes a mirror at night, as opposed to the tea stained cloud of its daytime look. I love the river, it seems to be a metaphor for the city which is forever flowing away from its inhabitants and vagrant wanderers.

London is a like a woman you can never have, always moving away beyond reach.

Great work Ray,



Fri 13th Oct 2017 00:20

i'm not sure i completely understand it but it's good nonetheless.

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