Sing to me of city lights,

of good time girls for lonely nights.


Sing to me of guarded spaces,

of feuds and rights, trading places.


Talk to me of stars above,

the hushed embrace of once tried love


and I will talk to myself in doorways,

sleep the sleep of the undead.


I will hide an outrage tight

like a possession to keep out the cold.


I shall sing of Russian princes,

of carpets laid to London's doors


and I shall sing of tarts and whores.




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Thu 20th Dec 2018 22:48

Great that you gave this your time and thoughts David. I wrote Letter from the Streets thinking this poem was too abstruse, and it hasn't drawn any comments apart from yours, so I was probably right. I was trying to contrast romance of a sort with the inconsistencies of little hope. You're right that cities do embrace all faces and turn blind eyes to tragedy and highlight the shortness of success too I think. I'm glad you like that line, it did feel significant to me in the idea of reaching out and back.

Thanks buddy.

Jennifer and Brian for liking, thanks.

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Wed 19th Dec 2018 16:19

Thanks for your likes David, Trevor, Anya,Jon and David. I have given this a facelift in today's effort. The sentiment is the same, but totally different.


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