morning people

seas of dessolate faces
encapsulate my commute.
rivers of them
in semi developed newtonian motion
a b line for the cake shop
or for the tripedal exit barrier.
just the steady dub step beat
to guide my feet
and the pigeon instinct homing in on
my lcd haven,
of morning coffee
and various papers
broadness now defined by my lcd companionship
maybe today channel four isn't blocked
maybe today people can speak
maybe today i'll remember my degree equations
and not feel like a retard
design a new skyscrapper
to suck energy from the weather
and make people happy
inspire poeople to think
and live
with one globe in mind
maybe also i'll just wish i was at
home
in loving arms
listening to filthy b lines
fucking
and drinking cheap wines
plotting routes on my map
eating dim sum two hours passed there prime
thin king really come on
are we not etheral.

no thinking no corrections

day evening night
pressure exploding madness
trapped dreams evaporate
with each economically viable answer
take the pv's away
they cost too much
but save the island states
who are they
they're not on the news
or in the world cup
are they even real
maybe we can forget them
after all 'samsung LCD revolutions' dont distribute there
or coka cola
or cane cola
or pepsi
or suksi
or any fucking emapthy
to washed out homes
or floating corpes
or stagment ponds
with children
taking slurps
of death
they would never make uni anyway
there isn't one
they can't speak english
does that mean they don't count
fuck it all
fuck everything
fuck late entry copenhagen politics
fuck the fact that i ate today
and drank more than one beer
fuck me
i don't even count
x

Time

Poetry dissolves
in the commuter rush.
elbows in your kidneys
as a glass door
crushes your face.

Every day the cake people
smilelessly take
my $HK 5.50
for a mexican current bun.
but i smile 'umm goius'
and march along.

march to the lcd screen
of work
of productivity
of progress.

I sell you a vision
a vision of the future
where energy
doesn't corrupt

i believe this
i see a solution
i see green hills.
with rabbits bouncing.

but my shirt is
delapordated
because image is
superficial

believe me
i am a engineer
i don't seek finance
i seek effciency

you ram your insipid orange financial pages downn my throat
compressed on the underground
on the tube
in the media
fuck you
economic gradients are diminishing
maybe one day
i can
ram
the
renewable energy times in your face

and talk with pride about
sustainability.

Mahjohng welcome

it's being a while, and i guess i am feeling the pressure of a new job and a new city. Much of my thoughts are taken up with creating a future for buildings, lots of which are very useful but very abstracted from this blog. But this is a poem to the people who have welcomed me to hong kong.

3 of all 4 compass
points.
It feels like a
lucky wash.
It feels like
all four paws
hit the ground,
it feels like
a sheltering
welcome
it feels like
a future cloud
thank you