Post apocalyptic balcony number 11

Can't complain I guess
Brings in the dollar
Pays for the happy times
With the happy times
Everything else fades

A few of them get physical
Not in the pleasure sense
Black eyes
Bleeding arse hole
Happy times to come

Not really big enough
To fight back
Just take it
Money thrown in face
Black out I guess

Met this guy, last week
Friendly like
Neighbor from floor above
Might tout for johns
But Real life – not into it.

This guy, maybe a friend
Brought me left over dinner
For the microwave
Don't have one though
Ate it cold – alright, better than normal

Next day, he came
Ask for the Tupperware
Hard to get these days
Had a wife in tow
He said to me

Kid, Son,
Want a different job
Want less internal bleeding
Doesn't have to be this way
I get the feeling he may be right.

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

Leaving London Town (soon).

The job decision decided. The London job fell through, at the last moment. My cards played for me. It's off to Hong Kong in five or six weeks. Scary stuff, 'How does one go about emigrating?' I guess this blog will provide the answers over the next few weeks.

It should be exciting, but it feels lonely. I'll be leaving someone who has my heart. I'll be leaving many friends who have my joy. Naturally my first thought was to go and see my heart's harbor. So I popped downstairs, jet bike keys in hand. The engine on my jet bike is broken, so I power it using an assorted collection of happy birthday balloons and a hand held fan. Luckily the wind was with me; the journey shouldn't take too long.

Balloons inflated, fan switched to full – I set off...

Drifting over London's sky line is amazing, I'm not sure whether people have ever landed at Heathrow, it's one of the best plane landings in the world. I float down Kennsington High Street, passed the anti-social police who search the pockets of homeless people, before moving them on. Passed a collection of gaudy and predictable consumer havens. Passed the tube station; which I try to avoid. High above Hyde Park, where I sometimes run circumnavigating the Beautifully Baroque Albert Hall, home to concerts and smiles.

Over Marble Arch, with statues of ripped hero's of old on stallions. Tall Georgian business districts, beautiful but inaccessible, wave to the Queen at The Palace, pass down bustling oxford street, Christmas songs already playing for shoppers (maybe I need some ball bells for my tree). Glass shop windows display what you 'can' have through an impenetrable barrier. The far reaching chimney pot skyline of a beautiful city.

Themes slipping through London to my side. Days of old it delivered money to the banking district, now optical connections do that. Glass monoliths that influence The World. Train lines that go everywhere. Trendy east London, tight jeans and hair cuts, pubs and bars where I often smile and dance with friends. I set the jet bike down in Bethnal Green, lock it to an iron fence painted black, opposite The Buddhist Center.

I ring the door bell, lucky guess the password, take the lift upstairs, heart beating, hands sweaty. Curry ingredients in hand.

I'll miss London Town, but I want to leave happy. I feel my heart will be harbored for eons to come.