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.

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.