The House of Ill Fame ~ Hieronymus Bosch
As this Technicolor dream disperses in thought-pixel clouds
to greet the morning muttering in towers and viaducts red-brick
where they manufacture the white heat grinding deconstruction engines of daylight.
The passing window lights the trees of morning passing green
while heads nod in anaesthetic thoughtlessness blue to the coming day denied
you purse your lips in yellow anticipation
of another day wasted in cardboard empires of purple prose
5 comments:
You know, I'm really getting to love this blog. Your "production values" are so high.
Thanks James!
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Shame that few comuters see the ubiquitous Buddelias all along the line into Liverpool Street.. It almost makes the journey worthwhile
Ahh Jams. the butterfly trees (had to google that one). Most of the commuters on my monday morning journeys are asleep.
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