11 November 2010

Hometown Glory

In My City is a poem i wrote on  my blackberry one morning on the way to work, i love this town, the people, the traffic, the crowds, yes, even the weather. For anyone who lives here, there is a sense of ownerhip, that even though we live 16million deep, sometimes it feels like it's just you, floating through the metropolis of concrete.

In My City

in my city, the people rise before the sun,
the sun rises before the moon is out,
like a child, running into the living room on noel night,
just knowing he got his first bike.
in my city, there are fiends and farmers, prostitutes and priests,

all riding on the same bus,
in my city, they are all different, but to outsiders,

refer to eachother, as us,

like in my city, no-one can come through,
and not recognise the true talent, of that homeless girl in victoria park

with the crazy hair do.

in my city, we drive around like maniacs,
forced to have disdain for anyone else with the nerve to get in our way.
in my city, there is no colour,
like a mish mash of crayons, which you left in the sun,
they have no name on.
in my city, i see little girls walk around with no respect of self
in my city, i see them perpetuate the stereotype,

that all black boys will end up in a cell
in my city, the rich get richer and the poor get poorer, 
in my city, there is no line between who is not, and who is normal.
in my city, there is nothing you cannot find,
from the side streets of shoreditch,
to the wide streets of camden,
in my city, every building has my name on.
in my city, we have drug dens and crackhouses,
a fiend walks out, not knowing where her blouse is.
in my city we have heavens gates, golden arches and river dates, 
in my city, the food is just great, will transport you to another world,
where children sleep in boxes and crates.
in my city immigrants are a dime a dozen,
we walk around oblivious to the fact, the most of us, are one of them.

in my city racism is flourescent,
like cum stains on white sheets, ever present
something you will not see if you do not look for it,
but if the right light is shone on it
it never ends, like the sound of deaths feet.
in my city, we have hostels and palaces,
we live in ignorance, not knowing what the business is.
in my city, i will live in joy and in sorrow,
because in my city there is no day like this, not even the morrow.
in my city, out of one, comes many people,
like the most high point on a church, the steeple.
this great city, i will love, protect and honour,
sometimes even pity, for this.......is my city. 

"by seeing London, i have seen as much of life as the world can show"
Samuel L. Jackson

Stay Up

No comments:

Post a Comment