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Showing posts from April, 2011


No red apple. No snake.  No beautiful tree. Just a white envelope keeping time, And a bin spewing out the desolate And the damned onto the London street, Where Eve is judged. The night prowls by. Tears fall. Words go unheard. A bell tolls, the night collective appear. Spilling out of bars in search of transient pleasure, They take up the call to drum and bass a nd fail to notice Eve’s fall from grace. The 312 trundles by. Tears dry. Words fail. A sigh struggles free and arches Against t he backdrop of Snappy Snaps. Fear, that manmade toxic, corrupts Truth And Eve is banish é d. --------------------- Reference: Walking the streets of London