You said something
About a song adventurous.
About entrances and exits.
About my time as puppy,
And you as frat and yuppy.
My lead and its nexus
Imagined
Both of us in the arms of our mothers.
Later as gallants,
To many in parks or clubs various, a nuisance.
And after the canon,
A belly full.
Now finding ourselves crock
And circling almost squat
The shank of a walk.
With childish dreams and childish talk,
Our sight severe and at the lightest touch
To recall what might have been and weep.
Yet always the question with my eyes
I repeat:
If the son of King David
Had ten thousand wives,
Why do you have only one ?
Spread double,
My deal was no trouble
Until naked as I was selling
My meds took over the killing.
To diddle, the diddle.
To short the shilling.
Funny, I shouted “Geronimo”.
This bond of mine.
This heart of thine.
Outright here under shadow.
As ‘Trade, Bust, Credit’.
I am still just selling
Even my maths are barren
But my balls are golden.
And in currency
The skies themselves
Are what I call E-V-E-N
This flies to me
In the wars of algorithm.
I worship how fine it all is –
A moving average, uncorrelated,
To new levels of
My personal risk premium in the entire system.
I am to it and it is to me.
An identity invoked by everything that ever spoke –
These prophets have vowels that translate
To new levels of
Rogue trade gone postal
With all the answers and just one query:
On a street named desire/
An address at which to be merry.
You missed a party, a party sensational.
Well-greased, it was.
A pizza sensational.
Spread or sprinkle, steam or winkle,
Seafood or prosciutto.
Ultra fast and high frequency:
This base of bliss has outage.
A recipe that burns the breast.
Uber ingredients of parma and tart,
A taste to inspire mouth and throat;
A taste that inspires a Brazilian model
Or simply fur coat.
You and I,
To feel the taste
Must enter the oven together
And lie there flat wanting
The sweat of ambrosia.
Sylvan stress,
A pizza full of adventure.
You missed the party: a dance demonic.
Mushrooms they gave us
And after,
A handstand on a hedgehog
With black swan roasted.
Anti-matter mixed with olives
A psychotic search for optimism
Hunting porcini in the dirt of a September evening.
A time of both tortoise and hare.
Do you remember
The trout quintet with Maestro Schultz
All mixed in ?
A crowd false, naked and bare –
How could we now waltz ? Vien ?
My tear ducts fill with all the onions
Of every ambition,
Of every child and every bank
Who ate on the lap of London.
Such a party you missed,
Such a pizza as this.
"Try five trillion," he said.
To think of this smile.
The screen ahead fusing itself
With his vision.
An angel came to him,
Sitting on the window sill.
It’s eyes were red
And it had wings of lead –
Had given up being his guardian.
Had been seen drinking methyl earlier
Outside the tower with the devil.
It was the thrill of meeting a rebel
Who knows all the tunes
To play in the financial bible
In high pitched frequency.
Now the elbows faster and sharper
Have dulled Hyperion’s laughter.
And he, who was once an archer,
Who played with the Most Golden,
Had a visit from the Spanish master,
El Bow, the reaper.
In what seemed a time interminable
This is how the world ‘beginned’.
Had the start and no sin.
If you stumble around darkness,
It can be quite harmless.
In tints of Eden, sketches,
We was completely liquid.
Shadows but happier
Completely innocent. We was.
We hadn’t learnt to spell or think.
To be precise we ‘knowed’ nothing.
Hadn’t put pen to ink
Or even tried to think.
Space, collision
Two people in conversation.
A big bang,
Quite a picnic.
And what of the budded stem? Gravity?
All things to all men.
Until the sun cames up
And everything was bright.
And all the loving I could ever have
In one night
Came from the dollar’s
light.