Just a short 1st Draft of a poem. It's not great, but I felt there is little else I can do but write about the disheartening events taking place in London (and spreading.) The title, Londiniensis Flagrans, is Latin for London Ablaze.
Oh London,
My Dearest,
I watch the flames engulf you,
My heart begs for it to be untrue,
But my watering eyes say otherwise.
I took no notice,
As the magma thrashed through your underbelly,
And when it erupted,
I knew.
Now that same heat continues to race through your veins,
Motives mildly masked, they set ablaze your skin,
Which, like wood or silk, is burnt through from within.
As the stormy waves pass through,
To the sound of callous laughter,
Leaving behind the charred remains of my love.
And for what? Mark Duggan,
A name so unfamiliar to them,
As the notion of compassion?
Now, after 3 nights of hell,
I plea mercy for my Love, my London.
For a fate unjust hath befallen her.
And, although I was not with her,
My heart lay in her cinders.
My Dearest,
I watch the flames engulf you,
My heart begs for it to be untrue,
But my watering eyes say otherwise.
I took no notice,
As the magma thrashed through your underbelly,
And when it erupted,
I knew.
Now that same heat continues to race through your veins,
Motives mildly masked, they set ablaze your skin,
Which, like wood or silk, is burnt through from within.
As the stormy waves pass through,
To the sound of callous laughter,
Leaving behind the charred remains of my love.
And for what? Mark Duggan,
A name so unfamiliar to them,
As the notion of compassion?
Now, after 3 nights of hell,
I plea mercy for my Love, my London.
For a fate unjust hath befallen her.
And, although I was not with her,
My heart lay in her cinders.
