The Blends of North London​

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Urban tantrums age like fine wine

unpredictable because of the culmination of a life

fraught with the drawn aromas of concrete soil

A Saturday night 29 bus

Where middle-aged lesbian lovers quarrel

While a blend of Kurdish, Turkish, Greek and Polish gets louder with every stop

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And behind Finsbury park trees promiscuous gay men winking each other

Hoping their poked eye meets something warm and wet through a toilet separator hole

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Modernity and a variety of truths blended in a mixer with ice

As I walk down Holloway on a Saturday afternoon

Fraught with the drawn aromas of caramel garlic and half-empty gooner pubs

Manzoni up Upper Street epitomises multicultural consumption habits

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On a Sunday afternoon

But I stay away from west-end

Where the vernacular is unblended

And the yuppies, tourists and jazz musicians fill franchised cash-induced consumptions

And where the frontal lobe is put in full motion

And where voluntary poverty prevails

and the anti-establishment discourse is at the tip of the tongue of everyone

And everyone trods to work and is proud of it

And thespians randomly pass by to buy from the individual stores

No sir, no, I stay away and stick to the blends of North London

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October, 2012

 London