The British Summer: in London

THREE days of heat
turn a city of concrete
into a stifling and sizzling
furnace; with people complaining
about the never ending heat!

FOUR days of rain follow
and their comments so hollow:
argue that it does "nothing but rain";
oh dear: What a forgetful brain!

NOW the nights are drawing in
and the shouts do begin:
"double summertime now:
we will never bow
to the constraints of universe!"
"What phallacy", I say: "just live
and enjoy what we are given!"

another poem (tubelines or metronet?)

Rattle, rattle, there she goes:
with hundred-twenty people.
The tracks are old, the tiredness shows
not just on trains but in people's faces;
as if in Ascot on the races -
or competing in some sport:
round and round and shove and push:
everyone's seems in a rush!
Undeterred, the doors will open, shut again at haste:
no, I can say, this is not to everybody's taste.
Rattle, rattle, there she goes,
deeper in the tunnel.
Can you see the end of it?
or are you stuck? - inmidst of people shoving
Are you ready for the exit...?

little poem (down the tube?)

desperately texting on their blackberrys;
as the city lies in ruins:

"Nine lives I had, and all used up" - says
the text...

In posh city suits their pretentious habits
fuelled by the poorest

MAJORITY - You few fat cats, too,
WILL feel the crunch and crash!

by hornybloke 2008