A Capital Man

Our bold Mayor of London
In spite of his burdens
Has chosen to cross
To the North bank again

The party political
Must have been calling
For stickier wickets
Inside number ten.

Conservative tastes
And the right education
Would make him a candidate
Proud to display

Strong family values…
Unchecked dedication
To national causes
That brook no delay.

He plots to return
To his life in the fast lane –
Trade in the bike for a
Chauffeur and Jag

No skimming the fine print
For that would be cheating
And soon on the map
He’ll be planting his flag.

Alas, the election
Requires some sacrifice
Two hefty titles
To shoulder at once

But that shouldn’t be hard
For a Machiavellian
Spinner of dreams
Used to acting the dunce.

So he’s setting his cap
At those hard-to-reach voters
More mums on the run
Far too busy to check

If this scruffy buffoon’s
Just an overgrown schoolboy;
The first among men,
Or a knife to the neck.

Lost in The City

When all alone and lost at sea
Amidst the suited scowling fray
I picture fields with peace for me
And trees to keep them all at bay.
I pass them by, these blinkered hordes
And wonder at them as I go
Who register a life, of course,
But have no wish to watch it grow.
Their view of man disturbs me so
That I confess myself amazed.
They barely see me as I go
And hurry in their daily daze.
If I were dressed as prince, or king,
Rather than humble pauper here
They’d scramble fast to kiss my ring
Instead, they wish I’d disappear.
I don’t fit in here, never could.
Nor see I why I should or would
Be wishing such a life for me
As suited, booted, clonedly
They all appear to want to lead.
And barely living, stumble forth,
Motivation: only greed
And what the Joneses have, of course.