24 April 2012
[As promised, here is my Allen Ginsberg - inspired rant about Soho. WARNING: contains strong language and graphic imagery. Do not read if you are easily offended and/or a minor in your county of origin. Otherwise, please turn the page to begin.]
Pigeons are positioned Placed and poised Like plump, grey plums In the arms of a tall Obscene birch mid Soho Square Grey and foreboding As a Ginn Maths textbook:
1(a) 1(b) 1(bi) 1(bii) 1(c)
See, I can't see why My life can't just be numbered Not sneaked upon by letters Lengthening sentences Into paraplegic graphs
Confused homeless man Is tazered on the green By paranoid police So I'm gaping up At cranes on a street South of Oxford West of Poland Cresting tea time Yum Yum Chaa
Soho, when will you rescue me For more than a minute From your scary Muted violence It isn't even spring For fucks sake
When will I feel as though These downstairs tearoom havens Are more than just a luxury Give me a bloody office, Soho Give me a murder room fit for Alan Davies Filled with rabbits Gasping and growling Like dismembered Banquo
Soho, cover me in magic paint Make me feel special Or lucky like Levi I'm bored with discovering That there's more to you I want an answer The theorists can go bastardise themselves In my feted basement coffer They can hang in shackles Await my reenactment Of the chainsaw scene From Scarface
When will I find a brik-a-brak Nik-nak, odd end jewellery Dressing up superstore To satisfy all my inner magpie I'd love a shit, Tescos Something filled with things I actually don't need
Soho, when will it be acceptable To smell embroidered flowers Dressed as a geisha again When will I find Saki's bar of soap You're full of piss And myths and legends
Why do you love to antique The furniture, the records Coats and stuffed obscure birds Surprise me and tell me You've taken up doing nothing Tell me Time Out is out Tell me you have to Go have a wank and Relax with a footspa
Tell me it's alright To catalogue things digitally To press into palmtops What I lost on the page With a pen full of nothing
J x
Soho Inquisition • Opuss № I