Awight mate, ar you dooin?
Where we goin' tonight then guvna'?
Flashbulbs a flickerin' in the London Eye,
The tourists fill the pods,
O Lord, keep safe our Queen Victoria the First,
He keeps time on millions of schedules,
A lonesome bobby protects the door to Number 10,
Four lions on patrol roaming freely in the square,
Laughter spills out from the comedy store,
Mamma Mia, Wicked and Billy Eillot,
Sanyo, TDK and Coca-cola in neon,
Lighting the way for lovers below Anteros
Ever faithful to Her Royal Highness,
The bearskin hats stand ever vigilant,
Black and white, rich and poor,
The herds pack themselves into watering holes,
Buses and boats and tubes and trains,
Carrying the ants along paths well worn,
Returning home up the apples and pears,
To do it all over again tomorrow.
As the sun sets over London
Now my attempt at "geographically organised poetry"
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