Encased on the tube
I saw a young man
He must have only been 23
Stubbled
Prickled
Slightly pickled
Sitting there he read Bukowski
Oh how it filled me with hope for this world
As long as his words are read
We all have hope
even if religious warmongers and
zealots kill each other whilst
politicians
betray us and each other
As long as his words still inspire
We all have hope
The posters screamed by
Actors with chiselled looks
Carved out of stone
Names that continue to sell tripe to the masses
Movies that numb
And I just sat there
Wondering
How it would feel to be successful
To be a name that is known
But for me the path is clear
The choice is simple
My destiny rings true
I am here to inspire
one singular
drunken broken hearted man
who sits vibrating at the speed of light
through the clotted arteries of London
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