Rock Romance Is Dead

We’re like Doherty and Barat
Only sans the poetic spirit
Of the ragamuffin kids
Of Brick Lane

The Albion ships sailed
And our passports weren’t valid
Thus we are stuck on shore
In an in-distant difference

We’re like Lennon and McCartney
Only sans the moptops
And relentless energy
And conviction of self

We’re like children playing
Soccer games and tagging
Grass-stained knees
And muddy shoes

A name in a song
On the wall where we live
Where poems roam free
With no perceptions

Crack-pot egos call the numbers
Washed-out punters licking wounds
A squat in squalor
And utopian union

The Albion sails on course
Whether or not I’m on it
I do not know