The Griffin promises us,
late nights and broken minds.
“House! House! You’ve got to have a house!”
we ignore the shouting of their wares but,
just past it, just
“Ring for ATTENTION!”
Register at the Campus Center,
it’s only the rest of your life,
is that my life, or just a burnt out building?
The Sydney Opera House of limited knowledge,
“but beauty trumps knowledge... haha Fletcher, you sure are ugly!
your butterfly’s and books,
are the heavy makeup of an aging whore,
stop selling yourself, your out of the game,
Kimberlin’s got your corner... and look how many love me.”
PINKY! FILTHY! GORGEOUS!
“They love me most! Books or booze?”
Benjamin’s tower looks over the water,
shaken with echoes from Glo’s emptiness,
whilst Stonehenge bows to the Pizza King,
and the neon of Newarke begs for attention.
We walk round and round,
in and out,
for three long years they clamour to be
Ours.
On the last bridge,
far from Campus warfare,
five heads,
laugh
“A city without heritage is a man without memories.”
Alex Bliss.
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