Above the making regular

by Jason Brennan

As the city extends its tendrils

At different rates

In all directions

As half built roads chew

Into the hills

And gleaming glass

Cathedrals

Behind the docks

Are being dismantled.

Unfashionable

Office blocks

Come crashing down

And ageing houses crumble.

 

And folded in with progress

Rising and decaying;

There is the past

Of architecture

With every epoch sampled.

The notion of the linear

Is being trampled

And in the minds

Of its millions,

Strange ideas of freedom

and unique identity.

 

Communities scatter

At the least exception

Hoisting bright new flags

And claiming repression

Has held them back.

Artists and academics

Trash archaic ideas

Of form and meaning.

Pastiche and nostalgia

We are told,

are now the 'new black' .

 

Yet something

Somewhere gathers

All these scraps, stitching

Them to order.

This patchwork planet

Of fragmented minds,

Viewed from above,

Has a simple design.

 

Way above the desert

A private jet

Scratches the sky.

Its satisfied

Passengers

Are loosening ties

And kicking back.

Something has been decided.