Trouble, Cat Stevens cover

Iambic pentameter

Poem in iambic pentameter. I wrote this years ago.

The Loveless

We travel fast who know not love nor life,
Grow stronger now that autumn fires are near,
Dark nights conceal us as we walk the town,
Sip cocktails in some gloomy basement bar,
And deathly pale suck pleasure from the air.

You may have seen us roaming in the Strand,
Across the platform standing for a train,
We smoke despite the metro's warning signs,
Laugh coldly when the rats come out to play,
And vanish underground when daylight comes.

There are no midnight stars that burn as hard,
Our shortened lives are wild with senseless deeds,
The double weight we carry drags us down,
We travellers in the night who know not love,
We travellers in the night who know not life.

Doctor Doom

Doom. Live on YouTube. Gucci-suited,
telling the fans they’re what matters
again. You’re done, the hotel’s sent up
the wrong ice & you level the building.
It’s jut beautiful, you share with Time,
what pain & misunderstandings teach us.

Everyone wants a piece of you. They love
your Latverian trill, they love the iron mask.
You get DOOM inked on your knuckles.
From one angle it looks like DOOR.
A photo goes viral - KNOB on your other hand.
Doctor Knob! A small boy yells & yells.  

You torched him in self-defence you find
yourself briefing a global press conference.

A black week. Blank about status updates
you charge a flunky to post for you
then fret he’ll make basic spelling gaffes.
Half the responses are phone numbers.
The rest want to know if you’re bulletproof.
You’re not bulletproof. You’ve had some work done

& afraid to go out rattle round the empty castle
on rollerblades. You’re a prisoner of fame.
You hate the fans. All the time you burn
to confess you’re not a qualified doctor.